She seldom said good night or did she reply,I didn't ask either,
She used to reply silence whenever I text her,(paraphrasing)
I created whatever I want from that silence,
I thought she is so magnanimous to provide such a nothingness to accumulate my thoughts,
But I don't know why they call it as a fantasy,anything that is created out of nothingness,
If this is a fantasy then the existence is a fantasy,as the existence is created out of nothingness,
I want her to be seen as a fictional figure rather than existential monument,
She never saw me with the eyes I saw her,
Perhaps I am talking about intention,
I think my love is unconditional and love is unconditional,
My feelings towards her doesn't have anything to do with her feelings towards me,
But sometimes it pangs me as how the flower feels when the bee sips the essence of it,
The flower accrues for over a period of time but the bee ***** out momentarily...
So did she **** out my love,
I love when she does that as the flower is indifferent to the suckling of bee,
Only her fragile silence invokes her virtual visage..
The visage with the black in her eyes,
The black which only eye-lids can shutter,
The moment she closes her eyes is the moment I see nothing,
The darting eyes,too irresistible to distract...

I said so many times
that it would be useless
I already knew the answer
knew the lack of interest
avoidance; helplessly shrugging off; taking off
such a pointless question
it lingers on my face, in my skin and I was
all clean in fresh socks so in the morning it looks renewed
but its the groggy feeling I can't clean the lingering stench of the
answer that fouls my personal space the unbelievable stabbing of the words you leave behind you leave alone you leave unformed it brings within a sea sickness that leaves me blind with vile headaches and bloated with excuses such a pointless thought avoidance; helplessly closing in; standing ground I hate the twinge in my stomach when I lock up for the night closing off all doors to the bitter soot the wretched trash I keep getting it all over but it smudges into the others leaving a trail of something I pretend doesn't exist even though everyone can see it (I can see it) so I heave a couple excuses to the wind and hope it blows through everyone hell I hope it doubles back isn't it time I believed it too and I know that if it wasn't for the 2% milk there wouldn't have been enough reason to come by there's never enough reason but it's the same thing I keep telling myself today you'll get through and tomorrow you'll get through and the day after that you won't have to just "get though" it will feel renewed as fresh as my clean skin and the disturbed air at your side will revisit a prayer and later I can thank God for the milk
I said so many times
that it would be useless
at least you can have your cereal
and move on

can I please move countries
so I never have to see your face again?
so the memories we made never replay everytime I see a picture of you
so I don't feel your lips against my neck
and so I don't feel your arms wrapped around me?
because I don't want to feel you
and I don't want to love you
because I am only hurting myself doing so
so please get me out of here

*a