this is what i chose
i wanted to be the one who chases,
admires, who thinks you’re better than me
you, who i respect and envy.
untouchable.

but why does it feel so bad
compared to being loved and admired?
why does being loved feel so much better than loving?

i’ve always longed to be the admirer
but for the first time in forever
i felt what it was to truly be loved
and now i know how good it feels

why does it feel so much better when you’re the one looking at me with love in your eyes?

dark, entrancing;
the obscure—
neatly wrapped by gleam.

the moon turns its face,
spilling its secrets.

how could you say those things
to your everything
yes, you didn’t mean it
but you should’ve seen it
the blades in your tongue
as you broke me down

forgive and forget
what you don’t regret.

our lives are diverging,
the future we traced began to split.
two sides peeling away from each other,
slowly, but surely, we’re losing touch.

at times, you feel like a stranger.
something about the way you talk
makes me think back.
to the “you” i remember—or the one i don’t.

am i forgetting us?
or just upset about how it’s been?

it’s a little scary, you know?
making forever plans with someone who i might not know.
but there’s something that ties us together.

i often worry that it’s time;
time that holds onto the pages and memories—
hands gripping each other as it ticks.

but i know better than to let go.

Today, my windows are wide open
Once a phantom, the moon lays delicately on the windowsill
as my eyes sparkle front its beauty

Echoing the light from that Opal sky,
when we held each other's heartbeats
and our fears dissipated into the fog.
Covering the blending stars above us.

The moon blossomed into a scarlet eclipse.
And I watched it from afar, my heart ached
Its burning melancholy enriched my senses
with passion, longing, and desire.

It's true, I found myself in that moon
But the most incredible thing I found was not the moon.

it was you.

Waves framing an everlasting ocean
Tumbling bliss and turning light blue memories and wishes into dreams
In a spectacle it unfolded,

The sentiment of innocence marked by the white flower on my wrist,
A romance cut short.