a melancholy tune.

she strums, through the night
black tears, polluted streams
down her face, the lonely hillside
blood trails, o'er metallic chords
skin scraping, on wooden neck
drunken laughter, escapes the lips
mother divine, now unknown
two friends, hand in hand
cannot deny them, comfort she craves.

she strums, through the night
soft melodies, richochet and bounce
inside her mind, senses aching
emotions a nuisance, wishing for sight
toiling 'tween decisons, perceptions alike
head bows, hands become slack
plectrum falls, her own music
begins descent, a restless slumber
she will wake, pressed against body
pale ashen face, eyes forlorn
melancholy tune she played, now forgotten.

"I am small, like the wren, and my hair is bold ... and my eyes, like the pools of sherry in the bottom of the glass that the guest leaves behind."

haze.

there it is again
that constant bass rhythm
trying to break free
from the melody that
attemps to pin it down
restrain the power
it grasps over the minds
of the shadows dancing
arms held high
strobe lights flaring
eyes closed
giving in
to the temptations
the heat, the rushing blood
pulsing bodies
skin to skin
close, too close
the heart beats
with the rhythm of the bass

as blade plunges
into arteries infused
with wicked anticipation
rushing blood, gushing blood
release in the flow
temptation to feel
to be, alive
keep moving
keep beating
with the rhythm of the bass
pain implodes within
a scream, slicing through the heat
knees buckle, the gentle thud
of euphoria hitting the floor
insanity, as red pours
hot, sticky, wet
worshipping the agony
the power of disguised control
the rhythm is cunning
the mind is distracted
as broken metal sinks
red turns to black
sound fades
as the heart is left to beat
with the rhythm of the bass.

twisted.

hours after accepting
i have moved on
from the person i have loved
for over a year,

i am now nursing the wounds
of an altered friendship
that i didn't want to change
that i never meant to ruin.

a yearning to be held
to be consoled
it proved too much, inevitable
for boundaries, limits were left unspoken
now i know.

i can do no more wrong
as my chest caves in again
for the things i touch
are already twisted
before i can blink.

i chose life the hard way.
i must learn from my mistakes
or else time
will wear me away.

nearly there.

my love for you
                        was all that was left of me.

i'm nearly there
                       so close to forgetting you.

the person i once knew
                                   the face, the voice.

the person i love
                         the person i loved.

i will never forget
                          although i think you want me to.

i will always be here
                              as the person you now need me to be.

as one love fades
                          another grows.

no longer a lover
                         but a sibling, closest friend.

no regrets this time
                            no going back.


'there seemed something tragic
                                             in a friendship so coloured by romance.'


maybe, the most beautiful things
                                                adhere the worst tragedies.

in the end.


                          

through her lover's eyes.

she is only beautiful, when she sees herself through her lover's eyes.

without her lover, she can only be nothing.

for now, as she looks upon her staring figure in the glass, she cannot believe her beauty.

her lover was a liar.

but it could not be her lover's fault.

her lover must've been blinded.

yes, that was it.

she was only beautiful, when she saw herself through her lover's eyes.

now the lover is gone.

mirror broken.

confidence shattered, into small, glistening pieces.

deep, purple tears are useless, for there is no lover to see them.

to embrace them. kiss them. love them.

in the reflection of darkest bronze.

she was elegant, brave, seductive.

the person she wanted to be.

the girl her lover wanted.

through her lover's eyes.

but the lover left.

she is only beautiful, when she sees herself through a lover's eyes.

without a lover, she can only be nothing.

nothing.

compound gates.

let me hold you again
let your body melt into mine
this will always be the divide between us
a distance i regret
i was carried through my childhood
privileged, protected, blessed
i never saw danger, witnessed evil
until you lifted the blindfold
and i chose to open my eyes
the world as it always had been
how you had grown amidst the noise
revealed its cruel severity
overwhelming my perceptions
shattering my beliefs
the walls of my infant compound crumbling
as cruel reality swallowed me whole
yet you have known no difference
a curse or a blessing?
i could never understand
i wish, perhaps, that i'd caught a glimpse
of your deep, fierce eyes
no younger than i
but wiser of the world and his
endless traps and tricks.
sometimes i wonder, though
who is saving who?

writing sets the soul free.

i wonder what would happen if everyone in this world was given a piece of paper and a pen, and told to write.

just write. anything. the first anything that comes to mind.

it wouldn't have to be profound, prophetic, poetic. simply words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs, pages full of knowledge, understanding, experiences and stories. individuality to the extreme.

imagine the extent of luscious details you would read! alphabets and languages from across the earth; so many people, humans recording a mere fragment of their existence that could never be written by anyone else.

just think of the sheer scale of it, how you could know so much about a person purely by watching their thoughts scatter themselves across a page - so many diverse opinions and beautiful dreams. so many ways to set a soul free.

it feels as if i am the only person awake right now. i could do anything. leap out of my window and run through the night. fearless and in complete control. the overpowering surge of freedom.

i believe that writing sets the soul free. so this is me, sprinting through the darkness, lighting candles with my mind. being vulnerable never seemed so fun before.

eyes of a whore.

anger

like a disease

grows inside me

clawing through sinew and bone

vision clouds

hands shake

pushing against ribcage

trapped, wild

whites of eyes, vivid

hazel turned to red

teeth gritted

preventing the internal rage

from being unleashed

whenever i see your face.

read your words.

hear your voice.

remember.

is it anger?

or is it jealousy?

hatred?

 lust?

repulsion? 

fury?

 malevolence?

it makes me sick

to think we are the same

that we shared a piece

of one another

in order to be me

do i have to be you?

sometimes, i am

ashamed to be

who i am, who we are

everyone thinks its easy

i make a joke out of it

but you make me despise

my luxurious sin

i am aware of it

smeared all over my skin

sticky, cold, suffocating

just like you

but you wear it like

a fur coat and heels

down a cobbled street in the dark

labelled

come, take all you want

i don't give a shit

what else is there

it makes me sick

and yet

i crave your attention

i hate how you give that girl

all your 'love'

once, you held me in your arms

i felt safe, protected

happy with myself, with you

i didn't want to leave

part of me wishes

i hadn't

you make me hate to be different.

i yearn

so badly

its painful

to be held again

loved again

caressed

cared for

as much as i

want to love another

care for another

physical contact, a growing need

i must be touched

to survive

an choking addiction

reduced to tears

as i lie

alone.

i hate you for forcing upon me

the imprisonment of solitude.

even though it wasn't your fault.

your eyes.

clear, bright blue.

i was always drawn to them.

i never want to see them again.

for your sake

for i fear

the anger inside me

might break out

and gouge those gorgeous eyes

from your innocent face.