Art in Words

2

For this love, I bleed out in the corner of the ceiling above the memories of paradise with you.
Gradually I begin to notice how everything I once had to call my own had been stolen, unbeknownst to me, and I perish into nothingness.

All that's left in this little home, which used to be our shining metropolis of love and understanding, lie the remains of the family we never had and the ashes of luxuries we had yet to obtain.
You stand in the middle of it all, shining as the northern star does in the early nighttime sky.

Hope, that is what you embody. You carry on.

A beacon of hope for everything that is and that isn't; for all that has been and all that will be; everything that could've been, everything that cannot be.

Accidental cruelty always makes itself present here, with you.
Instead of hearing my prayers, it shall fall deaf to your ears and you shall carry on.

You move forward without me.