They say that it could all be a dream. Just breathe.
They say my disconnect to the normal scene took away my normalcy.
I've fallen into the cracks between a desire to leave and a calling to lead. Breathe.
Don't let them see.
They don't see behind the same mirror as me. Breathe. Anxiety fogging up the mirror slightly; begging it to fight me, like I don't fight it nightly, like my fingers don't grip tightly around this pen so much that it's frightening.
My mind is an aggressive typewriter that walks along a tight wire - falling in love with the nights I get to admire the view of my feet dangling over the fire. Breathe.
You are safe up here.
You could disappear and still be near to all that will forever appear to be as real as what goes on in front of your mirror.

I hope you never fear her.
Breathe.

The clock is ticking
And taking my time away.
There are no promises that can make it stop;
The words, useless.
Reminiscing won't make the future like the past
Nostalgia is just a mind mischief.

Nonetheless, memories keep us alive.
They never fade.

Living an unfulfilled life,
The only escape that keeps me breathing is the thought of repetition.
Nothing will bring that summer back.
The years will keep passing me through.  
And no matter what,
I'll still miss you.

somehow I found myself back home
looking through this window again
why does it feel different?
suddenly I don't want the sun to shine tomorrow
I just want to hear the rain fall
and see the sky dark blue at 5 pm
suddenly I want to wear my big warm coat
and only feel good underneath the sheets

but at the same time
I want to go to the sea
and taste the waves as the sun kisses my skin
I want to see the perfect landscape with no clouds
I want to travel to those exotic warm places

I guess I just feel nostalgic.

There's this cold.
A feeling.
It's a cold that isn't obvious, but very much present.
The kind that makes your whole body shake.
The cold feeling of being unloved by that one person, which has the power to shake your entire being.

- F.T

Sometimes
i feel it manifest.
a vice-like grip
across my chest,
as memories
of you possess
my peace and
cast me ******
on silent cries
of absent
breath.

Tripping on small stones,
The path of least resistance,
The path of tangled demise,
They said I was made of monsters,
Because I hid my face from the sun