Do you know it hurts to leave me here?
Bleeding, scarred, begging for someone to see,
And you won't shed a single tear—
Even though we've been through so much—for me.

Didn't you know?

Do you know it kills me when you walk away?
Your back is turned, footsteps left, and I still stand,
But you keep leaving me there, day after day,
So I fall and fall, but you won't ever see me land.

Didn't you know?

Do you know how I die when you lie?
Hair over your eyes that are glued to your feet,
Nervous like I won't see through the things you hide,
I know I'm too much, but you took the heat.

Didn't you know?

Do you know that I cry because I don't know?
I don't know why you aren't here anymore, by my side,
I'm so lost in this sea, in the music, in this twisted show,
And you're too callous to see my goodbye.

Didn't you know
It's my time to go?

Oh Little Swan
You have been hurt
By the touch
Of the vicious man

Oh Little Swan
The things you would do
For the love of your life
His smile and eyes blue

Oh Little Swan
Your fragile body
Vanishes into thin air
With every turn

Oh Little Swan
You long to be free
From memories of  
Anguish and misery

But this day
Will never come
Dry your tears
Little Swan
Smile and say your goodbyes
On this cold, dark day

It was either you or no one,
When i took the risk,
When i made it clear I wanted it to be you,

It was either you or no one,
When you marked the list,
And you made me feel like a 100 flattering roses

And I wanted it to be you,
But the universe said we werent meant,
And I had to continue to flow alone

And thus she went
Leaving behind her the many kind words
And lingering hopes that make all good things seamless,
But which fade like her perfume in places she slept.

When I saw her face disappear
Behind mirroring train reflections
I saw those who stared when we waved
Caught in the crossfire of our connection.

They should know, as all should, how
Our iron-clad love is feather armour
Marking a true knight of the cloth
The world's spasms worn about our backs with many gold brooches.

Such it is to be anointed, to filter all out
With your inestimable standards
Held high for those to see
How much she loves me.

drag my helpless body down the hallway
where it is dark and hidden from everyone,
a place too eerie that ghosts yearn to dwell and linger
—my purpose is quite the same after all.

compelled to conceal myself in the shadows,
sublimating to an unnoticeable presence
like speck of dust upon a quaint furniture
that no matter how meticulous and kind
the hands that care for me,
i cannot be wiped clean.

a miniscule of being that i am
only has a slight chance to be found.
to be known.

my skin was off
the first time i met you and
you saw how ugly it was to be me.
even if i looked frightening,
your face remained static—you wore the kind of skin
that reminded me of the most calm and quiet period
of the night where i can just be myself.
there, i could wear any skin i want
to hide,
to be happy,
to be at peace
or perhaps i wear them at random
just so i can feel something.

you stood there and perceived me
beyond this paper skin as if my ugliness
was something that can be erased.
but just like every skin
that is hanging inside my closet,
every single one of them is threaded
with some sort of deficiency
and each time i wear them,

     i light myself on fire
     because i like watching myself burn.
     slowly, you walked towards me to warm yourself.

i have tiny jars that are shelved
perfectly inside my brain
from category a to z,
sorted by themes,
and from one to a hundred
—a scale of how painful
life is in my repetitive experience.

i keep all my memories sealed
like a handful of fireflies shoved in a jar
that only live for three days;
i may forget every scenario with ease
but never the dying flicker—the feeling
that grow dim in each canister.

god, how fragile am i that it only takes
a trigger for each glass to combust tragically,
good thing i'm the only one
who knows how to pull it.
     i wonder which repressed emotions
     are going to choke me violently tonight.

as i walk with nothing but the feeling of my heart
grasped achingly by my ribcages,
i grieve for my future self;
this is a habit i cannot break.
like a sacred ritual
i commence a solemn ceremony
to mourn for the unknown half and
to mourn for myself, a loveless poet.
     will i spare someone all the love
     that i tend in my backyard?
     the garden of all my poems,
     the garden of all my words.
but, what kind of poet am i
if all the love i write is mused by utter loneliness,
soiled underneath the pretty field?
resting in peace in a worm casted ground.
oh, i cannot wait to see
how my garden will bloom
once you enter it.
how your presence will soften the soil
and i will welcome you fondly as you earthen close.
     but please know that rain
     did not water every thing here,
     this love grew because my heart has yearned
     a lifetime to be understood.to be known.
     you were once a figment of all my hurt,
     a muse shaped like a blur that i begged to seek me.
i guess our hearts naturally just ache to be loved
that we yearn for beautiful things
right after killing them with our very own hands.
still, i remain as gentle as i am now
because i mourned,
    and mourned,
      and mourned...
       for someone like you.
a flicker that was absent for god knows
how many lightyears away we were to each other,
that we couldn't hold hands no matter how
interlocked our hearts were at recognizing everything we feel.
so forgive me if i mourn for you by and by
—your beauty is closest to the moon after all,
tell me, how can i not long for you forever?