When I met you
We clicked
We synced
Were were meant to be
You said you loved me
And only me
You were mine
I was yours
Until you stopped texting me good morning and goodnight
Until you cancelled our dates to stargaze on the roof
Until our late night deep talks turned into occasional small talk
Until you stopped saying “i love you”
Until you found “her”
The one who's puzzle piece fit yours just a little bit better than mine
We gradually turned into strangers
Because you found “her”
I used to be “her”
And so did the “her” before me
And so will the “her” after
But there is no “her”
Because none of them will be just right

they buried a poet
sprinkled his words over coffin
tossed a book into dirt alongside
and waited few decades
to have a leaf sprout
for winds to carry his lines
far
to one with open ears
another circle in a world of squares
have phrases strain down the cheeks
into ink smeared on paper


buried in a trashcan
in a diary
in a library
in dirt
everywhere really...

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

“Falling in love” is a contradiction in itself, because in love there is only the rising, the ascending, not the falling.
You can not fall in love, but rather, rise.

Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.