time: 12:01pm
music: collide - howie day
mood: .....
residue.
we're bent on bruising ourselves blue,
the lights bending into cellophane red, green and yellow.
lips grow less rubicund for a holocaust of the heart to invade.
i say, we've all locked ourselves in and remembered to lock the back-door. loneliness swallows back a sob or two
and suddenly even my mind refuses to accompany me.
it tries to think of something else.
honest:
this empty blots me and inkjet stain bleeds on my mind
as i find myself always creeping around your shadow
like a schizoid maverick with a secret revolution.
and each time i lose myself.
lose ourselves; remember?
i remember. once or twice,
you'd swing your doors wide open for me,
even tore them off their hinges
and ushered for me to come home to you.
but the coffee is still sitting
still in the hold of the white mug
and i still can only stare at it politely,
grit my teeth - clinging on to myself.
still.
like our pictures were but images of cheographed happiness.
it was as if some divine artist painted onto life,
only to let the colours bleed and fade all over me.
perhaps to you,
i am just a bittersweet omen; a caricature reminder of loss.
