“There are as many worlds as there are kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fire to match the nature of a day, so do I.”

He loves you. He loves us

Scatter the confetti, fire up the cannons
Put on the lovely jackets and hoodies
It's a very cold night tonight
And I'm glad you're with me

Share the bubbling iced tea
Twist forks with radioactive spaghetti
I'm  having a wonderful night tonight
And I'm glad you're with me

Get off the fire place
A jolly good man's coming from above
He has these presents for me
And I'm sure He has ones for you, too

Even though snow doesn't come here
Even though sleigh bells won't ring
I know Someone who has love for everywho
And I'm sure He does love you, too

People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

We Killed Four Canaries.

Today, someone something died.

It was pretty much like a flying red dove,

And did not care where or when it’ll fly.

It just did. And it was called love. (For starters.)

————————————————————————————-

Was it really what they call it?

Or was it a result of, if there is such a word, oversanity?

It doesn’t matter anymore, for what matters is that it’s dead.

And this is its story.
————————————————————————————-
A blue lad was in his blue house, at a blue country.

He was in love (*vomit*) for at least four moons with the orange lass.

An orange lass, in her orange home, surrounded by orange grass.

They were He was in love. (or that’s what he would call it.) It was pretty.

————————————————————————————-

But he was not sure of this. He was afraid,

That the so-called love that he pronounced would go away.

Heck, it was not love. It was shrouded in a grey cloak. But he was happy.

He was happy for her, even if it’s not the same in her part.

————————————————————————————-

Orange lass and blue lad are not one of us.

They were destined to be star-crossed ones. But not now. Not on the 23rd of December.

The lad can only feel love, even if it is a hoax. But it’s good that he cannot feel lust.

He flew through space with his imagination. Then he fell, and that was all he could remember.

————————————————————————————-

I might not be getting to the point, so I’d skip to the part,

Where the blue lad hid his utterly broken heart

He kept it out of sight with a smile. This was for her.

He accepted what will follow, though he was scared to lose her.

————————————————————————————-

That night, the Messengers were ready,

For the moment that would now be an anniversary.

They kept their heads locked, their eyes peeled,

For the conversation that mystery, confusion, and love (*vomits*) has reeled.

————————————————————————————-

“…we’re okay, aren’t we?” spearheaded the lad.

The lass replied.. “Did anything ever change? Do you think any damn thing changed when this happened?”

“I think so, I’m very much happy now. I think I’ve improved, even.”

“Well for me, it felt like some part of me died. I was always thinking of you. Always worrying what would tomorrow bring. Always wondering if I’ll feel the same tomorrow. I died.”

————————————————————————————-

Yep, she died, but not for him. She couldn’t do that.

Oh well. So back to the lad. He got even more frightened.

This will surely end now. But he still hoped the opposite.

“Well, we’re just starting. I could make this better. We could strengthen this. Please.”

“I know it’s cliche enough, but.. it’s not you, it’s me. I can tell.”

————————————————————————————-

That was the longest silence he’s ever heard.

He looked up to the sky and thought of the times when they were fine.

She said “Maybe it’s not meant to be. After all, we’re a poisonous coal mine.”

Ever heard of poisonous coal mines? They could kill canaries. Yes, those birds.

————————————————————————————-

He looked up to the sky again and accepted the death wish.

“Nothing will ever change. I promise.” swore the lass with all her heart.

Has he got nothing to lose? He certainly did. He thought for a while

“Well, I could not do anything anymore. I guess it’s done. Heh.”

————————————————————————————-

It may not be the right words, but you get the story,

Of his and her love’s death anniversary

The blue devil may cry in this gamble,

But at least, on his heart, the orange lass did not trample.

Human beings, like plants, grow in the soil of acceptance, not in the atmosphere of rejection.

You suck, don’t you?

Let me tell you the story of the fog that wept for the smoke for they couldn’t go together as their amalgamation would destroy everyone near them, according to her. The smog.

The fog was very kind, and forgiving. The smoke was all except warmhearted. She did not care for the fog, for she has other substances to linger with, like the clouds that were higher, and stronger than the feeble fog.

She made the fog cold, too. Her ignorance towards the feelings for fog made him mad. and by mad, I mean crazy for he could not get mad at anyone, especially her. The fog did not blame her for what happened. He simply could not. Or was it that simple? The fog wishes it was. But fate intervened and made it worse.

Sad and weak, the fog went up to the mountains to linger. He wept, like a cloud, but could not. He instead condensed to a river, even if it was scientifically unproven. He defied science, that’s how special he is. Was, I mean. That’s how special he was. To think that the smoke shrugged of the smog they had for a long time… It’s priceless. He——he.

A river that does not flow, instead it grows. Grows larger and larger by the minute, by the second. Maybe that’s how he cries. The embodiment of sadness as witnessed by the clouds, the mountains, and the b-word smoke.

The sun did not want his light be translucent as it passes through the sad river. It shone brighter and made its nuclear reactions faster. The heat of the glowing ball of hot gas vaporized the fog, the river, the sadness. It was gone. He was gone. At last.

As we’ve known in the water cycle, no water is lost on Earth. The fog, the river, the sadness finally became a cloud, the bed of liquids that the b-word smoke adored. She still did not love him. Why? Because he has changed so much that she could not even figure out who or what this thing is. That’s how unforgiving she is. She sucks. That’s how she ends the story of the fog. Yep, she ended it, and not the fog. That’s how intervening she is. She sucks. She couldn’t realize that she made him like that. That’s how close-minded she is. She sucks. I hope you’re not like her. I hope you don’t suck, do you?