My lamps we're ashamed of lighting our lighthouse, my quartz walls soaked in sour sweats as I hold your inexpensive hands, filling the gaps in the cracked floors of my purse pockets, feeling your singed and scented bones.

I would try to lit up the mined golden leaf pages of our Journal, take the fantasy into lies.

You'd trust your gut, not your flesh. You'd reveal your curtains, not your dragonfly wings. The sore words that came from your brunette jaw felt like dark clouds fading the colors in my sharp rainbow, creating a miniature ache, swallowing every gushing guilt in your grape lungs like nothing ever happened.

Honey drops of sweet words that came lingering in your papaya bile.

Sweats from the quartz walls came spreading in my pillow sheets.

Tarnished silver that came melting in your luxurious stomach.

As the fire burned down just to only cinders, just like our love, leading the smell of decaying flowers like the smell of your t-shirt.

She were the black and blue bags that would float in your blue waterproof eyes.

While I was your sleepless nights.

Your breath carries tornados and running clouds that would fog up the skies and As I endure the rain that would make my leaves fall, sirens and thunders in your mouth that would make me deaf.

I would train my flashlights for your pitch black darkness that blindfolded my eyes and trapped my sight in crimson bars, never getting to escape one endless chapter that you've created.

You had fireflies on your tied stomach, trying so hard to give a perfect alibi, emitting words that you'd keep on the tip of your pebble lips.

Magma from the brewed sunsets that would blur the ends of my folded face, melting asphalt on the roads of my chin.

If melancholy was a fire, it would emit like a lion fiercely roaring, it would spread in my barreled mind like fire spreading quickly in a house soaked in the smell of gasoline. It would fight the water from my tear drops like my curtains fighting the washed up air, I would fight the emotions like I would comb my whirlpools to untangle the tangled mandalas of emotions, the tears drenched in rain, and the emitting melancholic fire that left me in pain.

Fire has a silhouette, but why can't people see mine? Just like a burnt house, you got over those volcanic erupts, but just like a burnt house, it still left prints of powdered ash tears and emitting words that I would bury in my wounds, just to remember those emitting days that would burn my pale skin, framed in the polaroids inside my mind.

I never forgot the fact that

you were an athlete,

an athlete that not only

plays sports, but also, love.

Yet, i lost over a game of

"Me or her?"

In that moment when you threw that ball, in the directions of mountains where we used to walk, I would imagine that ball was me, orange tint like the tangerine sunsets we would have in the afternoon, the open pores where bruises would start spreading a blue and purple hue, just like my beaten up heart.

You would throw me in the weaved basket of mourn and sorrow where I would sleep in your suffocating arms and not a pillow, almost like my sleep was my final one. You'd choose her over me, like choosing over a useless trophy than a hug of support, Her name was on that golden medal which you promised to carve it on your heart, I tried to be the champion of your life, but I was tired, those beautiful sunsets are now my final sleepless nights.

In your jaded arms, you'd hold me like a trophy, but in the end you threw me like a ball.

sʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴠᴇᴅ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ.

ɢᴏʟᴅ sᴛɪᴛᴄʜᴇs ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.

ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʜᴀʟᴏs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀғʟɪᴇs.

ᴡɪɴɢs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴛᴀʟs.

sʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ɢʟᴀss ғᴀᴄᴇ.

ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴠᴀsᴇ. ʟᴀᴠᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀʀᴏᴍᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀɪᴛʏ.

sʜᴇ sʜᴇᴅs ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴘᴇᴛᴀʟs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜʀɴᴛ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ʙᴜᴛ ғᴇᴇʟs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴀɴɢʟᴇᴅ ʟɪɴᴇɴ.

ғᴏʀ sʜᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏss ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴏʀᴍᴏᴜs ᴡᴀᴠᴇs ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs.

sʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴ sᴋɪᴇs.

ɪ sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʟɪᴇs. ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇs.

ɪ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀs ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇᴛᴀʟs.

ʟɪʟʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ғʟᴏᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ.

sᴛɪʟʟ, ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴᴛ ʟᴀsᴛ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ.

ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴍʏ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴᴇʀ.

𝓛𝓲𝓵𝔂- ᵀʰᵉ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿⁿᵒᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱˡʸ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜⁱᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇⁱʳᵗʰ.

You taught me how to feel

ashamed only by swallowing the

sad realities i kept.

I only wrote your name and people

see it as country music thru the eyes

of a desired generation.

'Yesn't' is always the answer of a man

whenever i question him if he dreams

of you in his wide-awake yearning,

your name tattooed on his tongue,

written on an extra large white t-shirt,

in the fonts of your autograph,

call it a merchandise i'll wear everyday.

Oh Jolene, if i could just replicate your smile

into barbie accents of insecurities.

He refers you as a lottery prize

whenever he fixes his eyes

to your hour glass body,

your favorite place

has the same coordinates of the

restaurant we used to love,

this is now 'Heartbreak boulevard'.

Ethanol tears running up my throat,

raindrops dropping to my contagious leg

whenever i try to soothe the pain

with anodyne pills, like a fish

drowning due to the lack of oxygen,

that's the best analogy for my depression.

I like the lightning striking my

rusted skin whenever the clock strikes 2

and he was there thinking of you

until all my bones fell out,

like a fallen angel losing its dead end

wings carried by the wind of gushing

earthquakes and to eternity it will

suffer from the caves of perpetual darkness

to the hollowness of my puzzle pieces

in a way that every article of

clothing is only a shadow.

I'm your forgotten plant, yet whenever he

borrows your bloom, you can taste the wilt

of my roots until my hair water brings out sour

disasters in a way that his picturesque

fingers acts like a paintbrush that paints

a new meaning to 'true love',

your gravitational pull of blues

as the time of healing slows down;

to which to dust it returns for the blood

moon's greeting, a festival for mourns

to the graveyard boy, and a girl luring

him in a cage of lust.

Sunshines like this, are bought

with silica dust and the sun's fiery bones.

I still remember those days.

I would always look at a polaroid that would breathe fresh memories and would suffocate me through black and white pictures in the smell of a magazine, brewed nostalgic memories that will be always kept in my mind like a museum, hanging in my blank walls like old chandeliers hanging on my umbrella roof.

I would buy a plant that produces air, not any plants, a specific one, that would suffocate me and would feel like having a handful of sand in my mouth, having my lungs gnarled like the old forest trees and would be forced to choke on water, that's the feeling of your suffocation.

I would only sleep on a pillow that would suffocate me, the one that feels like nightmares creeping into my chest, having to die slowly and get a scent of your perfume in the pillowcases which my lungs needed to feel, and my nose that needed to smell.

I'm not your dog on a leash,

I'm not a floor you can step on,

I'm not a medicine that you can taste,

I'm not a bottle that needs to be crushed and twisted like my existence.

Maybe I am a flute that needs to be played thru your breath.

Maybe I am a lightbulb that can't be fixed.

Maybe I am a balloon that can't float.

Silly you, I am not the curtains you can hang and tie to a knot.I would purposely wax my stars so they don't combust from the breath of thunder in your dark clouds.

For I had wasted droplets from my clouds, shine from my moon, just so I could keep you.

The cracks of your broken vases fits my bloodless veins perfectly, just like puzzle pieces getting connected, but why cant our hearts be?

I would put honey and sugar in my papaya lips for I can't stand the bitterness taste of your love.

I would cover my eyes with cinnamon for I can't take another crime scene to look at.

My pillow covers just sighs as I cry like rain.

you keep saying that I need to

'be honey and glass, with perfect white teeth'.

You are not the one that needs to carve my paper body

for I am not an origami.

I was your prisoner, you we're the sleepless nights.

I'm not your windows, but why did you break me?

Cracks that makes room for buried memories.

Trap me in your crimson chambers, in your grape lungs, suffocate me like a pillow in my head.

Breathe like a dragon, melt me like sugar, turn me into caramel and honey, make the melted sand in my eyes into your windows, for you want me to be honey and glass.

Your breath carries silent waves that would make my ship tumble.

Your words carry endless fights.

Trap me in carved picture frames that I would keep in my pebbles.

For I want you to remember me like a film you've forgotten.