Resilience.

Disillusionment deepens the depression that drearily duets with one's demise; I dance disenchanted denying the depression that dared to darken and dye your divine eyes. Misery mated with melancholia and made me mourn the melodies that you mustered that I often mistook for lullabies, as the fire inside you chose to flee instead of fight creating embers, then ashes before departing and saying its final goodbye. I am weakened by your weakness, what happened to the wonder that once won and would no longer wash your sorrows ashore? Saddened, I can only speculate now that love don't live here anymore. Everything is nothing now as impermanence asserts itself, the potency of your potential declined and started to melt like the Arctic shelf. Was it not enough that I would hang on to your every word, or was it inadequate, as it is now obvious that your restless spirit felt as caged as a captured bird. Bountiful bliss that I am now forced to accept as a blessing in your place is hardly a substitute for you who held the power to rehabilitate the human race and the sole recipient of the rare love inside me that now feels displaced. Misplaced but not lost as the resilience within me is certain to be my saving grace, as I know that our day will come where my soul will feel as renewed as the first time ever I saw your face. With the memories of my mortality, I am forced to either accept death as a part of life or succumb to it as well. You are now Eve in paradise, we will have our Eden again as I will forever remain under your spell. The blatant beauty that you bore was often beleaguered by the blues, new beginnings can occur through some endings, my friend, although ultimately, it is our own volition to decide what we will choose. I toss salt over my shoulder, and grasp tighter to my lucky charms as I say several prayers for you, hoping that you are now safe and soundly protected from harm. Choking on the truth, I feel I have no choice but to accept the harshness that reality relies on to take us by surprise, even though I know that a day will arrive when we will be reunited and bask once again in the sun's majestic rise. Instead of failing, or falling, I will be persistent and prevail turning my sadness into triumphs and tries, I will not give up, or back down but cherish the life that I have been given, and view each new day as the reward that it is, for each one is truly a prize.

Believe.

Through all these years, and all these memories, there has been you. You pulled me through time, and now I search for you. I listen for your voice in the wind that moves my soul. I try to smell your scent, the pleasures that would make you whole. I attempt to feel the touch of your caress, when you would dry the tears that fell from my weary eyes. I dare to question why, you have ceased to exist without allowing room for me to say a proper goodbye. In smoke, I look for you, hoping that you will give me a sign that you have passed onto the other side, and gone home to a place that is free of flawed design. I cry, sob, wail, then weep as the strength comes and goes. Although, you left with grace, I know that your independent nature and spirit chose to leave this world for a better, and far more liberating place. Now that you are gone, I can still feel your energy in everything I do. From the moment I wake, to the last hours of my day, my thoughts and prayers are centred on you. Even the blues that rise to the surface longing to be put to music and sung, are nothing without the strength you gave me to articulate the words that flavour my tongue. From the Earth we rise, and back into it we go, our blood soaks into the soil, making us far more immortal than we will ever know. Yet still, I long to hear the softness of your voice when you would harmonize, creating melodies that came from deep within your heart, and to the Heavens they would rise. I drink freely from the fountain of youth hoping to carry on your legacy and one day make you proud, you were my queen, now and forever, we will meet again when my life ends, mending my heart, as we play amongst the clouds. A requiem for the dreams that I saw reflected in your eyes, now I will have to muster the courage to sing the sweetest reprise. The tree of life that continues to grow inside me will always have branches that are made beautiful by your leaves. From now, until my dying day, in your essence, I will always believe.

Goodbye.

These tattoo tears that are tumultuous terrorize my eyes, never superfluous. The sadness I've seen is too much for movie screens, wildly, as it moves through the streets, my angered, agitated ambulance careens. I crossed the finish line only to discover it was lined with dirt and not gold, prayed to find someone to hold to ensure that I would survive another night, and make it through the cold. I get older, never wiser, as my torrid past catches up to me and leaves me out at sea. Drowning in my misery, choking on thoughts of suicide that refuse to let me be. The sharper the knife, the lesser the strife that will slowly cut away the pain. The repressed memories and rage can no longer set the stage for the fake smile that gets plastered on my face. Packed my bags, and relinquished the spiritual baggage that kept me grounded within this place. The friends that solely pretend to be concerned have all been abandoned now, as I count the ways in which this camel's back is broken; it is time to take my final bow. No longer able to put on an act in this life that is merely a stage, all the players and actors within it have resulted in my heart being unable to set itself free from this cage. Theatrics, dramatics, melodrama too, are the ingredients that once added the flavouring to my sorrowful stew. Tears stain my face like mascara running from eyes that once sparkled and seemed so bright, praying, pleading that I will survive through just one more night. If I somehow do, and my soul has still survived, I continuously attempt to trick myself into believing that I am still grateful to be alive. But alas, I am not, as there is so much that is not apparent on the surface. At twenty four, I feel like I have served my purpose and I am no longer nervous to meet my creator, and bid adieu to this sedimentary circus. Goodbye, au revoir, in time we will meet again. I failed, and have lost; all I ever wanted was a friend.

Clown.

I will do what ever it takes to shake you off and make my way to the top. I'll step on your fingers, stand on your back, use and abuse you until you can no longer take my massive attack. I am no longer able to be fake or phony and feign ignorance as if I do not realize that you are far below me. I will always find others that can be more loyal, you were only good for me when I needed you, the milk to my oil but you made the wrong move, and now any chances of us rekindling are spoiled. My path to success will be lined with the blood, sweat and tears of my peers who did not hesitate or think twice before acting weird and not as wise as intelligent as appeared. In arrears, I will display your fears before you, lay them out straight on your front lawn and show you that you doubted me, then kicked me when I was down. That you are troubled now, and are far more entertaining than any common circus clown. From Pierrot to Bozo, Pennywise or Krusty, your jokes are starting to fail to amuse, your talent's starting to get rusty. You are a one trick pony, the old dog that could not learn new tricks, so go to sleep now, rest your head down, it is time for you to get fixed. I have had my fair share of dealing with your audacity, every time you needed me, I was there to no avail, and even still you tried to sass me. Only ended up looking like an ass, you court jester fool, just a word of advice for the future, put away your phone and pick up a book and get schooled, or at the very least learn the rules before you try to play games in which you are untrained. Missiles, shrapnel, landmines, and atomic bombs became the desert rain songs that were only ever able to keep you calm. Napalm to my gunpowder, your bow and arrows never stood a chance. Success is on the horizon, so sweet that I can taste its virtuous victory on my tongue, as I climb up higher on life's rungs. You can stay stung, I refuse to help you out or pick you up again. No longer privy to your petulance, I am now the only friend I need to mend.