Taste

All cold and worried, I remember
Your soft cheeks, your voice,
All in the warm sweetness that slowly
Starts to seep out of my mind..

I knew it from the beginning,
But why does this still hurt?
A hard candy will surely melt away,
The more you try to taste it.

I didn’t think it was possible,
To love despite the bitterness?
I’ll never understand,
Because it’ll never be me.

If there’s no tomorrow for us,
I’ll be able to continue living
In a web of lies, without ever knowing
The taste that I really need.

She smelled good, didn’t she?

A gentle knock, a soft reminder
Just enough to recapture your heart
When her fading footsteps back then,
Were her only answer
For your near-sighted heart..

It would remain forever incomplete
But isn’t that what love really is?
Amidst everything that used to be
The calmest of seas, just before a storm was born
And drifted the two of you apart?

It was never your fault or hers
Perfection should always stay in delusion
To continue confining yourself in those thoughts
Even the world would never accept
For you to slowly die in monotony.

Now that I have your attention;
I’ve never really wanted an unbreakable love.
Why would I ask for anything other than
Those anxieties that drove my pulse faster?
Maybe she was the same.

Voice

Before that voice of yours becomes the past
Would you tone it down for once?
I pretended I didn’t see that swirling grudge
As you rushed off past me
Thought I was terribly foolish
To have wished to leave
Without accomplishing anything
The time when as though running away
Would have never left such a big stain
You know, you’re not the only one
To have the intent to kill it off
But here I am, drenched in my own silence
After you threw away your voice elsewhere
I’d rather listen to it all over again.

.

I know exactly how it feels
To be alone, when I’m not completely alone
And I know I’ve always been good at
Deceiving others into thinking I’m completely fine.
Sometimes I don’t even have to try —
After all, they don’t bother finding out the truth.
And clearly when you’re all alone
You could only hear your own thoughts speaking
I’d made up so many unreal conversations in my head
To the point where, at any time, I could trick myself into thinking
All the wrongs in the past, all the hearts that I’ve broken
And the fact that I’ll always be stuck in this cycle
Of falling apart. Unable to go back to what’s real.
Worst of all, I could always reason with myself
That I’m better off alone.
That I’m better off not making anyone else suffer.
I could keep going on and on, talking while listing
The reasons why I can never escape, as long as I’m breathing —
And nobody would reply.

Summer

Drowning, I’m cursing at the sky again
I can’t hear your embrace from all these waves
I’ve hit my head along the jagged rocks
And praying that you’d pick me up again.

I’ve crashed so many times before,
And I’m perfectly sober now but why does that
Your pitiful words on my screen
Only spells out the things that I don’t want to hear?

It’s always been like this —
You called me out, and I’ll come to you
Like flocks of birds seeking warmth
The summer that forever belongs in your name.

That’s how I feel whenever I’m with you;
Summertime that I deserve, strolling through
Soft sands under the cloudless skies
Reaching out to God and singing our gratitude

No matter how far I’ve drifted away
This sea is dying. And I believe that
My tears will stop, along with the current
Just like the summer that disappears with you.

Letters

It’s not everyday you’d read love letters of a past lover of your partner.

“I’m throwing them away.”

I didn’t even think twice — I held back his hand, pleading for those letters.

“That’s odd”, he chuckled, “of course you can read them, it’s just unusual you’d want to keep them.”

It was the handwriting of a young girl desperate for love. It was small with meticulous curves — she mentioned your name a lot.

Her daytime dreams poured into words; those were the only thing she could depend on to bring you back.

She’d reminisced about the past, when you two were still together, before she wrote those letters that were simply the results of a broken heart, still unwilling to accept your farewell.

This girl who loved you, whom I’ve never even met, taught me a lesson that day.

And every time I read those letters, I’m reminded of a girl who I’d never want to be.

It’s 11:11 PM. (An Excerpt from My Life #1)

I have 32 minutes until the laundry is done, but I guess it’s alright–because to me, time is the water that runs through the spaces of my fingers. And realistically, a waiting that “feels like forever” is downright absurd.

I’m not depressed, but it’s depressing knowing that I’ll be having an important test tomorrow yet I’m completely over it already. And no, it’s definitely not because I was arguing with my loved one through an online messenger and he fell asleep midway an hour ago. Not that it’s killing my cells and nerves that we have yet to arrive at a conclusion, but I suppose he needed the sleep more. But then again, this small room where I live in has so much void ironically, it’s starting to feel depressing.

What’s a good topic to write? Writing isn’t even my occupation, but rather helps me sort the things in my mind. Speaking and voicing the words out don’t work well enough in my case, actually, I think words are a weird communication tool. Their meaning becomes different once I speak them. Thus, I write. And eventually I seek consolation through the searching for synonyms and spelling correction.

I remember my friends back in junior high making wishes at 11:11 AM at school. They claimed it’s a magical time, and your wish will come true. I think it was baloney, but I’d still remember this idea every now and then. Honestly I’d wish for something that could settle my upset stomach right now. On top of it all, sleeping is out of the question tonight–not that it’s a problem, but wishing that my body could cope with this sort of habit works too.

It’s more quiet now. I’m talking about the voices in my head, though, this room has always been silent, which I appreciate aside from not judging my occasional neglect to social or basic humane responsibilities. What am I saying? Oh dear, I wish I could laugh at my pathetic attempt to sound like poetry.

I should check my laundry now.