This is an anecdote of my sympathies
ink too valuable to bleed
your demons are aiding in your downfall
as you are wasting away without me

Too exhausted to emote
Too reasonable to sigh
Too aware to shed a single tear
Too gone to not lie

A faint protest leaves my lips
after asking if you’re okay
‘cause I remember that the gleams
in your eyes have always been stars
that died light-years away
and my telescope cannot compare

I want to lead a life where
if I see something that inspires,
I could just stop what I’m doing
and snap my Canon
but to give you the life I know you deserve,
my sympathy creaks, cries,
aching for a time when it gets a break
causing my late nights lying in bed at night worrying
and unending love
to come off as frustration and burden

But in the end,
my efforts proved futile
for even while trying to reconcile
the scattered apologies and macabre self-discipline
that you were-
my very being tearing,
a chill glides up my spine
that would have put icebergs to shame
when you say, you preach,
you breathe,
“villains don’t get a happy ending.”

Tears finally building up to the point of no hiding being possible,
I hesitantly stand up and
wipe the grass off of me,
set the bouquet of never enough ‘sorry’s’ and sunflowers
(your favorite)
on the cold, undeserving grass, and
take in one hand the skeletons of sunflower’s past,
and with my other touching the cold stone
as I gently glide my fingers over the smooth,
unfortunately familiar arc and say,
I loved you more than all of this,
but I’ll be back tomorrow, love.