There is so much sadness in my heart somewhere. Its so thick, I can practically feel it. Its aching me so so deeply. Its physically hurting me now. Like a small twinge of pain, and then a bigger one. And then yet another bigger one. And it keeps coming, it keeps coming it never leaves. 

And yet the tears wont come. The tears... they never come. 

Tonight, my clouds are sad. And they are full of salty water. Its not filled with the oceans kisses, love. Its filled with anger and suffering and heartache and bleeding hopes. 

'Hope'

Four letters the have the power to make your life so fill with love. Like a cold winter evening, with warm lemon tea in a cold, cold city. Or sadness, like the pain you feel while looking at a beautiful flower you saw earlier that day, knowing well enough no one is going to be at the receiving end of it.

And my hopes, that crush me. As if a fragile rose, dead by the hands that its beauty attracted.
And my hopes, that burnt me. My days and nights and rains and sunshine. 
And my hopes, that burnt with me. Like a card board box filled with memories. 
And my hopes, that crush me. Under the paramount depression of a happy smile, and a gifted untold story. 

You say  'give me your heart'. But you silence your own beat?
You say 'give me your pain'. But you forget your own so soon?
You say 'give me your tears'. But you bury your own?

How do you live, my little poem? How do you sing? How do you dream? How do you laugh? How do you prance about? How do you love? How do you breath? How do you smile? And how do you hope? 

Does it not tire your soul? Does it not fill you with helplessness? 

Because I'm so laid down, beloved. I am so laid down that I keep hoping against all hopes that you and I might live again. 

When I come home, leaned at the spine under the crushing weight of your words. When I go out, head held high supported by your unforgotten promises. When I walk under the sky, that reminds me of you and aches instead of healing. When I walk over the earth, that cools instead of burning. When I sleep with visions of a hauntingly beautiful nightmare. And when I wake up, out of a dream and into a nightmare. When my bones are low and heavy, and I just want to lay down. And oh, when my skin tears up as I run and run and run so it doesnt feel the itch of the ghost of your touch. 

I am hopeless, my floating cloud. 
I am so very, very hopeless. 
For I am an insufferable romantic.
Left alone in this world
Which has lost all its charms.

It all ends doesnt it?
This will end too right?
I am down and below it all, butterfly.
Below it all...
Below it all



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