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k e i Jun 20
a concept:
you in a tux and me in a red dress that reaches my toes. we sit on the hood of your 50’s beat up chevy, drinking cheap wine straight from the bottle, speaking in metaphors and hyperboles. we kiss ‘til our senses burn and no sooner would it be one of those nights we try to stuff in the back of our heads even when we both know better than keeping cool in our own state of denial;

“for without blinking an eye the moon has seen it all.”
k e i Jun 19

you’re gone.

not from this world, no. you didn’t end up taking your life, lying next to what you believed was my lifeless body, only for me to gain consciousness too late, realizing the horrors of what you’ve done with no other choice but to follow through. it was quite an unexpected contrast to this ill-fated romance’s historically known ending.
if anything, we did end up together. somehow, we made it work, swearing on pinky promises that we always would on the roof under skies plagued with stars. with a few snaps of our fingers, we made fate bend to our own will. we believed we ruled fate’s coastlines as we ransacked abandoned buildings spray-painting quotes from our favorite books and lines from the songs we listened and danced mindlessly to on nights we’d chase down bottles with kisses frantic, laughing maniacally, imagining the apocalypse, us two being the last of earth’s inhabitants. as we shared candy corn roaming the carnival grounds, atop the ferris wheel right in time for the sunset’s tail, hands laced with the cheap rings from the marriage booth where we exchanged our hypothetical vows. as we scoured thrift shop racks eager to dress up for the halloween parties our friends threw, seeking the silence of the dim upstairs hallways and bedrooms, making out, costumes half undone while downstairs the crowd got trashed. as we picked items from the aisle on an unplanned grocery run, another batch of your burned meal that i’d roll my eyes at which you’d laugh, volunteering to order take outs in surrender. as we strolled the streets by the lunar tides, enveloped by silence, the comforting kind, the one that talked of what’s lost with the last of our heartbeats.
we were able to get past tragedy embedded in veins of young star-crossed lovers, an inescapable curse. we broke the curse all those times we laid on forest floors drizzled with the dead bodies of stars turning this supposedly sad tale the right side up. we were renegades rejoicing in the mayhem they caused all the nights they sneaked out-even though it wasn’t needed. we didn’t have to be in hiding-our families were surprisingly okay with us together.
our middle fingers were saluted to fate’s face-at least that’s how it felt. we thought we were on top of the world, atop that hill, the city twinkling below us like fairy lights in your bedroom. all our worries below, far behind. funny how all along fate was the one laughing, sneering at our faces. fate never sided with us, it was just waiting for the right moment to show what’s it got up its sleeves, to strike with excruciating tragedy.
and i guess here it is, the tragedy. just not how it’s depicted in history books but nevertheless it occurred like the breath i didn’t know i was holding. maybe in this life fate tried to be kind, but not quite, giving us a softer kind of heartbreak, melodramatic still, just one with no deaths. perhaps it got tired of eavesdropping all the times we used to talk about heaven and hell and dying and how we passed them off like the mere places we got our scars from. we weren’t ever scared of it, a complete opposite of how we were scared of losing the other. or i guess how i was.

i can’t quite comprehend how i faced that fear for you, how i let you go after we sat in your secondhand toyota like how we normally did because it was our safe place to talk. though that the conversation ran sans our usual order of french press and cappuccino and it ran without pleasantries. we talked about us and how you couldn’t see ‘us’ in the future anymore. i don’t know where we started to fall apart neither the how’s or the why’s. i don’t know how i managed to abide by your wish, your selfish plea. all i knew was that if letting you go was what’s going to make you happy then i wasn’t going to stand in the way of your happiness.
so yes, you’re gone but not dead, neither of us is dead. you’re just off to a place miles away from here, from me. you didn’t say where you’re headed but i saw the plane ticket on the nightstand the night before you left.
maybe love’s one huge tragedy once exhausted out. it’s been days and my mind’s in circles more than ever, digging inescapable trenches of this train wreck you’ve forged out of me. and i’m not sure, if this is me or the bitterness speaking, but i think i would’ve preferred our supposed ending. dying side by side.

but don’t mind that, i truly wish you well. i hope you find whatever it is when your feet touch the ground be it a reason to live or some girl named rosaline.

still yours,
your inconsistent whatever is back maybe?
k e i Sep 2020
please know that i’m alright, you don’t have to worry.
i’m sorry for ignoring your messages yesterday. i wasn’t sick, i just decided to skip school and i’m skipping it again today after i drop this off. please don’t be mad-i went to that overlooking spot we’ve planned on seeing together. i really needed some air to think, about the previous weeks. though in all frustating honesty, there’s not much of a need for it- the scenes they’re made up with play on repeat in my head anyway.

i’ve grown fond of getting to know you. of the sound of your voice while you talk about your musings no matter the range of randomness they go by. i’ll always remember that blue’s your favorite color, the satin kind just two shades away from the cerulean of the sea midmorning and that you prefer your meatloafs crispy. i’ll always remember all our exchanges in the locker room that went on even as the bell rang, the notes passed in class contaning nothing but stupid banters. and how can i forget lying in the field, our playlists running along the sky as it got drained of its last pastel colors?
oh how we held hands once, twice-thrice if only i didn’t stare for a second longer than i should’ve, making it awkward.

there’s no use in denying that i’d love to encase your fingers in mine each time i’m with you-be it in the field, in the halls, down some road we’d get lost in, that diner you get a bucket of wings from. perhaps you can fill the gap between my fingers with all the darkness and secrets and the whims you keep at the edges of your mind.

and that’s what terrifies me.
that in the course of talking to you i’ve grown fond of wanting this. of having ‘more’ come out of this.

all my life i’ve known better than tethering in territories anchored by love and all its *******; this isn’t me being cynical just realistic. this is more than just trespassing some abandoned building just to get a nice view from its rooftop. neither is it because of baggages accumulated from past heartbreaks. no it’s not that i fear your being failing to be inhabited by some past lover’s ghost, causing my expectations to be let down. i just have the tendency to act brashly-this part clearly shows just how capable i am of causing you pain, maybe more than the potential of loving. so i’d rather you hurt from this revelation of who i really am.

when you get this please just ignore me, i’d take pleasure in you hating me. ‘cause as much as i want to keep talking to you, i just can’t. i’m sorry.

when what used to be our songs play on shuffle, please don’t ruin them with thoughts of me. they deserve to be shared with someone who’d dedicate them to you as love letters not someone who has goodbye letters for a confession.
k e i Sep 2020
it’s normal.
to have days where you just watch your thoughts reach and flirt with each other in the ceiling.
where you don’t turn that prompt into the opening lines of a poem.
where you’re left unprepared without your best outfit.

it’s normal to have days for sleeping in ‘til 4pm.
where you only tick off two items off your todo list and calling it a day.
where you take time in the shower to sift through your thoughts.

some days are meant for adoring the sky.
for accepting you’re infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things.
some days are meant to be slow.

“and it’s normal and you’re alright-or will soon be.”
k e i Aug 2020
my feet are planted on these wooden planks,
the very separation of the soil beds and the stream. your hand’s quick to envelope mine in its warmth. dandelions dance with the cacophony of the breeze. the lighthouse stands tall a few distances from where we stood.
the sky gets littered by colors, sons and daughters of the sun bidding their farewell
everything within the expanse of the lakeshore showered in their translucence-
and quite frankly darling, we’re left with no exception.
you were staring off the distance
and in that moment you were almost miles away-but i didn’t mind,
for i was too mesmerized by the calmness
you were pulled under, the amber gold canvas bleeding in with the havoc it was pierced with.
i swear it was there where we’ve been in our safest state.
maybe that was our arrival to the once unknown destination we were targeting to be in all our plans to run away, fake our deaths.
we were a world away back there
and despite the sun sinking,
it breached the start of a hundred different voyages.
your presence was the closest i’ve felt to home.

in the expanse of a moment we were something more-something more than our sadness and all that we’ve stored in folds within the silhouettes.
and to a random onlooker,
we were just two kids content on being stupid and naive out on a chase for an i don’t know why the **** i’ve been put in this sick sad world but maybe we can stick together and make it ‘til we’re grey sort of happy ending.
to anyone else we weren’t anything but misfits, a pair lacking sense, knowing no better, junkies screaming out pent up emotions to rock songs on rooftops
or taking hairpin turns on 4am roadtrips that fueled the adrenaline.
thrill seekers, jaded
to anyone else, we were nothing more than a reckless pair almost making their way to the big screen or a typewritten poem the paper creasing on the edges.

but there we were made out of the sunset way past sets of bones and fractures by the sky,
the sunset looked like us.
now it’s months later, and we’ve let everything fade,
scratched out all that we’ve casted on the future, of long forgotten lullabies, null whispers- you’ve erased all our texts and chats,
in turn i have thrown out the flowers you picked and your book recommendations, the diy polaroids piled up in a box.
i stopped listening to all the songs you’ve sent. the curtains in my bedroom no longer match the shade of your hazel brown eyes.
the places i once brought you to are now ghost towns you’d get glimpses of in postcards 50 years from now-
at least that’s how they’re portrayed in my mind. but not without taking a drive, letting my footsteps baptize the ground they trample on with a feverish kiss,
one more time, one last time
clearly you’ve chosen to vanish, no traces left for a breadcrumb trail after that night at the diner where we spilled our closures
delivered with so much declaration,
leftover longing left caged in glassy eyes the whole time.
you stormed away with the last pieces of vulnerability, everything done with one final cruel exchange, just like that,
all my drunk texts a non-stop desperation reeking of “i love you’s” left to no reply;
that should signify that we’ve gone unto depths just to burn all our remnants
-maybe you more than i did.

here we are, free of the artifacts pointing back to each other,
from everywhere we’ve ever been
only to be proven of its blatant wrongness;
for we’ve forgotten about the sunsets but it sure as hell wouldn’t allow itself to be put to rest,
and it does the same thing with everything once marked by it.
you’re no longer here and our shadows have long unlearned the dwelling
once found on each other’s spines.
and maybe this you that never vacated my head even now, the one i couldn’t just bring to hate even after you’re no longer the you breathing softly beside the girl with twilight underneath her eyes.
but darling, the afterglows would pursue each time the sun sets;
each time, it unearths the glass shards from our fights and the longing and the butterflies crumbling onto chaos, our aftermath.
i no longer have an idea if you still marvel at the quiet like you once did,
as i stood there in the shades reflected by the currents under rushing with their beating.
“now we’re worlds away but sunsets still look a lot like us.”
k e i Aug 2020
“so, did you say it?”


“you know what.”


“the butterflies in my stomach; they flutter when i attempt to.”

“so don’t let them turn into moths. they’d only swarm and rattle more cages.”
k e i Aug 2020
i’m sorry. i know i’m four days late but quit talking to me in that annoyed tone. hear me out, i got caught up with deadlines. i drove here as soon as i got them over with.

no just kidding, i can take your annoyance because i showed up late like always over your cold silence. perpetually cold. can’t  ghosts talk? or haven’t you at least learned how to drop objects, knock on walls or change the channels on tv? sometimes when the lights in the dorm’s foyer flicker i quickly think it’s your new way of saying “sup”. then i’d remember the building’s decades old. it could just be some unfixable maintenance problem or perhaps some other ghost.

i hate you for that. we used to talk about how we felt like never truly belonged in highschool. we promised to go to the same college and be dormmates and be there as we got used to our new lives. my roommate finally showed up a week ago, a month too late for freshmen week and all that orientation ****. she’s cool and plays bass in a band. i think you’d get along with her the way she’s a morning person and takes up archaeology like how you said you would.

i can no longer listen to movement’s daylily. paramore’s last hope. all time low’s therapy. pierce the veil’s hold on til may. because i just end up thinking of how i’d make you listen to them whenever you’d call because the urge was getting strong again.

all those times we talked about dying and death and planning our funerals. ****** we were so horridly morbid. i didn’t think you’d actually pull through with it-out of the two of us, you were the one wary of things unfound in your comfort zone and i was the one who took risks. but hell, now i admit my fears surrounded death or atleast intentional ones. i wish i didn’t doubt a single bit that you’d do it.

yours was almost perfect by the way. you wore that white lace dress from your favorite grandmother and the mortician gave you purple highlights. they didn’t put your playlist on because hell, no one could take the upbeatness of the guitar rifts and the drums but the five of us let it go on loop thrice after your burial, drinking on the hood of my car, toasting to our tears. the groupchat doesn’t get flooded with memes anymore. believe me, we tried so hard to have things not change because that’s what you would’ve wanted, for us to keep going even without you.
but **** that, it’s ******* to even pretend;
how do we get past this, past you?

you pierced a permanent gap in what the word platonic soulmate meant for me. i hate you. so, so much.
but i don’t. because ****, you’ve finally chosen yourself like how i always told you to after each breakup you went through with all those ****** guys but i didn’t mean it like that. i can only hope you’re happy in your heaven. we detested that but i would like to believe there’s an afterlife for you. that’s what you deserved all along. i hope it’s one with moshpits and parents who give you earnest attention and neverending halloween.

here. i brought you paper roses. i used blue vellum for this. mind to give me an a+ for effort?

i have to drive back, it’s getting dark. and yes i’ll drive safely and text you when i reach the dorm. i’ll have a spare key behind the picture frame, if you ever wanna drop by.
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