As It Must Be

Shake the skies in my starry eyes,
take the key to my open door;

Bottle my cries,
they'll break as time flies,
set a fire across your floor.

But stay, take me
and my tangled lies,
free this heart
from its burning ties;

Show my soul
where its magic lies,
and I'm yours evermore.

To Dream

She wears her mask of sadness,

The same melodrama,

night and night again.

The butterfly trapped in shadow

spins in late cocoon as time wheels on,

a bare chain of what eternity left behind.

The same tears rip seams, pour forth,

Bleeding from the same tired portrait-

dead wings still fly,

dead profiles still walk,

the last of the soul still burns;

Still, her wicked beauty lives ever in fire-

her hand traps all that comes my way.

Once, I was the sole spider;

This glistening story flooded turgid,

Draped in canopies of rain-

Came the sun upon my palace,

struck all but the bottle of her flame.

Muse (III)

At last, her spirit leaves me,

The humming, whirring copper cogs,

That life of mine- cast

where it lights that world beyond,

where her eyes are finer

than any pearl in measured light

my single heart could give.

She leaves me my magic,

A stern delusion, keeping me,

To see just beyond

where the pale water, branching,

can still carry us both.

Desperate Tears

Cast off, you stranger tears
That tread our homely peace,
My fairest star upon the sea
Where all the eyes should cease.

Gaze upon the pleading moon,
And powdered, crumbling sky.
You hid with her these lonely nights
And drank our heavens dry.

Now, here we are,
drowning tonight
Below your dragging feet.
Leave us in our tangled hearts
Your salt, our bittersweet.

Whew.

I wish I didn't cry when the choir seniors had their last fifth period. It made me sad, though, because I'm so sensitive to emotions running through the air. I think it's just a habit of mine, to try to figure out how the rest of the world is feeling. It's almost as if I'm living life in third person, and whatever happens to me only catches up to me when I read the inside of my eyes at night and realize how I spent my day. Sadly, that means the undefined vein of clay that runs through the right side of my mind spends a lot of its time molding and shaping into the past, trying to find a bit of relevance in the present. Most of the time, it tends to filter out the problems that shape reality and leave in those sticky sweet thoughts that can brew a nice batch of dreams, but are otherwise useless.

I was confused whether it was the sentimentality of the seniors, or simply my own delusion. Perhaps it was I who brought this misery upon myself. Perhaps it was because of my own shyness and unwillingness to be bold that I never quite knew everyone.

Why else would someone I haven't talked to this entire year just come up to me to take a picture with me? And then another random person followed, and then another. I'm not sure whether this was out of politeness, ritual, or simply turning off the drama-filled, jealous, teenage blindfolds of high school and embracing the world as an adult. I simply couldn't understand. I didn't feel the coldness that I had felt for most of the year, when everyone seemed to know the music better than I did and had no room in their lives for someone like me. At times, I wondered whether they wished someone else had been picked to join the choir instead of me. I'm regretting that I let myself think this way, because it seemed that they were all such nice, sweet people. I went too far before my time, and my immaturity couldn't help but get in the way.

I know this isn't going to be an easy hole to patch. I still have some reasons to stay here among these people, even if I didn't handle this year as well as I could. I'd be a year older and a year wiser. Still, I know that this isn't exactly what I want. Scorn never dies where delusion never dies and fear never dies. As with everything in the world, such bad things are replaced where they are deserved. Nothing less will come, and nothing more. In some ways, I'm glad that this can be seen as an end, even if it's not mine. I live in third person, after all.

Dear someone,

(Note that writing is my only form of release, so just let me get this out there. I promise I'll stray away from the personal stuff soon enough. I just need this right now)

I'm so sorry that everything happened the way it did, that I believed I was doing the right thing by following my own doubts instead of my certainties. I had the best of intentions that things would turn out better that way, and I would be preventing pain by doing so. Now, I'm alone and you'll be missing something in your life as well. This letter isn't about me, though. It's about what I did to you, and what I want you to know. It's so cruel that I won't be facing the consequences of my own actions head on unless I choose to dwell on the past, and yet you'll be hit in the face with the reality every day in the future. I hope I'm not important enough that it should hurt you anymore than it absolutely must. I wish I could take the pain away. I would in an instant if you showed me how. I didn't expect this to happen, but that doesn't make up for the fact that I wasn't true to you.

I'm only held by my conscience, and you will be saddened by reality long after I get over this, simply because of the nature of the crime. Next year was supposed to be a year of memories and pictures, words unsaid and said to fill up insecurities and blow the time away. Even if I needed to do what I did for my own sake, I really didn't have to. I was selfish, and I'd choose the suffering route over the easier route, now that I look back. You're worth it, and they do say that whatever can't kill you can only help you. I was impatient, and I wish I did prolong my internal conflict, if only to experience external comfort.

Even now this situation confuses me and makes me sad because I care for you so much. I wouldn't have gotten so close to you if I didn't see you as such a good friend. I can say that you'll make friends without me and be happy without me, but I genuinely believe that we aren't like everyone else, because we're a pair. I know I've hurt you, letting fate take over when the odds were so terrible. It's my fault.

Hopefully that made sense. There are so many harsh words that fill my mind and mix with my intentions, so have mercy on me if this isn't clear. I swear I wouldn't take the pains that I did to get this all out if I didn't think something valuable was at stake. I hate how this turned out, if I haven't already mentioned that. Yet, I don't know how to make it better. All I know is to say sorry and understand as much as I can about how you must have reacted to this. I want to make things right, or at least break this horrible anachronism that dominates my mind right now because I'm so helpless in the mess that I threw into the past, only to watch it catch up like some ugly shadow to its subject as the sun rises and sets. I'm tortured and confused (not that it matters), but because I'm so sure that I love you and I really let you down.

I don't know how to make this any easier, but I hope I didn't make this any harder. If there's any hope for me, just let me know. I'm a drifter anyway, so I'd be happy to come see you as often as possible if you still want me around. It's not like a friend can be replaced, after all. Hopefully I don't sound even more selfish in my writing, because I wrote this with you in mind. If there's anything that you need, just tell me. Otherwise, an "I hate you" would be fairly appropriate response for the time being, don't you think? Punish me, and maybe I'll be able to fix myself.

Much love,
Me.