From summer’s midday air,
to winter’s evening breeze,
it may be bound to happen,
we know, but
was it something inevitable,
like any other
seasons of the year,
or was letting the stars
slip off our fingertips—
a decision you chose
instead of keeping your promise?
I am finally beginning to see the things I was blinded about when I loved you.
I cannot tell you the things I feel about
or how funny the joke was on the radio
or how I got lost and still found my way out of an unfamiliar place,
I cannot tell you the joy which to me the sunset brings
and the glimmer of each dotted star on a clear sky
and the breeze of the wind from the shoreline,
For I know
they won’t change a thing
whatever your mind thinks
or the way you feel,
But would you help me in this task?
Only this little favor of mine,
hoping it won’t take up too much of your time:
No matter how hard it is for you.
Do not lose your fingers, slipping one by one from gripping that single string of hope.
You may not see it now, or tomorrow, or the coming days,
but like a caterpillar in its cocoon, eventually a butterfly will come out,
there will come a time,
the end to all the sufferings, heartache and pain.
I’m reaching you my hand, you can hold it,
any way you want,
on your own terms, I won’t mind.
Just hold on.
with you I will stay,
trust me darling, i will
till we both see the light
at the end of the tunnel.
We were each other’s poison
a love so incomprehensible
it struck us like a venom,
You had to get your way out of death
while I cling to it—
cradled like a child in its dying breath.
I just cannot seem to, every time I try to write and find the words to articulate the extent of my love for him, and how painful it was to let him go.
But then somehow I came to realize, these feelings need not words and need not explaining after all, for I know that no matter what—we may drift far from each other as time unfolds—he will always occupy a special place in my heart, and my soul will never forget how it was to be touched by his love that was once so joyful and pure.
And that sure is enough, more than any words could do.
This is me, finally forgiving and freeing myself from the chains of any memory and heartache that may hold me back from healing and moving forward every day, and to hoping that I will find peace and comfort in my own journey.
That’s not what I crave for. Tell me your biggest fears, your worst nightmares. The person you always dreamed of becoming when you were a kid, and why you think it’s an improbable dream now that you’re grown up. The reason why you never finished reading a particular book. Tell me what ticks you off and how you’re able to find peace just by looking at the serene night sky. Tell me about that old man you saw in the train, clutching his own cane, alone. Or how you would rather not wear your jacket in the midst of a February midnight breeze. Tell me about your frustrations and what makes you hate people so much. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else before.
I wanna know the depths of your mind, see the shadows of your heart. I want to embrace your humanity—you as a person of vulnerability and strength, not just another being forced to live just because you were given life. I want to trace my fingers through every inch of the scars your soul acquires every time you find yourself lost and no one heard your cries. Because I want to be that person who hears. I want to kiss all your bruises whenever life knocks you down yet you still find a way to wake up everyday with a forgiving smile. I want to be the person who helps you heal your ache. I want to be the one you find yourself at home with whenever you cannot seem to find a place where you can fit in this desolate world.
All I want is to be that someone who never leaves you at your lowest point. Who bears with you no matter how rough and ugly things could get. That someone who believes in you when you don’t. Not because I want the same intense of affection from you in return, but because I know exactly what it feels to yearn for a company that’s never there, and I don’t want you to feel that way.
And it’s okay, if you cannot be the same for me, trust me.
I’ll be okay.
You speak to me
as bright as winter’s glow
catching each breath of snow
I take in dearly;
You speak to me
as though the sun had set
for the stars to shine free,
as though rainbow’s end
You speak to me
like how chains clink
off of prisoner’s wrist,
leaving marks of sentence
but none of his regrets;
You speak to me
like those of artworks in a gallery
an incomprehensible picture
none ever understood
but you and me;
like nobody ever did,
and with those mem’ries I’ll keep
’til tremors of thunder
muffled our harmony.