whether it's a jagged gasp
between sheets
of a queen sized bed,
perfect handwritten letters
between sheets
of notebook paper,
the words
"i love you"
don't mean anything
to him anymore.

It was blue

Mingling shades of blue

Swerving round the setting sun

Stray green herbs

Matching the life lines on their wrists

He said, "Take care..."

And then smiled

He smiled the way the sun whispered goodnight to the earth

With a promise that it won't be long till morning

The shore played the protagonist

In a beautiful lie

Bowing to the curtains of sand

Their shuffling feet

The applause from the only interested audience

And with one final nod

Her hands ached to go home

Home to the notebook stashed in the lower shelf of her dresser

To where the pen was eagerly waiting

The pages excited to be ravaged by ink

Because there, between the lines

Lied the secrets she spilt into the night

She'd already written the entry in her mind

But then she crossed the street

Waiting for the bus

Where the real world was colored in smoke

The streets crowded with foreign faces

Cats rummaging around trash cans

Balconies spilling the secrets of every house

Busy lives shouldering past her

Folk music covering the atoms of the air angrily

There was the sickest shade of grey

The one that hinted of lime yellow

That spoke of distractions and misery

That smelt of melancholy

It almost reminded her of cigarettes

The way she needed to be away from it

She held her head low between her shoulders

Hiding away from the few familiar faces

His image begging to be the last thing she sees

The dreamy waves begging to be the last thing she sees

The melodic breeze begging to be the last thing she feels

Before they make it down to the pages safely

I stood on the roof with inglorious intentions, looking around shakily for someone to stop me.
But no one came.

I stepped up onto the ledge and waited, pleading silently, desperately, for someone to save me.
I waited a few minutes.
But again, no one came.

I jumped off the building.
Falling, I still hoped someone could swoop in or fly up to save me.
I knew there could be no such person. And to my aid no one came.

I plummeted down and hit the ground as a pain swelled in my head suddenly and everything harshly faded to black.
My body lay there waiting to be seen, discovered by anyone.
It was too late for me to be saved.
But finally someone came.

Brandy was always there for me when I got sad.
Always there for me when I wanted to die.
Brandy was strong and tried to fix the problems, but never really could.
I can see the bottom of the bottle already.

The yellow raincoat swirled around in the passing wind and drops fell from the sky. Small splashes in tiny puddles made distant music that no one could hear. People walked by me, caught up in the bustle of pedestrian traffic.
No one paid any mind.
Clouds filled the grey skies, everywhere I looked, yet it was a good feeling.
I was happy, alone here.
I smiled to myself and watched as someone ran by trying to escape the rain. I walked in it.
Today is a peaceful day in the city.
I can see mist ahead, the shop windows are all streaked with it.
When it rains it's either depressing or refreshing and today was bright despite the weathers intentions.

My blood is the ink
And my body your canvas.
Like an artist crazed, you tear me open ever more
So not to run out of paint.
It's time I shout: never more
And stitch myself shut tight
And store my beautiful colors inside.