because when i hear this particular song you had told me about once, i still think of you. because i still check your blog even if i know you haven't updated it in two years. because i wait out for you to go online in facebook at our time and i wait until 3 am just to make sure. because i saw you sitting in 7eleven once and now i crane my neck to look at 7eleven just to check if you're there. because i still write your initials and scratch them heavily. because when i hear a song you'd like, i write it down and compile it to a mix. because when i drink coffee, it makes me think of you. because i bought these kiddie pirate tattoos and posted a picture of it to see if you'll like it. because every post i make wishes to get a like from you. because i want to go to where you are even if it's a five-hour bus ride away just to take a glimpse of your face. because i read the books you read. because i'm running out of reasons here. *i'm still in love with you. and that's mainly the reason why.

tears are
heaving down on
us, a
never-ending
depression that the
earth experiences; a
rapid
sorrow
that eats up and lets
out a shattering
remorse filled with deep
m**alevolence

We are not the ******* first summer rain, anymore. When heated water vapor condenses and unstable airs break through, we are now as dangerous as thunderstorms, cracking and flashing and desperately wanting to burn the whole sky down.

Sitting on the empty stair steps,
Pouring over a thousand of terminologies
In highlighted photocopies of this thick,
Hi.

I know how quiet it is there,
Away from the buzzing sounds
Of the other students in the room.
I know how you have to
Focus, focus, focus
So you chose the spot,
[Maybe absentmindedly? Maybe not?
(Sometimes I wanted to walk straight to you and ask)]
Trying to rack your brains
On what you crammed into it last night.
I know you.
That’s what I’m trying to say.

I know you, not fully, not totally, never enough
And maybe that’s a shame
Or maybe that’s okay
But I see you
More often than not
(It’s not destiny nor fate—just timing and space.)
And I see myself, somehow,
In you that when I pass by, whether up the stairs
Or down,
I can’t help but throw
One last glance,
One last look.
It’s a vague mirror.

I’ve seen the smiles you gave people:
The polite-hello smile,
The you’re-my-friend smile,
The I-know-you-but-I’m-not-sure smile (etc.).
I’ve seen how you walk over the cold tiled floor
Like you can take the world,
Although more humbly and
Without much cruelty.

I’ve seen the happiness in your smile
When people throw you
The look of recognition:
They know you.
You’re the smart one.
You’re the scholar.
You’re the overachiever.
You’re the nice, all-around guy.
You’re  basically, the best.

But I’ve also seen
The split-second of the tiresome day
Weighing down on your eyes.
I’ve seen you stare off space,
Looking like you wanted to run away.
I’ve seen the pressure on your
Blank face for only a second, a minute
That your mask gave away.

I want to tell you something.
I want to tell you the things I can’t tell myself.
I want to tell you the things I wanted to hear
When things spin too fast out of my hand.
I want to tell you, I know.
I want to tell you that sometimes,
It gets low.

And when it gets low
(Because it will get low and I know and I’m sorry),
Hold on, okay?

HOLD ON.

I know you don’t know me
Just as I don’t know you fully
But promise me something, okay?
Promise me, a nameless person,
Speaking to you through a
Typed message on paper,
That you’ll hold on through
The current that’s passing too strong, too fast.
That you’ll move on forward
When it gets haywire and foggy and weird.

Because
I see myself in you,
(Although somewhat lesser)
But unlike me, I know
One day,
You are going to be great.

So hold on,
Move on,
Go straight through
Because if you’ve reached the
Lowest point in your life
And no one puts their faith on you,
Forget them.

Forget them because
This nameless person right here
Knows the truth.

I believe in you
And I hope
You’ll believe in me, too.

you are like
this
bitter medicine tablet
that I keep
trying to
swallow
but keeps
coming
back up.

‘Let’s do a Sam, Patrick and Charlie,’
(Do I even have to tell you that
I’m always in-yes with you?)
‘What’s our tunnel song?’
Click. Radio music filling the car.
You tell me over the music that
You don’t want a tunnel song
Because
Why have one song when we
Can have a playlist of it?
Our tunnel playlist starts with:
                                                         01. young blood—the naked and the famous: you’ll keep my secrets
                                                        ­                          hope to die/promise and swear it to the sky.
                                                         02. love somebody—maroon 5: and if I fall for you/ I’ll never recover
                                                         03. lego house—ed sheeran: and I’ll surrender up my heart /
                                                                ­                          and swap it for yours
                                                         04. animal—neon trees: what are you waiting for? / take a bite of my
                                                                ­                           heart tonight
                                                         05. yellow—coldplay: do you know? / you know I love you so
                                                         06. i need you now—lady antebellum: and I wonder if I ever cross  
                                                         ­                                  your mind / for me it happens all the time
                                                         07. lightning—the wanted: how many times do I fly through your
                                                                ­                  headspace / now it’s speeding away from a safe place
I don’t even like half of the songs
The radio played but it was
Perplexing how I find a
Line or two of it
To keep track of
My feelings.
‘Do you see it?’* You gesture at the road.
I recalled that bit of Charlie’s letter.
Omitted bits of it and filled it with some
As lightning—the wanted starts to fade
And another song plays,
‘I like this song,’ I tell you
‘I like it, too.’
and if you only die once/
i wanna die with you
‘Let’***** the notes,’
—fingers drumming on the wheel
I finger snap occasionally.
When the song ended, we have
The same answer for the same question:
‘Do you feel infinite?’

‘It’s four-thirty,’ I say
And I think we both sensed
The dreaded end is nigh
‘It’s four-thirty-one,’you point out
‘Would it be weird to admit that—‘
I stopped. I wanted to admit
A lot of things without sounding weird
‘You don’t want this night to end?
No. Because me, neither.’
I took the chance to glance at you
And smile.
You took the chance to glance off the road
And smile.
‘So where to, next?’
You gave me a knowing grin.
‘You’ll see.’
I puffed out a breath.
‘Come on, wouldn’t you like to be surprised?’
‘I’d rather anticipate.’
‘Oh but where’s the fun in that?’
I just grinned. Because
I want to believe
That you’re right
And I want to believe
That you actually did
Plan something
For me tonight.
‘Eye spy?’ I offered.
You tell me that you spy
Something with light—
Lamppost.
You tell me that you spy
Something that goes on—
Road.
As you go on—
Tree, dashboard, yellow lines, my PJs;
I laugh as I secretly spy on
How the light hits your eyes
As you drive.
(I wonder if you
Could even guess how
Beautiful it is.)

Eyes blinking, jaw dropping.
I wouldn’t believe it.
‘It’s open,’ I had observed dumbly.
‘It is,’ you agree, grinning at me.
Eyebrows furrowing, mouth opening
‘How the hell is that possible?’
My mind ran into maybe a hundred
Answers for you but
‘It just is.’ You shrugged
Like this was the most common thing
In the world
Like a Carnival is always open
At about five a.m.
But that’s not really what
Bothers me—it’s how the hell
You could have known
That there’s a large space
For Carnivals
In my heart.
‘So.’ You say. I sense a tinge of
Nervousness in your voice.
For the first time in this night
I turned to look at you
And swallow you and just you in.
(It wasn’t enough.)
I still don’t know what to say:
Because “thank you” doesn’t
Seem enough
And if I don’t say anything,
I’m afraid you might mistake it
For something else
I cannot even fathom.
So I just held out my hand,
Hoping that this time
You’ll take it—
Take it and
Don’t.
Let.
It.
Go.

You wrinkle your nose, No
I laughed. ‘Why?’
‘It’s silly.’
‘Sillier than driving
In the middle of the night
To my house and
Pulling me away
To eat pizza and
Drink milkshakes and
Write poetry in our arms
And sing and scream
And driving into a
Miraculously open
Carnival?’
You rolled your eyes
‘I’d rather do a Holden Caulfield on you,’
Would that mean that
To you
I’m just...Phoebe?
I shot you a sceptical look
And told you that
One ride at a carousel
Won’t taint your
Masculinity.
I sure as hell hoped
That I convinced you because
I don’t want you to be Holden
If I’m just Phoebe,
I’d rather be Jane Gallagher even
If there wasn’t a scene in the book
Written for us.
I know that if I could be Jane,
We could write
Our own **** story
And our story would
Be better.
So please, please, please
Say yes
To going to the carrousel
With me
And we could start writing
Our story as Jane
And Holden.

I just wonder
that when
the
'up'
in wake
is taken away

we might as well
be
some body
locked inside
a coffin--

a
ceremony
held
for our

death.

I have no idea
what's worse:

to wake up
to
everyone
leaving,

to wake up
alone
or

to even
wake up
at
all.

What stands between us is time.
Schedules, plans, events--
Every second, every minute, every hour
We are travelling apart.
I think of you when my time is
No longer occupied
But isn't it that I'm supposed to
Think of you all the time?

What stands between us is distance.
You are a hundred miles above sea level
And I am already drowning below.
By time you jump off the sea to save me,
(Will you? Will you?)
The ocean has already wrapped its arms
Around me and yet they say,
Distance does not matter.

What stands between us is fear.
I say to the mirror,
I love you.
I say to the mirror,
But I'm afraid we're not working out.

What stands between us is them.
A girl smiles, a guy winks.
That lab partner has accidentally
Brushed your arm,
And he held my stare for too long.
"You know he'll eventually find someone there, right?"
"You know someone will eventually whisk her away, right?"
Eventually. Like we cannot do anything about it.
(We can, though.)

What stands between us is us.
You grin back, I blushed.
Our world was filled with only two pairs of eyes.
Our separate worlds is now invaded with too many.
That hole in our gut that says 'I miss you.'
Has been ignored too often
We mistake it for stress.
We mistake it for something else.
We mistake.

(We can do something
But the thing here is
We probably won't.)

I took a long glance
At the stars above
The sky as
You drive away.
It was a quarter to six
In the morning and
Our night is
Nearing its end.
This time, we
Drove with a
Blanket of silence
Thrown upon us—
It wasn’t eerie nor
Awkward, it was
The kind of silence that suits
Driving away at 5:49 a.m. to
Goodness-knows-where,
Comfortable and easy
And cool as the cold wind of
The almost-morning dew that
Seeps through the
Half-rolled down window.
I feel like I
Could get used to these
Kinds of moments with you,
Not getting bothered
Of the silence
That ensues between us.
We could be together
With ease
Through laughter
And silence, especially
Because it has always been silence
That is harder to
Bear.
And...
It has always been this way,
Hasn’t it?
It had always
Been this easy
And comforting
To be
With you.

‘Sunrise.’* You breathe out
As the sky swirls
Its majestic colors
Of blue, orange, yellow, pink
‘It’s always lovely isn’t it?’
‘It’s one of the lovely
And lonely things,’ I sigh.
I’m sorry that
I just can’t help
Myself sometimes
On seeing the sad in
Beautiful, beautiful things.
I know you said
That it’s because I’m doubtful
But then, no.
Some things are just that.
Flawed.
We just fail to see
Past its beautiful exterior.
‘What could be possibly lonely
About the sunrise?’
You inquire (and
I love that you would want to
Hear some explanation I have).
‘Hope,’ I called out
‘Doesn’t it symbolize hope?
Doesn’t it sprays out the message
Of a new beginning?
As if you can undo all the
Wrong things—but you can’t.
Hope breeds eternal misery,
Doesn’t it? It’s effing lonely.’
It could be weird but I certainly don’t
See the sunrise as billions of eyes see it.
I had expected you
To give me a look and tell
Me to stop seeing the sadder side,
Goodness knows that what everyone does—
‘Here,’ You reached out your hand
I gave you a strangle look
‘Take it,’ your amused voice floats
‘So we could walk together and
Look like sad gits together and
Ponder on what makes sad things sad.’
But by then I am in no way
Sad, I could the happiest
Person alive.

So we were back
To laughing as we
Drove home.
Home. I remember something
I read, “Is it possible for home
To be a person and not a place?”
It hadn’t meant much back then
But as you tell me
The truth about
How you’re actually cousins with
The one who owns the Carnival;
How you think that this
Is just the best five hours
Of your life;
How we should do this
Next time or every time,
Every day or every night;
I wanted you
To be my home
Because I have
Never felt at home in my
Entire life than
When I’m with
You.

‘This night/morning doesn’t have to end,’
Car door opening, car door closing
‘Unless we want it to,’
‘Do you want it to?’
Blinking eyes, bitten lips
*‘No. No, in every possible way.’

‘So stay.’ I am really
Trying not to spill down
Water from my eyes
If you decline.
‘Stay and we’ll talk.
Stay and we’ll eat Cheerio’s
And Fruit Loops with or
Without milk—just stay.’
‘Are you trying to convince me?’
‘Are you convinced?’
‘You don’t have to. I’m always
In-yes with you.’
Front porch wood creaking.
Door closing.
Front porch light switching off.

It
Might seem like
This could be
An end
To the greatest adventure
Of my life
But every good
Thing knows
It’s actually
The beginning.

you come
and
you go
and
you come
and
you go
and
you come
and
I'm sorry,
but who are you
again?