I don't want to fetishize my sadness
So I make a new feel better playlist
And sing along as I start journaling in an old diary.
When all the songs have merged into the silence
And there's a tear stained dairy
with another i don't feel like living anymore monologue
I realise that it doesn't get any sadder than this.
I throw away the diary into a corner to collect dust until next time it feels like tomorrow.

-

Our teacher stops the class midway
to point out that I don't smile as often
I want to tell her
that there's a stack of suicide notes
safely wrapped in my bag
That some girl said that
my appearance made her uncomfortable
That I cried last night because
i couldn't find the long side of the blanket
That i take blurry pics of night sky
because it's too god damn hard
to keep my head up during the day
That there's tear stains on my dusty diary
But none of these are reasons not to smile
So the next time i see that teacher
I'll widen the edges of my lips
to make an imperfect curve

-

I have buried more graves
than the lilies you have to lay on them

There is always a funeral,
For a part of me dies everyday.

-

The After Affair.
(in caption)

-

There's hope that things will get better
But it never does.
I wake up with same ache I slept with last night
Before I realise that
I've lived another day in vain
I am Crawling under the sheets
Hoping that the next sunrise is a different day

-

I have written more suicide notes
than love letters,
Yet i haven't been able to love or kill myself.
These extremely opposite experience
seems similar to me.
Everything builds up to this one moment
Sharp blade pressed against my veins
And words lined up in my throat,
Just waiting.
I drop the blade hoping
there is a glimmer of love somewhere
meant just for me.
I gulp in those words fearing
that if i kill myself u will be scarred for life.

This poem is also one of the reason why
I cannot love because
I don't know if I'm writing a suicide note or a love letter anymore.

-

Everytime I have a breakdown
I check to see how far off is my periods
Hoping that's it's just the hormones.
I don't know how i got here.
The first time there was no one to talk to
Later I didn't wanted to talk about it
And now I am unable to talk
Because this grief
Doesn't stem from pain of any kind.

It starts off as these frequent stab of pain
And evolves from nothing into
an unending episode of
Fear, guilt, and sadness.
At times I wish there was shutdown button
Like a blade against my veins
But i fear what if my
death is more of a disappointment
than my life

-

I disguise my pain
In the poetries of a lost love.
As if i know what it is
To love or to be loved,
As if i haven't walked
Out on people trying to help.

This pain manifests itself
Into something acceptable.
The one you can sympathize with,
Because when I say it hurts
You ask for wounds.

-

And at the end,
Do not say if only they had spoken about it.

The signs were right there
Everytime you asked
My day was always 'good'
I was always 'fine'
I looked dead in the eyes
Yet you asked me to smile more often
I'd deny your calls
Only to call back with a more convincing voice
There was always something wrong
with my face
For i hadn't looked at mirror in days
Fearing that I'd not recognise myself
Every passing day my voice became softer
Until you got used to my
Non existent state of presence.

-

The scars remain
long after you are gone.
Perhaps a souvenir to
the home we once were.

I still relish the rythm
I no longer hear.
For the promise of forever
Is a grave of the living.

-