I think those who are in love on this era is cursed,
not that their love is delusional nor artificial
But because their manisfestation of love is perceived
by how society visualizes and defines it

We think someone genuinely love us because
they upload hundreds of photos of us
We think someone sincerely love us because
they write essay competition-worthy captions
We think someone truly love us because
they praise us at all of our selfie posts

To me, love is listening to a music
and suddenly it reminds you of them
To me, love is reading a good book
and suddenly wants them to read it as well
To me, love is when winter comes and all you ever think is whether they wear their warm clothes
To me, love is when the night comes and all you think of is how his day was

Well, then again, Chbosky once said that
"we accept the love we think we deserve"
And maybe we don't get to choose the way we love
or the way we want to be loved
Simply because we think it's the kind of love
that deserves us

Every corner on this earth
feels like war zone

Every mouth of the people
tastes like revenge

How do we find peace
in this midst of chaos?

The worst thing about losing someone to death is that
you didn't actually get that chance to pay your farewell

When they leave,
they just left

Suddenly, their brain refused to consume the oxygen,
their heart refused to pump the blood to the veins
It was almost felt like all those organs and cells had conspired together and finally come to their final conclusion

There will be days when you feel like grieving
and mourning over them are as normal as breathing

And it's okay,
it's okay

No one will ever get over death of loved ones easily
mostly because the "what if"s and "if only"s that follows,
Because the most painful goodbye
is the ones that never got the chance to be said

Strangely, your existence feels familiar
I think I've seen your face somewhere,
or was it your voice that I heard?
or was it your skin that I touched?

Are you sure this is our first meeting?
I'm not quite sure, though, but if it is,
why do I feel like my soul has known you forever?
why do I feel like my heart has been longing for you?

Well, I can't help but wonder,
when your deep brown eyes met mine anxiously
when your tongue spelled my name fluently
do you, by any chance, recognize me too?

Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whenever your heart feel at ease and be at peace
Home is whenever you go to places and in love with the streets
Home is whenever you listen to the music and jam to its rhythm

This two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place that shouldn't be burden off your shoulders
is a place that should you reminisce in joy instead of grief
is a place that should be a sanctuary rather than asylum

Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whose eyes were jet black with a heartbeat
Home is whose smirks feel like summer in winter days
Home is whose touch melts away even the toughest iceberg

"Well", you said, "this two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place where I hear more yelling than laughter
is a place where my dreams died and buried deep
is a place where I used to shamelessly call as home

I was thousand kilometers away from you,
when a stranger bumped into me
he asked me where I was heading off
he asked me if I'm lost by the dead end

I remember answering that nothing to worry,
as I used to go solo and travel alone
'though he offered me help, I refused
it's the kind of kindness I can never repay

Years passed by until it comes to my senses,
how could I ever grasp his helping hand
while your fingerprints are still all over my skin?
while your voice still resonates down to my toes?

Youth was all we ever had, and
no matter how far I've come to walk away
every time I wander it goes directly to you
—I am running in circle