noun; a deep, pensive, and long-lasting sadness

i stared at this meek silhouette in the mirror,

she was so broken,
but all i could conjure was a peculiar, melancholy feeling of pity,
there was a sort of weight on her shoulders, pushing down on her,
so i reached my hesitant fingers out to the cold mirror,
and tried to brush away her tears,

but my wrist snapped back like a rubber band,
because even though her glassy eyes broke my heart,
they suited her,
in a sort of drab, but picturesque way,

there was so much distress,
so much to say,
but she didn't feel obliged, so i didn't pry,
and after an eternity of locking our eyes,
a profound understanding pummeled my gut,

i started taking skeptical steps backwards,
and eventually turned my back to her,
but i looked over my shoulder,
to get one more good look,
and all i could think,

was that i hope she would've done the same for me.

old habits die hard

every morning i wake up into a brand new person, with old habits.

i closed my eyes, and tried to write how i felt on scrap paper,
but when i looked down, it was just your name re-writted a dozen times,
so i made it into a paper airplane, and tossed it out, ashamed

every morning i wake up into a brand new person, with old habits,

i closed my eyes, and tried to sing in the most lovely resonance,
but i couldn't help but realize everything i was describing was a past memory with you,
so i turned off the mic, and turned out the lights, ashamed

every morning i wake up into a brand new person, with old habits,

i closed my eyes, and painted on a canvas with all my might,
but when i re-opened them, i came face to face with your intense eyes,
burning through my canvas, so i shoved it under my bed, ashamed

every morning i wake into a brand new person, with old habits.

delicate masochism

why is it?
that every time, you creep into my mind,
..it hurts
why is it?
that every line, i rewind,
..is still as sweet,

dearly beloved, let me in,
if only for a few minutes.

remember me for what i tried to be, and not what i was,
or at least, just remember me...

why is it?
that every chance i get, i allow the pain to set,
and flourish,
and bloom,
into the most divine agony.

punching waterfalls

she plays a summer melody with her fiddling thumbs,
desperately fighting for her life, trying to push away memories of a past,
a past so inexplicably beautiful it's depictions hurt,

pitter pattered footsteps through the night,
hunting for a midnight cigarette,
desperately fighting for her life, trying to push away memories of past,
a past so inexplicably beautiful it's depictions hurt,

pouring day dreams into a coffee cup,
moving on to another work-filled day, another tedious responsibility,
desperately fighting for her life,

an awkward smile extending from ear to ear,
pain rushing to her inner cheeks, taking it in with grace,
desperately fighting for her life,

rolls out of bed with angst in her head...
she's done fighting,

you're smell, you're voice, you're touch, you're eyes;
flood her mind,
she drowns in it,
choking, trying to re-surface,
she fights for her life,
but the current is too strong,
and she allows the memories to cascade on her,
like a shower of the most unimaginable, delightful pain.