my soul will continue to
wander,
alone and numb as i
embark,
for i know
along the road,
i will somehow befriend
the dark.

it'll bring forth
fake warmth,
similar to hand in hand
friction,
—heat
that i know
will try to
fool me,
yet will still act
like it's an
unplanned intrusion.

forgive us not,
and by us
i mean them.
for i myself,
am just standing
on life's farthest
hem.

deem yourself worthy
if you somehow
understand.
considering that
ironically,
i lived for years,
but i still cannot
grasp
the rules of
this land.

the cold breeze never hugged
my body like this
before.

this is new. intoxicating.

looking at my hands.
empty.
there's this
tiny pang of pain subtle enough
to be noticed.

i didn't, at first.

now it's like the daily newspaper,
thrown onto my freshly mowed lawn
of self-judgement,
waiting
for someone to pick it up.

i never do.

maybe if the sun came back,
this wouldn't have happened.
but it didn't.
you didn't.

but it was alright.
you were like the summer
without the overbearing
heat.
you reminded me of
melted ice-cream and
sticky hands.

you are nostalgic.

sadly,
you can't force the sun to
come out
when it's raining.

breathe in.
breathe out.
nothing but the
silence of the
trees
are present.

its deep serenity
trying to take over
your system.

it's knocking on
the door.
you open it,
just to close it back
again.

the subtle wind
whispers into your
ear.
simultaneously caging
you from the outside
world,
but exposing you
to your own.

i always told you
i'd fall for you like rain
in a september afternoon.
how my love is an embodiment
of a blooming red tulip,
basking in the sun's ever lasting
warmth,
like the first ever smile you threw my way.

they would tell me
that the universe is saying
we aren't meant to be.
how can't we,
when the stars that night
when we mutually tried escaping reality,
says otherwise?

you once asked me
what we are,
and i remember not answering.

but if i had the chance again,
i would tell you that
you make me feel like
the first snow of winter
and simultaneously,
the last.

so if i asked you
if you felt the same,
would you say yes?

you passed by
like a storm roaring with rage,
seeking for revenge.
but now,
you were like the last snowfall,
hugging the warm ground
you once called home.

for years
you've trapped me inside an eternity
of both bliss and bane.
but now,
with a smile,
you finally bid good bye.

to the person
who first taught me how to love
and to the person
who first taught me how to let go.

--this is for you.

i once came across a bottle of thoughts.
opening it, not knowing what it lies,
only to realize it's yours.

both happiness and despair can be read,
warmth and isolation can be felt.
every thought was accompanied by a tone,
but one melody after another,
it felt a lot more melancholic
than i expected.

there was a sense of longing,
a somewhat cry for help.

and for a little while,
you made me forget loneliness exists.
so as a sign of gratitude,
i'll empty out my happiness,
and put them in the bottle,
—for you.

i learned how to read,
at the age of three.
learned how to make friends,
at the age of five.
started to top my classes,
at the age of seven.

but when i turned nine,
my parents started to crave for
my academical success
more than their own child.

when i turned eleven,
i started to feel like i was drowning
in an endless sea of
self-doubt and self-hatred.

so at the age of thirteen,
unfortunately,
i realized that the blade
from a pencil sharpener
can be used
for something else.