She will always know the feeling

She will always know the feeling,
of your arms around her.
She will always know the feeling,
of her heart beating faster.
She will always know the feeling,
of loving too much.
She will always know the feeling,
of your ever present touch.

She will always know the feeling,
of your betrayal.
She will always know the feeling,
of wanting to walk of the rail.
She will always know the feeling,
of how it all ended.
She will always know the feeling,
of never being mended.

She will always know the feeling,
of you sweet summer smile.
She will always know the feeling,
of you walking on by.
She will always know the feeling,
of not being noticed.
She will always know the feeling,
of seeing love in your eyes.

Timothy

She let her hand fall to the keys, the music came naturally. It flew in her blood. Her fingers played the notes like the heartbeat of an old friend. She let the sounds consume her. Escaping into a world more peaceful than hers. Where there was only music. No people. “I see my lady is back on the keys.” The music stopped abruptly. “Oh sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt you” She gave a slight nod not caring to turn and acknowledge the anonyms figure. “Well, I shall leav-“the stranger started but got cut off by a much more booming voice. “Martin I’m so glad you could make it, how’s your father, I haven’t seen him in a while.” Martin. What a common name. She looked over to find a man (he could hardly be called such), lean and tall with coal black hair. “He’s well, on a business trip. Terribly sorry he couldn’t make it.” His voice sounded nice on her ears. “Oh the old soul, always working” Both men let out a mechanic laugh. He finally turned to look at her “Ah Adeline I see that you’re at it again. Why don’t you play us a tune.” It was more command than request but what else do you expect from a retired commander general. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. Her hands found the keys again but this time played a much darker tune. She slowly let her body sway to the music as they became one. This is all she wanted. To forget her surroundings. Her memories. Her thoughts. To disappear out of existence.  To melt against the backdrop of eternity. This was all she wanted. But her wants were selfish and fate would have no part of it. “Harold! What are you doing here, the guests are asking… Oh Timothy, I didn’t know you had come.” She looked sharply at me. “I apologise for my daughter’s attire. She seemed to have forgotten that we were having company.” Before ‘Martin’ or was it ‘Timothy’ could respond “It’s quite alright. We were just leaving.” The two men exited the room. “Adeline!” She shrieked. “Did I not tell you there would be guests?”

You

What are these thoughts I cannot contain. Its cause of you I’m going insane. You. Yes, you with your brilliant smile. You with your unending laughter and beautiful eyes. Why you. Why not someone more…more obtainable. Someone to spend the summer nights and rainy days with. Someone I can keep forever, not just like how we commune through screens. I want something more than you can offer, something more than you can see. Cause now I’m fallen. We met by an unlikely accident, my tragic distractions. Now I can’t seem to untangle myself from you. It’s true, I’m going crazy cause of you.

You.
A stupid obsession.
A steady consumption.
A terrible compilation.

You have managed to single handedly make my life hell, without even touching me. You. You have corrupted my files. Now all I see inside…is you. Too many feelings. Far too soon. Maybe it’s a phase. Let’s hope that’s true.

Happy Birthday

‘Happy birthday’ why do people say that. And why do I have to respond with ‘thank you’. Is it that you’re happy I was born, cause I’m not. Or is it that you’re trying to help me celebrate, cause I’m not. Why am I pressured to be happy on my birthday? Why am I pressured to make it perfect? My life is far from perfect or happy. In fact I regret my birth. So don’t tell me I should enjoy it. I hate it. I hate existence. I wish I never happened. So why should I celebrate. No. for I morn today. I regret today. I’m not happy, don’t expect me to be.

I’m not sure why we celebrate birthdays anyways. You might as well say ‘hey you’re not dead yet. Yay!’ Though I wish I was.

Sometimes I wish people didn’t care about me, that my actions were none of their concern. Then I could be selfish. I want to be selfish. If I could have one wish today, Id wish today away. Id wish me away.

Hope

Good things don’t last very long. That’s the problem. As soon as something good happens you might as well start your timer. Sooner or later it’s bound to go back to sad and depressing. And sometimes I wonder whether the high is worth the crash.

It’s the hope. The hope that builds up when something good happens. It makes you feel a little bit better, and you start to wonder how it would feel to be normal. To not regret breathing. To not regret existence. And that maybe you could possibly be on the road to it.

But then hopes just a tease. The most deadliest of poisons to consume your mind. It enters you and eats you out from the inside. Bruises you and leaves you cold. But you’re stupid, you love it like you love your cheating boyfriend. In the end you know you’ll be devastated, but still. That ‘still’ that’s what hope is. It’s a monster. Raging rampage in you insides. It’s the most purists of devils.