i’m afraid
that at the end of the day
i would still wait for your silhouette
as i eat my comfort food more and more
until they no longer taste sweet
and maybe you’re right,
that’s why you called me crazy
because you knew
i can do things nobody could have ever guessed
that i could come to you as much as how many times you would push me away;
that i’m willing to dry my eyes out hundred more times than the times you made me smile;
that i can run after you until my legs stop working;
and you could pierce my heart
even when there’s nothing to bleed with
—yes, that’s how twisted
and crazy i could be for you

i haven’t even started writing
but i couldn’t think of anything i did wrong
was it when i liked you first?
or was it because you’re a great pretender?
but now that i’m thinking back again,
maybe it’s me and my low standards to blame

you shouldn’t have told me
that i’m important to you in the first place
maybe those words were nothing to you
but you had me hoping for the best,
worst is how you knew it very well
how fragile and soft-hearted i am
that you could break me anytime
and fix me when you decided to

it’s happening again,
sick and crying
is it too much
to always want to be wanted?

it has always been like this
i wish i could like someone
who liked me first
then i don’t have to force myself
into their lives.

i was never fond of hugs
even when i was crying my heart out,
even when i needed comfort,
i never asked for one,
for i never wanted somebody’s warmth

but i keep reminiscing that night
when you hugged me so tight
—it was my first time
feeling someone else’s heart
and everything felt so right
that now, i keep wanting to do that
again and again, and again,
i loved being held in your arms
for it was so gentle and warm

and if it’s you, i won’t mind
doing it millions of times

today, i wore my perfume
in case you’d come,
in case you’d hug me
and tuck your head on my neck,
kiss me on my forehead
so i won’t have regrets
—but you never came
i hoped, what a shame.

it was our very first meeting
but i already imagined,
how we’ll be cuddling
in years we won’t be counting