I've never thought this way before
My cynliders are in another direction
I can feel my defection
To my older ways
Now I feel there must be change
To compensate for your well being
And that's a golden feeling
You're working wonders and you never expected it
I am more than happy
To go lovey dovey and sappy
That's who I was and who I will be
Way too much darkness encroaching upon us now
I just hope that you can keep my lights going
And my heart pumping clear oxygen
Your smile already makes me hate the situations I get put in, less.
You make my pain less
You reduce all the worst parts about me.
I think I'll become your dream when you already think I am.

The way I see things
if I were Ted,
You'd be Robin.
All a series of broken strings.

I don't get a choice, not this time.
I'll always come back to you, no matter what.
Love is the best thing we do.
It’s our drive. To envy, lust and crime.

It's not love if I pick another.
It's not love. Not meant to be,
something silly. Forced upon, not by destiny.
You know it’s true. We've chemistry. You're not just a number.

No, it's not wise or safe to think of you -
Especially because we're not likely to ever happen.
Then why do I choose to torture myself?
Why do I aim at catching a bird, when it has already flew?

Is there a reason why I turn back?
For not trying to find a new soul to match
mine? I'm not afraid of the future.
I don't run back to the past. Waiting for my heart to crack.

Because it's love - It doesn't make sense.
I don't care if I get hurt. I don't mind beating myself up.
It's okay just looking at you and just be thinking -
How amazing you are - how wonderful must it be to be close to you, without any suspense.

You once said, that my face always brightens up
whenever I see you. And you're right.
That is that it because I see yours
brighter and more clearly than anything
Irrelevant of what you're wearing. Irrelevant of your makeup.

I don't want to part ways;
just these few months have been hell.
I want to take your hand and just hold it,
knowing it's mine for the rest of our days.

Though, I'm not clutching your hand.
Because I'm losing you. You're fading away.
I’m losing the real you. Not the idea of being with you.
And destructive as it may be, it is so **** grand.

What I’ve learnt from five great friends,
is that I can easily lose someone I love
someone who’s special. So I act.
I do something about it.
So that the possibility never ends.

Truth is, that I can’t promise that we’ll be together,
that you’ll be mine. That you’ll be in eternal happiness.
I can’t vow to be perfect. I vow that I’ll love you though.
When it’s sunny, overcast or stormy weather.

I get it why you’re scared. It’s okay to be afraid.
I, too, am frightened, lost, in between questions.
But why not think about tomorrow? The past is familiar
but as long as I’m with you, never in doubt, never betrayed.

Yet I must keep my calm. As I am thinking about tomorrow
when midnight has not even strike. Haste is not right.
If it has to happen, it’ll happen.
I don’t want to rush. So I’ll try and take it slow.

- And yes, I wrote this poem thinking of a certain bella,
taking lines from television. However, don’t discredit me
as I’ve meant every line written here, during this journey,
seeking the girl with the yellow umbrella.

With the ivy on my house, I had to reconsider what flowers I wanted to add to my garden. I never expected to be gifted a hydrangea sapling that I planted beneath the wall of ivy. I was much more beautiful than I had originally thought, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that the hydrangeas were able to grow and flourish on their own alongside the ivy. The scent of hydrangeas became comforting to me.

Not much later, a patch of ivy crept up the side of my house, right above the garden bed nestled against the outer wall. I didn't worry about it at first, I treated it as an after thought until I noticed that it had eventually covered the whole side of my house. The thick ivy had cast a shadow over my little side garden and my black eyed susans were dying. I tended to them until my knees were bruised and my hands were matted with dirt, but I could not save them. They died. Eventually I grew used to the ivy; I grew to appreciate its unique beauty and held it in fondness, but I would never forget my beloved black eyed susans.

The marigolds had inspired me to add black eyed susans to my garden. Their yellow petals were enticing and their black centers lured me in. There was just something about them that kept me coming back to tend to them, to waste my time in order for them to flourish. The marigolds I had previously planted had died due to my neglect, but I found I didn't miss them much when my attention was focused on the black eyed susans.

I started my garden with a little patch of marigolds I got from the market down the street. They were pretty, I guess. I really only chose them because there was the easiest option, since they were already grown and all I had to do was stick them in the dirt and look at them. I walked passed them most days without a second glance.

Get Your Casket*

Dig deeper, deeper, deeper.
Dig your own grave and try
To scramble out of the hole again
Insisting this is not goodbye.

My darling, this is your end
I could never tell you a lie.
This was your last chance, last mistake,
and now your time is nigh.

Hey everyone!
I'm just letting anyone know that from the 1st of December to the 1st of January, I won't be posting any poetry, because I won't be writing any - it is time for a break. Every year, it happens at about this time that my creativity decides to hibernate, and so for an entire month, I'll just be collecting new material, expanding my vocabulary and planning a new series!

- Crimsyy

I'm not sure if death is an injury
but from the Rockies to the Yangtze
If you read any Bukowski
You may never rip that knife free

there's those poems that destroy you
from inside to out
an h-bomb of hopelessness
and the post realisation fall-out