There was a boy she once loved. She fell in love with him when she was eight years old and he was in his little bicycle. He sped by her while she shyly walked to school. During recess, she saw him playing in the monkey bars with classmates, and after school, she’d spot his outgoing-self laughing and telling jokes to his friends.
She met him twenty years later, and he looked just as handsome, except older. He glanced at her with a mischievous smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She blushed, but was crying inside because of how hard life had gotten. He took her to the beach and they swam in the oceans together. He took her to the mountains and they hugged each other. He took her to the rivers, and they watched it flow in silence with her head on his shoulder. He took her everywhere, and she loved the thrill of it. She smiled ear to ear. They walked arm in arm.
They looked cute together. People never understood why they didn’t end up with each other. But truth be told, he was much too into pretty girls with big personalities, and she; guys with money. So the season turned and the clouds shifted their positions, and in no time the years progressed after they lovingly stared into each other’s eyes one night; unable to change what the stars had in store for them. That night, his beautiful eyes sparkled while he hid more want than anyone would ever want to admit, and her eyes–they tried to look positive; although she wished to never leave his arms.
Everyone wondered what happened to them afterwards, but most likely he found a pretty girl, moved on, and lived a big voluptuous life. But she, she died living alone forever. The tree and the leaves tell me that. Right around here they buried her in the grave, and an innocent bright flower blooms over it, for a few days in summer.
Catch me at the end of my blossom season. I’m still young, still viable, still lovable, take me
Before I turn too shrewd, too dry,
I like you because you’re so random, and you can pick up quickly where I leave off when I zone in and out erratically. We just don’t seem to care that much. We’re quite nonsense and there’s no need to explain to each other any sort of reason or validity as to why we exist because we’re both perfectly aware that we’re totally fked either way, and that we are, in fact, just blind rats
running around this circus wheel inside a rat cage where we fight for food but also play
and when your red eyes beam my way I stop this erratic thing that I’m doing and I listen to you
and we communicate like normal people do. Such profound things we discuss; why might we be alive? You verbalize things that ring my heart and it leads me to realize that I’m not alone; that you’re just as miserable as I,
and it’s a gorgeous thing playing in this dark side of the universe; it’s like we’re just sparks of fire burning and fizzling out before our own eyes
you, with your eerie rat eyes
looking at me, acknowledging my life while we do things unpredictably and blabber normal gibberish that we should.
My friend, you have no idea how much I owe you
for helping me stand when I couldn’t get out of bed
for existing, as sad as it is for you, and living as anxiously as you do.
You can hug me anytime, and I’ll hold you tight
Then we can stay still, and heal in the ocean of each other’s stares for a while.
Warding off people
Warding off, like flies
Riding down the speedy bus of life
‘Till it’s time to die.
She worked and worked and worked and…
Fizzled for nothing
Now it seems like you were always the truly miserable one. I used to flutter around you like a smiling butterfly; sitting on your nose and then grabbing you with a gigantic hug. I used to giggle at you, face to face, while you remained stone cold and dark. I was like a happy-go-lucky rainbow in front of you, because my misery was you; it was never me.
And now I’ve become as stone cold as you, and I realize that, that back then was never really a misery of mine.
And today, not a million butterflies can make me smile.