Gone with the dark

​Bathed in darkness,

She shone like a beacon,

Inviting all the lost souls home.

She enveloped them in warmth

To thaw their frozen hearts.

And while she was busy

Healing their brokenness,

Nobody noticed her glow starting to fade.

The beacon had broken,

Nobody saw her pleading for help

As the darkness swallowed her whole.


A Forgotten Name.

She’d write her name with yours,
Write and rewrite.
Her name, it looked beautiful in ink,
Not really understanding your betrayal,
While in reality,
It bled.
Just like her heart.
The longer she stared at the ink,
The more red it seemed to get,
Until it too turned into blood,
Seeping through
The pages of her journal.
The pages of her life.
Stained and ugly,
She tried to wash those stains away,
Not really caring
That she was washing away her existence,
Until only a smear remained
On the leather-bound exterior.
It tells stories now,
Of a how a life was exhausted,
While washing away the stains
Left by betrayal.
Of how, even on paper,
She wouldn’t let there be any signs
That’d mar your name.
Of how, she loved you so much,
She washed away her name from yours,
Just so it’d continue to look beautiful.
To be beautiful.
Without her ugly existence.

Fiery cold.

Soul as dark as the ashes
Of those letters.
The photographs,
Shredded to bits,
Like the heart
Broken into
A thousand little pieces.
Drowning in spirits,
Trying to tear down
The countless forts
Built together.
Passing out cold,
Hoping to wake up
With no memories of yesterday,
Or life.
A love so dark,
They couldn’t let it be.
A soul so tired,
Why couldn’t they let it be?
The tears,
They continued to flow,
Hoping to thaw
The iciness within.
An iciness that blazed,
Like a fire that licked
Everything it touched.
It won’t stop,
Until everthing is
Burnt down.
It won’t stop,
Until everything is


Black And White Rainbows.

Dark shadows,
Frosty winds,
And it snows,
Red snow.

The forbidden fruit,
Alluring temptation.
A force so brute,
And ugly scars.

She moved deeper,
Lost in grey memories,
Into darker,
Unchartered territories.

A phantom world,
Hissing, coiled snakes,
Poisonous vines curled
Around haunted graves.

Hooting owls,
Leathery bats,
Mournful howls
Coming from lost souls.

Flickering lights,
Whistling winds,
Blood-chilling sights
And creeping shadows.

She walked, oblivious,
Forgetting all,
Searching for a departed soul,
Behind the cursed wall.

And she found him there,
Under the weeping willow.
Sitting without a care,
He played a deadly melody.

She cried,
One last tear, one last sob,
And he smiled,
A vacant smile.

His eyes, dead blobs,
His face, a hollow mask.
And they kissed,
The kiss of death.

And she shed her colors,
Embracing the dark,
Painting the gloomy sky,
With her black and white rainbows.

No Punctuation.

She’d seen what it was like to have one’s heart broken. Now, it was her turn to experience it. The fear, the loneliness, it was all so overwhelming. The pain engulfed her. It was like drowning, having no air reach her lungs. But this, this was much worse. She couldn’t form any coherent thought, let alone a sensible sentence. And then she remembered him. His eyes. His smile. Everything. He was the lone ray of sunshine in her life. And now, he was gone, leaving her life pitch black. She tried clutching onto the good memories, but they were fast leaving her, making her feel cold and sick, like one would feel on a storm-tossed night. She tried to numb herself to the pain, tried to forget all thoughts, good and bad, but she couldn’t. She rubbed and rubbed. Until all that remained was an eraser smear where once happiness had been. Anymore rubbing would leave a hole. A hole that couldn’t ever be repaired. The pages in her book of life were coming to an end. Much earlier than they should have. The chapters were getting shorter and sadder, until all that will remain, could remain,  will be a full stop. A punctuation mark to state the end of her pitiful life. She cringed when she looked into a mirror. How long ago was it, when she’d dance away all her worries in front of those very same mirrors? She’d placed them everywhere in hopes of casting away all her worries when she saw her graceful self in them. And cast away they did, only until now, when they’d started throwing her good-for-nothing state back at her. It was like losing a best friend. Only these were so many. They were once her dream come true and now, they’d become a nightmare. The worst kind. Everyday, she would lose some more of herself, withering away. Losing the grace, the passion, the glow, the happiness. The once shining eyes were now reduced to dull globs of brown and white. They’d braved the storms of life and now they looked empty and hollow, not unlike the way she felt. She’d lost all those curves that made all the girls green with envy and now all that was left was skin and bones. With one last long look in the mirror, she sat down to write on the last page that was left in the book, only to notice she’d ran out of ink. Out of hope. There would be no punctuation. No end. Just an empty page reminding people of what was once beautiful and that it could be reduced to nothingness. She didn’t get the punctuation she was hoping she would. If only the ink could last a little longer to leave a full stop, even if it’d be to an incomplete word. If only her hope could last a little longer to give her the ending she’d waited for. If only.