#pocochon

I want to understand your melancholy; wander through the abyss that you inhabit.

I want to be the happy blanket that wraps you, and drain the pain that drowns you.

I want to know your secrets, explore your silences, extinguish your burning loneliness, and unfog your eyes of nothingness.

I want to germinate the empty fields in your mind, grow myself in the fertile spaces of your heart.

I hid all the mirrors, and now I can't remember my face.

It's like the dark side of the moon, that can only be seen from outer space.

The last time you saw me, I was longing for your embrace.

Now I am just a shadow that you remember less and less.

I want someone to pick me, heal me, get me out of this mess.

To awaken the parts of me I feel are already dead

Sometimes you have to crawl out of your own grave, in the opposite direction to the universe, through a deep dead smile… like the night’s hunger sewn under every sunset.

We hide the pain that sprouts out of broken hopes, so that we can live up to the expectations we set to avoid guilt.

No one wants to live a lie and discover they haven't lived. No one wants to get lost in the hollow of their story.

Our misery is the cliff from where we throw ourself every night.

Falling into the deep waters of our own insecurities… disappearing between the expanding ripples.

Sinking into the silence that lies under our skin, like the dull cry of an endless farewell… incessant and debilitating.

Indecisive, like everchanging passing clouds dispersing into a gray sky… so full of nothing.

The moon, your breath, the breeze… a caress and our first kiss, and you, in spite of time, still stuck in me.

An afternoon, a morning, and another kiss. Your hair, your mouth, your eyes, and in disguise, your heart printed on mine.

First love, that flower, this desire… Your warmth, that voice, . Your last tear, a cry, and that implausible goodbye.

Sometimes I find myself in the middle of a room crying inside, as my tears fall through me, like raindrops diving into the craters of the moon.

Mixing into the dirt stolen from the graves of hundreds of my mistakes. Turning the guilt in my gut into a swamp where there's no escape.

I feel desolated and cornered, like a spider seeking shelter in a old house that's being renovated.

Every breath I take seems to dissipate into the saturated aura that entraps me.

An unrecognizable pain, creeping like a shadow that numbs me.

I want to wake up, but, am I really dreaming?

Sometimes it gets so quiet in this house, that for a brief moment I get to see your fleeting ghost before I find myself staring at a wall.

I wonder if what allows you to come and go is this sorrow I have accumulated, so profound, and at times persuasive and silent, that no amount of noise can control or dissipate.

As one longingly admires an old picture, my mind replays fragments of memories, unearthing my past, in a desperate gasp for hope, as if happiness were the goal of my existence.

I can still hear your laughter, loud and intentional, like the flapping of a bird being freed from its cage. An incessant echo in my head that reminds me the sparkle of my life isn't completely gone.

Your subtle voice is a familiar sound. A constant presence, like a never-ending comfort. Sometimes slowly moving to the left side of my chest, to prevent my heart from indulging its pain.

Ultimately, I guess this is what it feels like to be reminded that someone you love, loved you back.

If I could sweep away your footprints from my past I wouldn't be able to trace my way back.

If I could wash off your caresses from my skin, the next time I feel you wouldn't be a mortal sin.

If I could drain this flooded mind of all the thoughts of you, my ideas and dreams wouldn't be subdued.

If I could unearth every seed of doubt you planted in me, I would let hope grow, and finally set myself free.