inhale, exhale
i’m just choking on air
each breath reminds me
i’m living—but not really
just breathing enough to exist

q
   u
     i            s
       e           u           r
          t            n          a
                                       y
                                          s                

                                r       o           i       s
bring  the        p                  m                 e
                                                    
            of  a new day

      I         b     r     e     a     t     h     e    

                                                           (I’m okay)

1, 2, 3…
𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡, ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒

I pretend to look for her
but somehow I find her
without even trying                    
Sadness opens her arms wide,
hugs me so hard
I hear my bones break                
I can’t move, I can’t breathe                      
yet she clings onto me tightly
until she melts
right into

my skin

I woke up and
the sun still rises
the flowers still dance
the birds still sing
the world moves on
without you
while I am at a
standstill

fake smiles
white lies
empty desires

i’m lost in the
endless layers
of your mask

bodies untouched
gazes unmet
promises unkept

i found nothing
in the insincerity
of your love

I’m always first
to forgive—
even when
there’s no apology
even when
it’s not deserved

Yet why is it so hard
to forgive myself?
even when
I’m in need of it
even when
I’m always sorry

(I’m sorry to myself)
(I’m sorry to myself)
(I’m sorry to myself)

I keep wondering why
it’s so hard to be human
happiness is fleeting and
we can’t win against time
we chase after the sun only
to burn at the last second
we get attached to what
we will inevitably lose
we’re already at the mercy
of our own minds yet
we keep hurting each other
it’s so hard to be human and
I keep wondering why

I painted you
in all the corners
of my mind and
I fell more in
love each day
with 𝚢̶𝚘̶𝚞̶
the idea of you

I gaze in the mirror
at the bumps and blemishes—
unsightly mistakes etched
on a canvas of skin
I pick at all the red spots
𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏
I pick at all the scabs
𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑
I pick at all the scars
𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕

I peel off all this rotting skin
only to find more layers—
of crippling fear
of clawing jealousy
of heavy shame
eating away at
what is underneath it all—
a woman who does not have
the courage to love herself

I’m hopelessly in love
with being in love—
the way it scares me yet
makes me feel brave
the way it breaks me yet
makes me feel healed
the way it kills a part of me yet
makes me feel alive

we sing our love—
      are we in the same key?
the notes seem to fall flat
      our hearts are missing chords
                                         why can’t I ever match your tempo?
                        the harmonies sound dissonant—
                                   as if we’re doing our own solos
         we dance, trying not to step
                on each other but somehow
                            we are always a little
                                                                ­   offbeat

I keep writing about you
day in and day out
I can’t help it
the words possess me
then keep me up at night
I’m jolted out of bed
just to breathe life
into these blank pages
now tainted with your name
verses about the way
you made me feel
stories about the love
that never existed

But what is it all for?
I look up and only your
o b l i v i o n
stares back at me

we dance like                                 y
tiny paper kites                         l
seeing how high we can    f
just to get a taste of the  
                                       s     k     y
before the pull of g
                                  r
                           ­     a
                                  v
                      ­          i
                                  t
                                y       comes

and we feel again the
                                    e     a     r     t     h ‘   s     hum.

seek solace
in the inevitable—
pain and suffering
will heal only from within,
the unchanging flow of time
will soon change  everything,
the sun will always rise and fall
the moon will still embrace all
today will come to an end
and we may part ways,
but tomorrow awaits
and we will decide
our own fates

it’s ironic / i hoped that writing would help me release everything / all the unwanted feelings and pain / but instead the more i wrote the more i became engulfed by the sea of my emotions / by the very emotions i tried to push away / is that how it’s supposed to be / am i allowed to feel what i need to feel / but what if i can’t stop writing / what if i get swallowed whole before i could let go

to know love,
we forsake our sanity,
the control over
our own minds
we take the risk of
losing more than just
parts of our hearts
to know love,
we break ourselves
over and over
only to chase after it
blindly again
despite knowing that
no one will ever
come close to truly
knowing love

I listen to my heart
and fall prey to
its whimsical detours
the way it marvels
at everything different
then naively
opens its hands wide
it gets blindsided
by love and then
forgot it ever happened

I listen to my mind
its cynical voice tells
me to put up walls
and don’t wish for
what I can’t have
everything is calculated
with fear and doubt
it drowns in loneliness
but at least that’s safer
than believing in love

Wasted      
                     i
                                 s
t            
h          
e   seconds I lived
     t                in my
     h               head
     e   minutes I let anxiety
          t                    build up
          h                        in me
          e   hours I wished I could
               t                                 dis-
               h                          appear
               e   days I wallowed alone in
                    t                                     self-
                    h                                    p­ity
                    e   weeks I tried to outrun all
                         t                                   of my
                         h                                   fears
                         e   months I hated every inch of
                              t                               ­             my-
                              h                 ­                          self
                              e   years when I believed I was worth
                                                                ­                  nothing