It’s not my birthday,
Not the time for a letter folded into four,
And I know it isn’t yours either.

And since we’ve already parted,
Don’t be mad at me—
Say goodbye
Looking me in the eyes.

Don’t tell me—
Or at least don’t try
To show me your light—
And since you’re already done,
The poem written by you
And spoken by me
I’ll tell you tastes of salt.

It isn’t sweet,
The sea is dry,
The heart beats in echoes against the walls.

And if you’re done—
Say goodbye,
One last step—
And if I don’t reply,
Know that maybe,
Or perhaps karma, played us well.

The dice have been thrown,
Don’t whisper what you don’t want me to hear—
Just as I don’t love you anymore,
For autumn has begun.

And if you’re done—
Don’t be mad,
But I’m emptying my mind of you.

I buy myself a bouquet of flowers—
Imperfect, equal,
Clock hands broken.

Who can guess what time it is
If we no longer need
Each other
In this life?

Why breathe when you know you will die,
When you're drowning, why do you attempt to breathe?
The water ,icy and cold like a spike to the chest,
As the water slowly fills your lungs ,burning .suffocating.
When you are bleeding out why do you put pressure on the wound,
Why do you push as you watch the crimson slip through the cracks of your palm?
The blood spilling out. Bleeding. Dying
So next time you ask me why i love when i cant be loved,
Ask yourself why are you breathing when you know you will die?