i don't think i'd have ever be underneath this blanket of stars,

     alone. without her. 

i thought she'd somehow always find her way to find me,

     but i guess, sometimes, the only one that stays with me is myself.

i'd wish she were here, but the silence is comforting.

     that was until my thoughts began bubbling like a toxin.

and i wish i could drown myself into the ocean, but

      the thoughts would just get clearer because of the hollow sound of

water rushing into my eyes and succumbing my life to its will.

     i wonder if she thinks about me, or even remembers me,

and i believe it's been a couple of months since i last saw her,

     and like a god deprived of ambrosia, i starve. and starve.

one day my skin will wrinkle like the remaining dust in an hourglass,

     or will i remain the same, the same psychotic mind and crippled veins

and toxic thoughts that seem to smell like roses underneath the west wind?

     she is all of my blues, and all of the petals i rip off, and yet somehow,

it always ends the same with her loving me not. yet, somehow, she continues

     to defy fate and destiny. i wish she'd see me the way i see myself.

the way i really am. how gold has begun to rust, how the mirror has shattered,

     how the knife is dripping with glistening petals of an anguished rose,

how this heart no longer wants to beat. 

- a god deprived of ambrosia