(H) Arts

Enjoy the valley

Oh, the stories you tell before sleep
I wonder,
are they meant for you or me to sleep better?

Did the light burn your eyes,
to the point you can't see
the darkness admiring you?

So many things run through your mind every day
and you still have the courage to say
"no, you're crazy."

If all you think about is possibilities,
how is that even possible?

I hope you had fun
reliving our favorite dates,
with different numbers.

You showed me colors
you know I can't see with anyone else
and still, you managed to tell yourself
that by the end of the year, I'd be painting new watercolors.

Ironic.
While I write poetry about the past
someone, at this very moment,
stares and scream emotional words
to the blue sky.

And I wonder, if you are guilty

do you feel bad about that?

Not that I'm still admiring.
I live the way I wrote, just like i did with that character.
You'd (not) be surprised to find out
that I've been talking to the one that blinded her,
the one who belongs to the sky sees everything.

And apparently she really does.
Especially the dark and permanent marks
on the arms that appear
from the one who deserves to die.

Bad, blind or a liar?

I found an old letter,
written in our secret language
that I can't use with anyone else.

It felt so much like I was living in a dream.
Well, it seems I was,
but it wasn't me sleeping.

In the shadows of the night, a whispered gator,
Promises broken, dreams turn to vapor,
With every lie, you play the instigator,
Leaving behind a heart filled with greater strife and hater

how can't you see

you

are

being

a fucking