Question: If you look back at your life from this point, what do you see?

Answer: I see the constant struggle of figuring out who I am; the many successful attempts at please people; instant coffees; notebooks I didn't finish; the wish to reach the point where everything is better; the need to run away but can't; waiting, waiting, waiting.

Dear Sir,

Should I go make myself visible--too visible in your eyes? I could pour over my brother's notes and raise my hand to every question you have just to have your eyes at me.

Was that too desperate? Should I play dumb and ask you for extra lessons outside of class? I could stand quiet corner coffee shops, away from prying eyes. I'll even discard the uniform. And you can get to wear that awful tie. That's what they call a "Win-Win Scenario" in Sales, right?

I could strike every corny joke in the block, make pick-up lines, even sing off key to make you see that I'm not such a student-y student.

I could be your friend! I could be your best student. I could be your favorite--I'll try extra harder! I could be your girl. I could be your coffee buddy, your official class manager/monitor, the very person you assign extra notes to be passed on. I'll volunteer on every project you have your hands into---

I want to be yours. In every possible single way. We could hustle and bustle in shadows of people who couldn't understand; I'll get you more weird looking ties for the weekend.  I could type your exams in exchange for extra tutoring; we'll hold each others hands until this winter melts to spring.

Because I swear, when your eyes met mine; when your lips told me "I'll see you again, next time."; I knew I needed you. It's time to make you need me, too.

but then darling,
sometimes the people are
beautiful, too
—just their ability to
comprehend,
believe
and oh! love
until it breaks and shatters them
but still
recover from it
and stand—
they are deeply
fascinating.

Started with the tenth,
Ended with the twenty-fifth.
I am little red
And I’m looking at your pearly teeth.

How did I get so lost in the woods?
How did I get so lost in you?
You already ate half my heart
(Like the bread in my basket)You split it into two.

And I’m bleeding,
Dripping trails of blood,
I wasn't supposed to be here
I wasn't sure how I got.

My mother warned me
About the strangers in the woods:
Keep your eyes on the bread crumbs
Tighten your red, red hood.

The warlock healed me with his magic hands,
The huntsman vowed to avenge me,
The baker fed me with comfort,
The knight struck his shining sword valiantly.

Grandma said, ‘Forget the amber eyes, the deep voice, the untrue.’
‘Your true options stand before you.’
Yet why in the world (in the galaxy, in the stars)
Do I still choose you (who broke my heart)?

how depressing could it be
to live as a bubble
you'd be blown into life in a minute
and be popped to death in a second.

Memory dreams. Multiverse.
Tell me we exist
in a parallel universe.

The cold festive wind blew;
Laughters, hollers of "Merry Christmas!"
Came along with the breeze.
Children, with their little toy drums
Bang, bang, banging away;
Choruses of "Gloria In Excelsis Deo";
Pine trees, Snow flakes, deformed Snowmen;

Houses are lined with
Blink, blink, blinking
Colorful lights and wreaths;
Somwhere among them,
in some living room,
"All I Want For Christmas" is on loop;
Cookies are laid for Santa Claus;
Presents are stacked
Under the Christmas tree--
With garlands and *****
And--

The Christmas lights
In a room in the middle of a second storey house,
Were shining as brightly as they could,
Being wrapped around the neck
Of a teenager misunderstood,
Hanging lifeless on the ceiling
With a note pinned that read,
"Happy Christmas from the dead."

I think you gave me
too many signals
and I just
blinked
right through them.

Fast forward to
a few years later and
you'll suddenly hear
he's getting married.

The emotions you've been
suppressing in
your almost-hollow chest
will all resurface
and you will want
to do something you know
you should've done before.

But you won't do it.
You will cry it out, instead.
He might invite you.
And you will take that
perfect opportunity
to flee.

Just like what you have done
rewind to a few years before
and have been doing
since.

our legs have been decapitated
as soon as we saw each other on the halls
we fret, we tense up, we ignore
without meaning to, without intension.

this wall that had been built
was unplanned, was not meant to
it was built by awkwardness
and shyness that stood
as the hindrance
we never asked for.

shouldn't it be conquered
by the favor of talking?
by the mutualness of our beings?
by the expectations of our souls?

but we are cripples
legs leaving us as we meet
crippled by the longing
of the shared familiarity,
of the proximity we had.

we are cripples,
disabled by the things around us,
by the things we worry about
not moving, fixated on the ground
but wholebeingly hoping, entirely wishing.

"Decorate
Yourself
With
Flowers"--they say;
"It might make you okay."
But the only decoration
I want is your
name
whether
tattooed in vain or
scratched in pain.

You weren't meant to stay longer, my love, my rain. Because if you did, we would have drowned the entire existence with drastic floods.

I.
The first time I tasted alcohol, I thought that it reminded me of you and how it burned my throat and left a firy tang on my tongue that can only be resolved by drinking more.

And by the end of the night, I was drunk enough to be aware of nothing but you.

II.
But on days I crave awakeness, you reminded of me caffeine. Wherein just the mere mention of your name shoots up my nerves; awakes my brain, keeping me alive, tingling and insane.

And by every wake of dawn, I only know that I am craving nothing but you.

III.
Oh but **** it. Be what you want to be. **** my senses, wake it; either way, I know I'll be ******.

Because either way, my love, all I really wanted was to drink you up.

I made a mistake. We are nothing but drizzles.

Blow out the last smoke
Your heel on the cigarette,
Crush it; take a swig
Squeezing lemons on pearly white teeth
One more for brokenness, another for the road;
Lights. Lights. Lights.
–how is a place so blindingly bright
remain so dark, so void, out of life?

We traded this life from another
And traded those from another, too.
Gypsies. Indies. Crazies. Hipsters.
All of them, labels.
We (You) are far better.

There’s something ugly in whispers.
Oh but not those from you.
Not from you.
The line between escape and reality
Is just a line, really.
Come over. Here?
Come closer. There?
Yes, please.

We are nothing but fitting hands, loose shirts,
summer evening sweats, blisters
chain smokes, vivid lights,
My eyes never leaving the sight of your smile.

Come closer. More. Nearer.
Be in my blood. Cover my skin.
Run through the inhale and exhale of my lungs.
This never ending thing going?
God****, it’s enough.

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
hang it on the ceiling
and then kick off the chair

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
and I will fall off limply
and then I will be dead

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
and then I will not suffer
your unrequited love again

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
I hope you will not scream
as blood oozed down my head

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
don't cry-oh no! don't.
just know it's all your fault

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
I will be forever dead
leaving you eternally haunted.

Cut my veins open:
Go on, Bleed me dry.
I want you out—
I want you out of veins tonight.

I am going to drain
you out of my system
which hasn’t been functioning for
so long, too long.

You no longer keep me alive.

You are poison and
you are going to get my
heart clogged; my
brain dead;

I am going to burst
I am going to die
I am going to get you out
of my life tonight.

yes,

I would gladly
give away my life
                         for someone who wants to have extra years;
                         for someone who wants another chance;
                         for someone so afraid to die.

I would gladly
swap my life
                with the dying old man depending on a tank;
                with the hopeful little child suffering so young;
                with the hopeless yet struggling victims of life.

I would gladly
share my extra breath
                          to the guy about to drown;
                          to the girl with mets on lungs;
                          to the people suffocating under their heavy rock.

because

they all seem to need it
                           more than I'll ever do.
they all seem worth it
                           more than I'll ever be.
they all seem to want it
                           more than I ever will.

because

I could be
nothing, nothing, nothing
so tiny, so insignificant
so unworthy, so void.

and they could be
something, something, something
so large, so significant
so worthy, so full.

so who am I
to sit here and be useless,
burying all this from happening
when I don't even do anything?
                               I might as well
give my life away to them,
see them live and do everything
they have been wanting to do
but haven't had a chance to.

Time is falling dead
and everyone has flies
for an attention span;
the need to get out
throbs painfully
in every still-breathing chest
and
get out of there, will you?
Go.
Run.
Flee.

Talk to your heart
and ask it where it wants to go.
If it tells you to go to him,
don't.
Stall.
Stall long enough for
your heart to ache.
Then go.

Grab him by the pulse
and run.
If he hesitates,
let go.
If he asks you where
you're going,
say, the stars.
Say, the planets.
Say, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

Hope with all your heart
that he changes his mind
and grabs you, instead
and takes you there
himself.

You've been picking
even-numbered petals
from flowers all these time
because you thought
the odds won't be against you.

When nature shows you a sign,
it is most likely to be
a. True b. False
Whatever it is,
Do not pretend you're blind.
Take another look.
Read between the lines.

A dozen wildflowers
is still an even number.
He only means to tell you:
this won't last forever.

Decayed and dead after a week.
Cryptic love is cryptic.
Like is not love, haven't you heard?
Haven't you looked at the flowers?

When the sun has set
and your eyes are tired,
the empty space in your chest,
in your mind, in your bed.
Hollow that was once filled,
his love was beguiled.

Phone beeping, scrambling hand
Click. Says 'Hello?'
'Hey, it's me.'
Head meeting the bed dashboard ‘Ow—‘
You ask if I'm okay. I winced, No
But quickly amended, 'What's up?'
You laugh and you tell me that you're
Standing in the cold, outside my house.
I panic.
‘Yeah. I don’t know why. Can you possibly come out?’
I wanted to tell you that you had me at Hey
But I wouldn’t want to scare you away and so,
‘I’ll be down in a second,’ I scramble out of bed,
Out of the room, down the stairs—as fast as I can to
Fulfil the second I promised.
(Also, because I wanted to see your face at once)
The doors creaks open; I step out into the cold
‘Hi.’
I breathed.
‘Hey.’
You breathed.
The obvious question unasked was asked.
At 2 am in the morning, you tell me:
‘Let’s drive.’
What, Why, Where, When, How—?
You must’ve sensed the 20 Qs about to spill
From my wild, raging mind because
‘Come on. Hop in. No questions.’
But
‘I want a late night, okay, morning adventure.
We’ll be back at six, I promise.’
‘Why?’
More like, Why me?
Because I just want to know, really.
The question was thrown over the bridge
As you opened the door of the car
For me
I told you that this better be good
But then I know that it would be
Because I’m going to be
With you.
Car door closing, engine starting.
Our late night adventure beginning.

I am no longer the
Steady thrum of heartbeats
When issues against women are
Comically displayed on televisions.
Like there's something to
Laugh, guffaw, snicker, snort--
Tell you what, I can name a little
Too many synonymous words
And I can slap them all to your face, too.

I am no longer a suppressed voice,
Unable to tell you and all the other people
That as a girl (and a woman, later),
I have the right to be here.
I have the same rights to life,
To be alive, to be secure,
To have a good life!
And yet, you, who calls yourself a
Man of power, tells me,
"You are nothing."

I am angry with the absurdity
Of it all. Men continuing to abuse,
Women constantly cowering down--
Why are you so intent on showing power
When you are not God?
Why are you so afraid of fighting
For yourself?

I am seething with rage
For those who refuse to accept
Feminism just for the reason
That they do not want to be labeled--
Well, guess what? They have already
Shoved you underneath Weak and Submissive.
Who taught you that you are born
To impress men?
Who taught you that you only exist
To please them?

I will not have any of that ****.
I am a person of my own.
I am a human being, with rights.
And I AM FIGHTING to have
The same rights as you do.
Whoever told you that that's
Never gonna happen, can shove it up
Their *****.

I will not sit still on my chair while
The next police officer
Asks "Well, what were you wearing?"
To the next **** victim.
You and I both know that is not
The issue here.
No girl should hung their head in shame
That they got touched without consent.
It's not their fault! No one
Deserves to be *****.
And no, it's not snuggling, for you who
Even thought **** jokes on t-shirts
Are funny. It's not.

I am for Gender Equality.
For both men and women,
Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender,
To be treated with equal respect.
With equal opportunities.
With equality.
With no judgment.
Why must you counter that?

Look, I've been sitting in that same chair
For too long while issues spread and get
Larger like the plague.
I thought, let them handle it.
I thought, a small voice would be of no help.
But when did sitting down and staring
Get people somewhere?
When did any of passivity help us?

We already have everything to lose
So why not fight?
Bruce Banner told the other avengers
The secret of Hulk.
And I tell you the same:
Get angry.
Smash inequality.
I will always be right behind you.

the clanging when the gates open
as the dogs bark, shut the gate only to hear rusty
metal screech rusty metal, i think
i am home

gravel crunch under my shoes, crunch, crunch
to open the screenless screen door, push
aside the heavy sliding second door, i think
i am home

walk into the canary room with its rich
maroon-tiled floor, turn right for the stairs, leave your
shoes before you go 10 steps up, i think
i am home

another door is wide open, smell the waft of dog-shampoo,
dog burst through, get slapped on the shins with its heavy wagging
tail and invites you the the dark green couch, i think
i am home

walk on the wooden floor as the bookshelves rattle
when i pass by, rattle, rattle, leave my bag on the chair, reach the fridge,
look for food and sit on the polished yellow table, i think
i am home

the last room and its rich dark brown door, with its
antique bed: lay down, contemplate, count the squares above it--48
blink, open another door to the balcony, graze the cold cement, i think
i am home

look into the backyard with patches of dead grass, inhale oxygen,
exhale sadness, go back inside and smile, finally, i think
i am home

as i smell that unique scent of mom in the bathroom, see the table
dad made from ply woods, sort my sister's things, smile at my brother's grad picture,
sit with the dog on the couch, scratch its ears, i know
i am home

midnight strikes, detach from the computer, rub tired eyes, brush my
teeth on the blue-tiled sink, reach the orange door quietly, take one last glance on
the mirror and enter the capiz faux-door of the bedroom we all share, hear
all of your soft snores and shufflings under the blanket,
collapse on the bed, this is it.
i am home.

When I think of the ocean,
I think of the word "drown".
When I hear the word plane,
I see "crash".
When I'm on rooftops,
I feel, "fall".
When I see sharp things,
I hear, "stab".

Birds might peck me.
Cars might hit me down the road.
Metals can conduct electricity.
Words can betray people.
Actions will ****.

Dark corners reminded me
Of shadows and demons
That I keep;
My closet holds more
Skeletons than I could count;
I can't help thinking
We are going to end.
So when you keep saying you love me,
All I'm really hearing was "destroy".

my love for you is an idea
brought forth by a collage of ideas
pinned on a bulletin board
built with long, late hours at night,
in a tiny chatbox of mutualness
vibrating hope in every ping!

those ideas of starry escapades,
pizzerias,
ice creams and waffle cones,
and coffee when it gets sleepy
the very idea of you
just kept me wide awake

but that bulletin board
of fragile hopes and dreams
broke! it's post-it notes fell
freely. lightweight paper scattered
on the floor getting stepped
by the feet of reality

the hot-air balloon of idea
landed finally on the ground
unsafe, breaking
because it shouldn't have left
it shouldn't have been ignited
it shouldn't have flew

all of you I've loved
is an idea
I built so bitterly
for you made no move
and I made no step--
a tragic idea, indeed.

‘Can I launch the 20 Qs now?’
You laugh and you tell me that you love it
That I make you laugh and you add ‘Yes. Fire away.’
I wanted to keep you laughing,
To keep you happy
Now that I discovered a bit of Why me?
‘Are you on ****?’
You laughed. Harder, this time.
And I noticed that it’s because I love
Seeing you laugh—that head thrown back,
Loud laughter spilling from your mouth—
That it’s enough for me to want to
Keep you happy.
‘Maybe,’ you grin.
I stiffen, indignant. ‘You could get us killed, lunatic!’
(But then, if you do,
At least I’ll die with you)
‘Well, I wouldn’t blame that on the ****, love.
I’ll blame your PJs for that, so distracting.’
Playful slaps on the arm,
Half-feeling sorry for myself and my
Finn and Jake pyjamas
Playful pouts and rubs on the arm.
‘So where are we going?’
You tell me that you haven’t figured that out yet
And that if I had something in mind, you’d be open
‘My mind is wandering off to the land of milkshakes.’
‘My mind would love to wander off to the land of milkshakes with your mind.’
I laugh and tell you that that reminds me of Cummings
And together, we chorus
‘I like my body when it is with your body.’
Until we reached the diner with a CLOSED sign hanging
‘Should we grab a crow bar and break in?’
Your laugh vibrated through the cold, silent air
Before grabbing my wrist and pulling me back to the car.
(I had suppressed the thought:
Please don’t let go ever.
To the dark depths of my mind)
‘How about 24-hour pizza?’
‘Had me at pizza.’ I grin.
‘I know.’
And I know, too.
I fell for you.

‘Milkshakes remind of that movie.’
I took a sip of chocolate milk
And nodded
‘The street poet part?’
‘Sweet cakes and milkshakes,
I’m a delusion angel’
‘I’m a fantasy parade,
I want you to know what I think,’
‘Don’t want you to guess anymore’
I swallowed.
I don’t think that I’m ready to tell you
So I stall. ‘Swap?’
Tall milkshakes glasses slide over the table,
Across from each other, straws plunging in
I took a sip of vanilla and you took more
Than a gulp of chocolate
And I wanted to think that
You might like chocolate more
Than I like vanilla
But then maybe not.
Because what I feel feels
Much more larger than you
But just the thought of
You liking me too
Has probably woke every single sleeping neuron
In me.
The waiter sighs, thick-crust pepperoni slides over
You offer him a slice,
I offer him an apologizing smile
He shrugs, taking both.
And we take our first bite
Simultaneously
Pepperoni, mushrooms, bell pepper, cheese, sauce
Hitting our taste buds at the same time
And we chew in content together.
I would never want to miss
A single detail tonight
And I wouldn’t want even this
Tiny feeling exploding in me
Right now to be forgotten
‘I think this pizza deserves a poem.’
‘I’ll grab those napkins and ask for a pen.’*
And we wrote our undying love
as one.

I love how quickly we just fell into place
like nothing happened,
like a year of nothing, a year of void space
didn't get in between.

I love how natural we can be
after that long miserable gap
and how I know I should feel
a little pretense--a tiny fakeness
but there was none of it.

I love how easy we fall into step
like we've been swaying to the same song
a thousand of times
in our shared separate universe
with each other--like we never even left.

I love our alternate universe
and how it still existed
waiting for us,
knowing that we would fall
like missing puzzle pieces
and it did fell in the right places,
making it seem whole.

and I love how the continuity
of what we had and now have
felt infinite and somehow real
and promising and that the idea imprinted on
a beyondness in the future.

but I do not love
how I could not forget
how I was left expecting
--no, assuming of what could've happened
on the miserable gap
because I am afraid that it would've changed
every. little. thing.

I do not love
how a simple little thing
stood between us like a wall
that got thicker and thicker,
piled with red hard bricks
and along the linings of our hearts,
a tinge of uncertainty had ensued.

alas I do not love
how quickly you bounced back in my life
thinking you could just walk into that wall
without even asking, without trying hard
you crossed that wall that easy
like snapping your fingers
or clapping your hands.

I do not love
how you chose now instead of then,
instead of yesterday,
or the day before that,
or the month before that day
or the next day when you decided to disappear.

and I do not love
how quickly I let you in
how I decided that i should still hold on
how I responded, shaking off the hesitation,
brushing off the doubts,
letting you fill me again
with that light only you radiate.

I'm in love with you.






(And that's why I am trying to come up with 101 ways
to **** you and make you suffer over and over again
through poetry.)

We are lost souls.
Finding comfort with the common ground
Of being lost
Would we find our way back?
Would we even find the right way?
Or have we already found it
When our lost souls collided?
Are we still lost
Now that we found each other?
‘You just love that word, don’t you?’
‘What word?’ I ask as I pulled the pen up
From your skin
But my hand lingers
You smile. *‘Lost. You like the idea of lost.’
I also like the idea of you
Sitting thisclose to me as I
Scribble on your skin
But ‘It looks appealing.’ I shrug
‘Not having any idea where you’re heading to is appealing?’
I explain that being lost
Is not always worrying about
Having no sense where you’re going,
It’s also letting go to see
What could be path could be lying
Ahead of you and thinking
Whether you’ll go or stay or
Look for another way
‘Like the road not taken?’
‘Or somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond.’
You grabbed the pen from me
And held my hand in place
My heart tries its best not to burst.
It’s not our souls that are lost
But our fragments, it scattered
Throughout places and our souls—
Our souls are bound to find it
So if my missing piece
Falls in you and yours in me,
We are bound to collide,
Bound to see and realize that we
Are not as lost as we ought to be.
Oh but I am still lost, I thought,
Lost in you.

‘I figured out the hamartia,’
I tell you breathlessly.
You were still clutching
Your shirt for breath
(And your cheeks are pink
From the cold)
‘My heart is thumping like crazy,’
‘I know. Mine is, too.’ I grin, for you.
‘That was one hell of a ride’ you wheeze
‘I should puke but I won’t,’
I laugh at the incredulousness
Of your little anxieties
And how you strain them in.
I patted your back as
We took a seat on a bench
And you took your breath
‘You okay?’
You nod. ‘You were saying
About the hamartia?’
I love that you keep
Track of what I’m saying
Even if we wander far away.
‘Right. It’s cotton candy.’
You laugh. ‘Really now?’
‘Sugar just sometimes solves it all,’
You pinched my cheeks
And pulled on it
Playfully
‘Sugar ******’ you teased,
I think you just
Caught me off guard
And I think that
I like it.
‘But tell you what, I know something
Better than stuffing sugar,’
You always seem to be so
Enthusiastic, don’t you?
‘Surprise me,’
I say because
This time
I wouldn’t want
To anticipate.

though blurry
I see you clearly
under lidded eyes
is that such a surprise?

and your eyes half-closed
you lashes grows;
inch closer
i see further and further

------i am drowning
but why is that a good thing?
i still see you with my eyes closed

                       (**** the distance!
                        **** the cold!
                        no to resistance!
                        just be bold!)

oh dear, I am overdosed.

I wanted to move on, too.
We both have been there, haven't we?
Got out hearts dropped, stomped on.
I know we're both afraid but
You know I know you see it, too.
Go on, don't be scared.
You get the gasoline,
I'll grab the matches.
Start the fire and
"All you there!
See us burn."

I'm not trying to romanticize something that is not there. The truth is, I don't even remember half of the conversations we had. I don't recall the feeling that came along when I'm talking to you. Was I happy? Was I sad? Did I even feel something? But then there's this space thudding in my chest, forming in my gut and it says that I miss you. I don't know why. I don't know how. I just do. It just seems like the missing puzzle piece in me is screaming. And it's screaming you.

we wander freely
like negative charges of a magnet
looking for the positives
to fill the void,
the empty space left hanging

but contrary,
(contrary is what we're always good at)
contrary to the beliefs, to life,
and even to physics itself,
we're the only ones who could fill the void,
the space with so many possibilities left hanging

we're a magnet made to be wrong
the negatives on either side of the pole
attracting no other poles,
no other charges as we realized
there could be no one
but us.

I have always wondered
about how people in love
folded themselves
upon each other
that  it doesn't feel difficult
for them
nor suggest difficulty
to other people's eyes
until now
when you placed
your chin upon
my shoulder with ease;
now
when you hugged me
from behind,
your warmth radiating over
my body and reaching
my cold, cold heart;
now
when you started
whispering
over and over words
that used to
not mean anything to me;
I know now
how everything seems--
sees, hears, smells, tastes and feels--
easy and God, just wonderful
to  have someone
to fold yourself
upon.

It seems that our love is like the rain. It will pour hard, unleashing all the contained energy. Then it will pour harder, letting it all go, consuming our very being. And eventually, it will stop. Leaving nothing but the aftermath of us which will dry soon enough. Looking like nothing even happened.

I will
Still remember you
As the rain
My eyes, my heart, my brain
Poured out.
(Leaving me empty
And dry.)

and all i want is
just a quarter of time,
       a quarter of feelings,
       a quarter of smile.

       a quarter of recognition
from your deep blue eyes;
       a quarter of look
that says 'hey you. be mine.'

       a quarter of space
in your beautiful heart;
       a quarter of second
in your passing thought.

i don't ask for a lot because
i know you can't give all you got.
so really, i'm okay with a quarter
i'm sure it's better than never.

"I'm not the one who needs saving!"
--in many ways
you
are
right.
Because
I am
the
one
who
needs
to
be
saved.

I have no idea why
I always feel like
I'm struggling--
to do something,
to feel something,
to achieve something
when all I wanted
to do,
to feel and
to achieve
is
breathe.

I see lighter skin under your short sleeves; and your cut off jeans, fraying at the seams.

There's a trail of sweat from your temple to your neck; but your eyes dance without regrets.

It was all sun, sun, sun and rain. It was all dance, dance, dance and no pain.

Time is with us. No, time is us. We are never ending. We are infinitely flying;

You are holding my hand; you are pulling me, and

We are falling apart, but with all of our hearts.

Ever since you told me that you think of me every time it rains,
I've been smiling like an idiot and staring into space.

I've never seen anyone as in love with the rain as I am
and my parents have never seen me smile the way that I am
smiling right now.

Oh but what kind of rain could we be?
Light as drizzles?
Heavy as hurricanes?
Sizzling as thunderstorms?
Dangerous as typhoons?

Are we
the continuous rain of an August night?
The melted snow of Winter transitioning
into Spring?

I know! We are the first Summer rain. Cool and refreshing.
The rain that makes you rush out of the house and into the grey, grey skies.
The rain you've been wishing for after a long warm night.
The rain that you want to stay under until it dries.
The rain you want to savor for the rest of your life.

Stay a little longer, will you?

this time,
I have one goal in mind:
to see the sunrise.
I have waited, waited, waited
for hours in the dark
and I just wanted
to see the sun
rise out from it
slowly,
within transitions of
vanilla dawn--
a swirly mass of blues, whites,
purples, pinks, oranges and yellows.
my test of faith came
at four a.m
that clever hour of
coolness, tricking the body
to curl up and
sleep.
but thank God
I resisted
(although I admit, I closed my
eyes for a minute)!
so the yellows and oranges
slowly burst through
the mass of lonely
black and blue
and I'm overwhelmed by the
questions of day from
'when do the lamp post lights
turn off?'
to
'am I as ready as I prepared myself to?'
then I figured that
sunrises are as
lonely as
sunsets because
the world does not change
overnight.
but it was still changing (or maybe
it just feels like it)
to see the sunrise,
to catch the faux hope
that comes with its light.

If I would have
to write your name
a thousand times,
I would.

My hands would
tire and cramp---
but it would be
a pleasant cramp. A
pleasant
tiresomeness.

For your name is pleasant
and it would be
too much
of a
pleasure
to write it
a thousand times.

I still love the rain. (Just as I still know I loved you.)

I had a dream about you last night. You sent me an e-mail about not caring about anything anymore. But me. You told me that you know that saying you love me is cliche' but you said you love me, anyway.

You have no idea how that e-mail made me happy. I remembered hugging my laptop from the dream. I read your e-mail until I knew it by heart but even in my subconscious dream I know it won't be enough.

So can you imagine the frustration and sadness and patheticness I felt when I woke up?

I should never wake up, again.

l = df + [(s × p + t) / ( h + d + g )] + (a + u + o)*
                                                                        where*,
df = defining moment, the addend of great impact
s = sadness, a constant, never leaving, never changing
p = pain, the demanding factor, the intensifying emotion
t = struggles, the sum of undergoings, of trials and errors
h = happiness, a variable, unknown, changing, conflicting
d = dreams, an addend of the subconscious, hopeful but not certain
g = goals, a variable of direction, a hopeful assurance of the future
a = achievements, the addend of success, a mark of triumph
u = attitudes, a wholesome factor, an important measure
o = thoughts, the shaping addend, the root of transforming, contracting, making

In my Anatomy class, they said, "The lips has the most nerve endings.";
That should explain how brutal my feelings were under that flickering lamp post.

At 6:45 am, right before my first class, I spot the Cappuccino in can at a convenience store;
I always buy this simply because you first bought this for me.

At the bus, I find seats right by the window;
I tie my hair and miss the way you would tie it for me.

The new Coldplay song plays, "And you're always in my, always in my head...";
It has been on repeat for the whole night.

A guy in denim and messy hair walks by twice, thrice;
By the fourth time, he has your face.

And in a desk, I found your name faintly carved;
I retraced it heavily. Over and over again.