You are the song that rings
Through the silence,
You are the air that floats around me.
I lay my head down,
Close my eyes,
And take in a soft, deep breath.

But you fill into my lungs,
Flow through my veins,
And burn my flesh,
My blood, my bones,
All at once,
While your words fill my ears,
Travel to my head,
And draw pictures of you,
All over my soul.

I scream at the top of my lungs;
Hoping that somehow
It’d put out the fire,
And shut you away,
Until I taste blood in my throat,
Until my voice is long dead,
Until I collapse with silent sobs,
And lay waiting,
For the darkness to take over me.

I build up walls.
Laying one frozen cube
After another.
With prudence.
And freeze them all together.
Unbreachable.
I smile with triumph.

But then I remember
Your smile.

How your eyes
wrinkle on the sides,
Sparkling with mischief.
Curiosity.
And shades of emotions
I never did decode.
And a spark rises.

Melting down the walls,
Into puddles.
Releasing the butterflies
To go haywire…

Nights…

The enthralling darkness,
The music of the silence,
Of the nihilistic nights,
Gave me wings
To fly beyond the walls
Of impossibilities,
To dream
With the spirit of a lark,
With hope,
Like that clenched in a newborn’s fists.

Now,
The darkness hauls me,
Into the depths of morbidity.
Blinds me
With no sense of direction.
The silence of the night deafens me.
Plays your voice in my head,
Like that of a thousand crickets
Until the night breaks.
It’s a limbo I cannot break free from
Where there’s no one but me.
Deserted.

I tried to fight the darkness,
But it only thickens as I cut through.
Sucking me in.
I screamed at the top of my lungs,
But it only bled my ears,
Your voice never quivered.

I lay down every night,
And pray for the walls to crumble
And the tiresome world to reveal.
Where the noises are too loud,
For me to hear you.
Through the hustle of the people,
Who drag my body along
With the hands of time…

Hope.

One week.
I still have the same nail polish on.
A purplish blue.

Today,
I wore that same dress.
The one I saw you last in.

Nothing seems to have changed.
Except for you.
Us.

The tears that drain
In the silent, dark nights,
And the bright, blaring noons.

The sparkles within
Which turned into flames,
That scorch my insides,
Million times a day.

Someday,
I’ll learn to smile,
Reminiscing your hand in mine
And your engulfing embrace.

Soon,
I’ll learn to read,
Without running into you,
Between the spaces of every word.

Kinda. Sorta.

He said he liked me,
Kinda. Sorta.
He said wanted me,
Kinda. Sorta.
He said he’d always be there,
Kinda. Sorta.
He said he wanted space,
Kinda. Sorta.
He said “Let’s call it done”,
Kinda. Sorta.
All he ever said was
Kinda. Sorta.
All I never heard was
Kinda. Sorta.