that wasn't me

at least it didn't feel like me,

speaking to you

emotional lies

i should have been better

i could've been better

and i think, in the end

it all would have changed

if i could have one more redemption

one more chance

i think i'd beg you not to hate me

i feel like, under the rain

everything is subject to change

there is a certain joy in

regarding someone

perhaps you've never talked to them

or never liked them

but under the rain, really

there's a certain awe for the world

that coruscates in the eyes of its beholders

so next time it rains

take a look around

notice what you didn't see before?

we love in spite of who we are

because it is a way we carry hope

perhaps love is rebellion

only those who desire

can partake in

and maybe love isn't reasonable

but it is often liberating

if you view it at the right angle

My heart beats,

I feel the silent joy of the world.

My memento mori,

Happens to be the very thing that keeps me alive.

One day I will die,

But I can say I lived,

And that will be enough hope for my soul.

I've never been particularly verbose

Or brilliant with wordplay,

But I'd like to try

And be honest.

When the stars fade in, as the sun falls

Do you think of me?

Does the dazzling light of Sirius remind you of me?

Or do I inspire thoughts of the extinguished stars,

Which have been dead for many years,

Yet still shine?

Am I the rug on which you step?

Or the rest on which you rest your arm?

Am I the disposable syringe? or am I

The most hated monstrosity.

I hear the repetitive tick of the clock

As I lay dying,

And I can feel

That the eternal abyss

Which is so highly praised,

Becomes near.

The wintry night sky reminds me

Of some gaping void

Excited to swallow

The underlying Earth

And when the Sun

Slips below the horizon

Does it feel jealous?

Of its counterpart who gets to enjoy the night?