Your words are like chemotherapy;
a dose of truth,
a dose of advise,
a dose of pain and hurt.

Draining me,
breaking me
with the way
the words radiate
through my body.

But once my soul
resonates with those words,
blooming begins
and life starts to flourish
little by little.

Talking about others,
trying to invoke jealousy
in hearts of one another
To see if we still care.

You told me not to be “sensitive” 
So here I am trying to deflect,
but I end up absorbing the pain of your words,
the intricacies of this world,
pretending not to care about what is said 
and has happened.

I hold the tears in,
place a mask on my face,
and a lock on my lips
so that none would spill.

But now I feel numb
unaware of how I feel
and unable to cry.

Now, here you are
calling me emotionless.

I guess there was no in between;
either a heart of ocean
or a heart of stone.

At times they were just plain words on paper
and at times they were expressive and powerful poetry.
At times it was paint spilled all over
and at times it was a masterpiece.
At times it was a stress
and at times it was a relief.

I guess
progress was never meant to be linear.
It was never meant to be all flow
without ebb.
It was never supposed to be all great and good,
but neither were these times supposed to have the power
to bring you down to give up,
because you feel it will never be good enough.

You were lying,
I was believing.
You were deceiving,
I was trusting.
You were pretending,
I was loving.
You were manipulating,
I was falling.

"How can no one see?" he said softly, almost as a whisper that made her brow rise in confusion. But there was a strange slight relief around the curviness of her lips and in those dark deep blue eyes that seemed to have lit up turning a shade lighter. She exhaled a sigh of relief as though she was glad someone was asking or even talking to her.
"How can no one hear the air carrying the whispers of your cries? How can no one see the merge between the depthful ocean and the mysterious galaxy in your eyes? Does no one feel the sadness leaking out of your pores? The way your smile is never complete, how your cheeks does not swallow your eyes no more. Does no one see your face and say You're a beautiful masterpiece made of all these broken pieces and I want to know more."

A vile of acid on your tongue.

You words are like toxins I inhale,
suffocating every breath I take,
injecting self doubt in my veins.
Muscles trembling with every pace,
landfiling my heart with every beat.

Blaming and calling
crazy and emotional
in response to your says,
leaving me to question
my own sanity everyday.

You felt like a insidious catalyst;
a cancerous wound,
a rabid havoc,
a malicious destruction
withering me in the subtlest of ways.

But here we are once again,
rekindling old flames
even when we know it's poisonous for us to stay.

Don't know if we're too weak to leave
or are too mindlessly lusting
for the poison to infiltrate our bloodstream
and corrupt us  to our cellular level.

Either way, it's a grosteque addiction
for the soul, mind and heart.