I want you. I still want you. We both graduated as the class of 2013, back when we didn't have any worries in the world, back then you were my first love in late spring. But then I moved to brand new city, and we began to fall apart. I thought we could still be happy, that we could still enjoy our days as two slow dancers. At our last meeting, you told me goodbye, my Danish sweetheart, but oh, if only you knew, I'd cross over a burning hill once more to see you.

Signed,

Your lonesome love.

Eyes set on the dark ceiling,

A fresh spot begins to emerge.

Is it really something new?

Or is my eyes playing tricks on me like always?

Maybe I've been looking at the ceiling for too long,

Kept my head held up a bit too high,

I just want to lay down now.

Its puzzling somehow,

My relaxed limbs seem to contradict

The nonstop whirring of my thoughts.

Ah, my vision is getting blurry, finally

Perhaps tonight I can drift easily in the void of my dreams.

Today is quite a busy day,

But all my sister wants to do is go out and play.

I see my mother making sure the house is adorned with lights,

While my father greets guests, smiling and polite.

Looking at all the lit up houses in admiration,

My heart swells with the joy of celebration.

The triumph of light against the dark,

Brings about a spark,

Of gratitude, of awe, and of hope,

Inspiring me when I find myself at the end of my rope.

On this day I pray,

That my loved ones remain cheerful without dismay.

As the henna on my fingertips began to dry,

Outside, I hear the street sellers' cry,

"Come try our delicious sweets,

Don't you want to celebrate the darkness's defeat!"

You were always one step ahead of me. And I loved that about you.

You had the ability to weave an entire world with your words and I'd always get swept up in the waves of your intricate storytelling. An unexpected meeting with an old friend would turn you into a playwright, with me as the audience as you presented your one-man production of the history you two shared. I held your hand, looking at your back, as you explored an infinite world of possibilities in the most mundane things, steady and sure without ever letting go.

Your words fascinated me, liberated me, inspired me to break through turbulent waters and view the world through your eyes. And I tried, I tried so hard to catch up to the brilliance you painted the world with but I was always one step short.

You never seemed to mind; at least not from the start.

Slowly you began to save your words. At first, you'd give me a movie script, gradually turning into an essay, later a paragraph and finally, barely a sentence. You conserved your words for others, setting me aside as shackles slowly began crawling up my wrists. I wanted to reach out for you, to finally express the thoughts bubbling within me but I was far too late. I fell overboard, swallowed by the blue-black abyssal waters as you drifted away from me. I've been trying to swim with both my hands behind my back, trying to close the gap between us, but I am anchored, doomed to spend the rest of my days struggling to remain afloat with my head above the coarse salty reservoir.

I know one day I will be required to break free of these fetters myself, to stop myself from drowning and swim ashore but, my dear, you knew I always feared the ocean.