Who would have thought the night would end that way?
Two unexpected twists in one narrative.
Maybe I, probably not everyone, was too up there in the sky,
That filters did tire and did leave.
It was an evening of spontaneity,
Everything was just free.
About time to celebrate some liberty,
To all pleasures, no one should feel guilty.
And although I repeatedly said that,
"I really don't know how it works,"
I still have to thank you that bad,
For in that moment you took me to a different world.
I guess I won't know what ****** you,
I guess I shouldn't care,
It was a night that didn't reach past two,
Yet still hours we did share.
While I am guilty of thinking of someone else while we were kissing,
I hope you felt that something was still missing.
But 20 is far from 5,
There's still a lot to do to strive.
"Don't settle," you said,
I think I'd follow.
New wisdom I have to be fed,
No more will I be shallow and hollow.

I would like to believe that someday I will find my way home.
A place, no, a feeling that I can emphatize with wholeheartedly.
Somewhere where my skin fits perfectly free to roam,
Where tears that stream down would end abruptly.
A man is free to dream to be with whom he wants to be,
Perhaps in heavens of whispers on secret room escapades,
Or on the free road with festive decors that lets an unending flow of glee,
Bursts of joy that would make someone hopeless feel saved.
The waves of the oceans of uncertainties will be crashed,
By the roots and foundation of courage and liberty,
The winds of shame will be hushed,
It is time for the well of hatred, imprisonment, and drama to feel thirsty.
All in good time will we reach the moon ever evasive,
We aren't fools who won't stand true to what we desire.
We are what we are - purposive.
We are everything except people who tire.

Would you have wanted to know the colors of the sky
Just to let them fade and from your hands fly?
Is it better to know how jazz sounds like
And never hear it from any other mic?
Was the warmth of the ember worth it
Knowing you'll live in the cold and never again feel the heat?
Do you find the bizarre taste of comfort admirable?
Even if it'll only be served once on the table?
Is your scent worth remembering
Despite the undeniable fact that it's next to nothing?
Was it better to know and have hoped to forget
Or to be ignorant and completely have no memory nor idea of it?
Tell me, to which will I feel less bad:
To lose or to not have had?

What I told a her:
I like your company.
Let's still hang out.
Conversation with you is admirable.
I'll still text you in the middle of the night.
Your snaps are cute.
Replies from me will still be expected.
Our touch's ecstatic.
Will still randomly hold your hand.
We are friends.
We are still friends.

What a she told me:
What you said.

Thinking of you when I'm under the weather might not be the best course of action. For when I do so, I get a weird mix of joy, sadness, and confusion.
Everytime I hear the phone ring, knowing that it will be your voice on the other line; I want to feel that I am saved but I know I will not be fine.

While it is crystal to me that you are, indeed, looking for, whatever, I don't know; My first instinct is that your voice is some music I have to follow.
Thousand scenarios have occurred in my head where I finally confront and tell you that whatever this is has to end; Yet I have never actualized any, for at the moment, you are the only friend who would understand and have listened.

Every night I grab a pillow and pretend that it is you; Speaking to it and sharing imaginations 'til past two.
Immortalizing what has happened during those nights; Which to be honest were not walks in the park with bright lights.

To want and be wanted is what we, or perhaps I, desire. It's a human need that I believe is so dire.
For when lips lock, bodies touch, and breath shared; We make a world of our own where we know that we dared.

Yet our tied moments are loose and blurry; Cause I know that you are not into me as I am into your story. I have always felt that I am not the narrative you long to read; And that you just let me in to play for a pity-feed.

At this point, I would like to ask for your help, an intervention perhaps. Would you be so kind by being unkind and don't let this, for another time, relapse. Addiction can only be cured through good substitution and rehabilitation; So please cut the act as a psychedelic and save me from this spiral of hunger and frustration.

Set me free and I will be free; Take all the happiness and I'll have the rest gladly.
I just really want this to be over, to be done; For what you want me to be, I don't want to become.

We are afraid because it happens very seldom.
Like a train of thought you wanted to write
But suddenly slipped right before your mind.
Thinking that it will not leave your sight
Yet you are uncertain where to look for this rare find.

We are afraid for it might be the last.
Like the remaining pages of a chapter in a book
With characters to whom you were truly hooked.
Waited and waited for a sequel that would not come,
Build up, for you, dear friend, there will be none.

We are afraid that's why we give it all.
As if it was the last poem you will ever write,
Even though knowing that your thought process is an endless river,
Flowing and fighting with all of its mastery and might,
That in one piece you were wishing you are a character in someone's sonder.

We are afraid yet we hope it would for different reasons.
That it will be uncertainties out of unspeakable beauty and bravery,
In a time when there's an us to contemplate and conjure thoughts if we are real and ready.
That fear itself befriends you and becomes your help,
For fear is personified as someone familiar who is no more than the self.

Which would be of less guilt?
To understand and act on it?
Or to dumb down and follow it?

Understanding the error
Is a personal horror
That disturbs you to the core.

The emptiness that isn't new,
You left and let grew,
Feeds on and consumes the nothingness, too.

A tear that won't fall,
Pain that can stall,
Silence that shouts a call.