It was
becoming pathetic...
The way
her eyes
would chase
him all the time,
the way she
hides a small
smile
when he
catches her eyes...

It was becoming
more and
more pitiful,
the way
she does
these random
things
for him...
and him without
the knowledge
of her
actions...

It was utterly
sad, and miserable,
when she watches
him smile
for someone else,
when she sees
him happy
with someone else,
when he broke
her heart
and still loves
him anyway.
It was sort
of a disgusting
display of raw
emotion
that it makes
me nauseous...

It was
sickeningly
familiar,
how she
had laid herself
for him,
and end up
broken, unnoticed.
It was like
looking at
my own reflection
in a broken mirror...
It was
like seeing
myself
stealing
glances
at her
beautiful
smile, unnoticed.

To write
without hurting
myself
with the
very
thoughts
I want to
remember
forever...

To write
in order to
forget,
hoping that
the words
will ****** away
the memories
from me,
and I'd be a
new page again...

To see you
from afar
without
flinching at
my own
treacherous
heart's
weeping...

To smile
at the
smallest
things, menial
random pieces,
without
seeing
a ghost
of your
person....

To move forward
without
the shackles
you put
without
thoughts,
the heaviness
of your love,
of our past,
and our
seemingly
hopeless future.

To see your face
without remorse,
and smile
without
regrets and
say
'Hi'
to you
without
asking
another
'what-if'...

To
stay with
you
and still love
myself.

*because we both know that it's not just about love anymore

Ink blots,
Words blur...
I can still
see the
pieces
of your own
person-
written between
the lines I've
penned when
I still have
the heart to love.

Torn pages,
erasures here and there-
I have tried to
write you off,
but it seems
I cannot ****
what's immortal.
More so, I cannot
erase what I
have written.

Tear stained,
scratched papers-
I have bled
enough blood
to tamper
the words I've
written...
But you...
You, I cannot
replace.
and I, I was
the only one
at fault...
It was my own
words
that made
you immortal.

*When a writer falls in love with you, YOU CAN NEVER DIE.

Suicide is a
plea for
attention...
So how many
times do I have to
fling myself
from every
cliff I see?
How many
times should
I cut myself into pieces?
Do I have to
hang myself
right before
your eyes
just so
you'd hear the plea
of my broken heart?

*Loving someone who will never love you back is like committing suicide every time you see him smile, how every laugh can make you bleed because you it wasn't for you. IT WILL NEVER BE YOU

Behind the boys
I wrote these words for,
there was a man
I fell in love first...
One whom I could
not love beyond
attraction and such,
for I was not the woman
he would love back,
he was a man whom
love cannot fathom,
he was far beyond my
reach, someone I
can only look at from afar.

He was the man
whom I wanted before
I met the boys who
would break my heart
into tiny words
I used to etch
the poems
into papers...

Behind the words I wrote,
there lies the
silhouette of a man,
a man whom I
fell in love first.
Between the lines
he sleeps,
between the spaces,
he lives.

Who are you?
Who are you behind those smiles
you wear every day?
Behind those words you rarely meant?
Behind the face everyone knows?
Who is that person you see
in the mirror
whenever you wake up in the morning,
raw and vulnerable...?
That person who cries silent tears, do
you perhaps know him?
Who are you behind the
name you did not choose?

When you are stripped bare
of everything you put up
to be someone you thought
you can be...
Would you still recognize
your own person?

Who are you?

In silence I loved him,
And in silence I have lost him.
In silence I've longed for his hand,
And in silence I've met emptiness.
In silence I fell,
And in silence I heard my own heart breaking...