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gd Dec 2013
You severed my heart,
sliced it to strips and
fed me the pieces
stuffed them down my throat
tearing my vocal chords
leaving me gasping for air and
astoundingly speechless
drowning in water as thick as molasses
in the middle of the ocean of my own tears
as I travel nothing but downwards
weighed down by a solid, rusted anchor
already nearing the seabed
home to caverns and creatures
who are attracted to the sadness I radiate
leaving me to rot at the centre of oblivion
when I know I should be wrapped tightly in your arms.

That's how you make me feel.

And part of me hopes you feel the same gut-wrenching way, while the other (still foolishly in love) hopes you never have to encounter this great amount of affliction you explicitly deserve.

- g.d.
Merry Christmas, ******.
gd Oct 2014
You've got my heart as flat as stone,
skipping over water and trying
not to sink under the
weight of your
gaze.

God, darling,
I feel like a whirlwind around you,
trying to grasp onto some sort of stability
until I realize it's just always been you—

like the feeling of a swing at the peak of the climb
where for a split second you know you're safe,
expecting the drop, eager for the fall and
smiling at the realization of its simplicity.

You told me yesterday that it was
i  m  p  o  s  s  i  b  l  e

to truly touch someone to
the extent of their atomic make up
because it would lead to combustion—
a tragic explosion of sorts, but I swear that's
how it feels when you collide your lips against mine.

The atomic make up of our particles
come in contact far too  c  l  o  s  e ,
far too comfortable that it triggers

every
single
nerve
ending


of my body
creating a string
of static electricity
leading to my heart,
reviving and elevating
to a whole new level of
combustion.

You're golden darling.

gd
{I don't want to admit it, but you're different}
gd Nov 2014
I think I've gotten accustomed to this acquired taste of anxiety.
I've got shivers travelling through my fingers
and if you look close enough it's sputtering out sparks
that could probably ignite some sort of ruthless wildfire.

Maybe it's because I've gotten so used to
these constant thoughts of how even the brightest
glimmers of gold tend to give way
and become dull at the slightest sign of ignorance.

Or maybe it's because I've gotten so used to
watching the seasons change
as quickly as those who've already left my life
and never looked back.

It's this constant badgering reminder of how life never waits for anyone
and there you are five months later wondering
how it could have gotten this cold
when you were just wearing a flimsy skirt the day before.

And I have no idea why my heart is pounding
to the rhythm of a drum I've never even heard
or why I'm already nostalgic for things I haven't even lost yet
because I can't seem to grasp onto anything without it

tearing apart
or disintegrating
or disappearing
without a last final glimpse of recognition.

I've gotten so used to holding in my goodbyes
and waiting
and waiting
and waiting until it's just
....
gone.
....

gone
like sunlight
only after five hours past noon.
gone
like that last bite of sanity
I've already digested three years ago.
gone
like that time I gave myself away
to a boy who only knew how to take.
gone
like the slightest bit of innocence I wasted
trying to hold onto something
and someone I made up so long ago.
gone
like my heart
at the slightest thought of you
changing your mind.

Please don't change your mind.

gd
{I don't want you gone yet}
gd Mar 2014
I tried to recall
your face again,
because I remember
its frame being as
familiar as the
back of my hand:
the slight crook
in your cuspids, the
deep dimples under
the ends of your smile,
the shining whites
of your eyes always
being a little too
white, but then
when I tried to
put these pieces
together, I always
come up lost
within your
floating matter,
which quite frankly,
just does not
matter anymore.

gd
As if I remember the tiny parts of you, but when I step back to witness the whole, you become nothing but a blur - a faded memory that just keeps deteriorating.
gd Mar 2014
She always told me to choose my battles,
but she was never really a fighter. She
was selective, and exclusive - creating
a stone fence around her kingdom, in
hopes of blocking all suffering and
trapping all the happening. She was head
strong, stubborn - liked to be right, even
when it meant doing something dead wrong.
"You keep your friends close, and your
enemies farthest,"
and that was how she
got by amongst those who were toxic. She
made homes out of rubble, and found
something magical when all and everyone
had left; it was a kingdom of only a few,
but it was hers. And she liked it that way.

                                   My mother always told me to choose my
                                   battles. And I never really understood until
                                   now. She was selective and exclusive, but
                                   she was cunning and realistic. Why risk
                                   warfare over the approval of one person,
                                   when you could spend your time creating a loyal
                                   army instead?
Fighting for nothing but the
                                   upper-hand on some golden pedestal, I burned
                                   down the remains of my dignity and became
                                   a soldier I couldn't even look in the mirror. I
                                   fought to be the better person, all to risk
                                   becoming the complete opposite. I chose his
                                   battle, but I did not have to lose mine. So, I
                                   finally waved my white flag high, surrendered
                                   to the will of my own. And somehow that was
                                   just enough to win the war inside my mind.

gd
Something valuable I learned from my mother. Happy birthday.
gd Mar 2014
Lately, it's been so hard to stay awake,

and       I'm just looking for signs
              to get me through these gloomy days
              I think about summer sunsets
              I think about us
              I think about how we were never
              really an "us" in the first place
              I think about disconnection (yours and mine)
              I think about the late nights I find comfort in
              I think about the early mornings
              that always start with dizzy thoughts
              I think about why it's been so hard to stay awake,
              when I have so much more to live for than this

gd
gd Dec 2023
Love is fear,
eye to eye
love is fear,
hand in hand,
love is fear.
heart to heart.

I am tethered to you
by a slender golden chain.
A puppet and
its strings above.
An ordinary girl and
a spectacular love.

The depths of my bones have hallowed out
to store our memories
and ours alone.
Clear as day, sweet as honey,
but as gentle as the wind,
as fragile as a snowflake under a spring sun.

We are one
and yet not one enough.
Two halves of a destined whole.
How disheartening it is to realize
you are mine
and yet also betrothed to Providence.

So I whisper prayers
for a mourning
I will never have to feel.
I whisper prayers of winged feet
to carry us to an unbreakable,
unshakeable land.

Because love is fear
And I fear my bones will stay hollow
without you.
Love is fear.
And I fear my body would buckle
under all that heart break.

To love is to fear.
Fear that we may never be
eye to eye,
hand in hand,
heart to heart
ever again.

gd
gd May 2014
It's weird.
Some days I will have complete periods of strength
that reach till the ends of my nails and the tips of my split ends,
then some days I am drained completely from head to toe.

As if I am the rigid metal that carries lightning currents
downwards into the earthy ground -
emotionless exterior but interior chaos.
And if I was a storm I would be the circumference:

Hectic and reckless causing havoc in my path
when all I ever long for is to reach the eye of my own destruction;
to touch the absolute stillness of its centre;
the becoming and acceptance of the right here and right now.

But I am never here; I am everywhere all the time.

I am the rain that falls even when the sun
is shining on the bare skin on your backs.
I am the gasp after shock and the light ringing
in your ears hidden behind the invisible vibrato in the air.

I am the strength and the weakness;
I am the hurricane all together,
attaching myself to imaginary homes
I made out of the rubble of temporary emotions.

And maybe that is why
I cannot seem to hold onto anything long enough.
Or when the storm reaches its peak, maybe that is why
I cannot seem to let go quickly enough either.

gd
gd May 2014
There was always something weighing me down
much more prominently than gravity. It sat on my shoulders
as if it were a king finally gracing his throne, and pushed downwards
on my temples in some attempt of keeping me grounded.

But I began to believe in this burden -
looked towards it as guidance, when all along
I had been walking down a path of blotchy grass and stone
that shouldn't have been trudged along in the first place.

I looked for the answers underneath the soil
and tried to piece my puzzles with left over morning dew,
but the soil just fell through my fingers
and the dew had disappeared before brunch.

The weight was my blanket, my sturdy bridge, my fireplace
- it was protective, sempiternal and warm -
but it was also transparent, rigid, and uncomfortable
- safe, but entirely manifested hesitance -

All this time, I believed that the weight was right;
the burden was compressing me to be simpler and lighter.
But today, I chose the path leading to a faulty tightrope across the way
and I ended up flying instead of falling; free rather than frivolous.

gd
gd Feb 2014
You seem awfully heated
for the one who lit the match;
the one who burned the bridge
and left without a scratch.

But it is not my fault that you're so bitter
just because I'm finally better.

gd
gd Mar 2014
He held my hand today in the most delicate way,     
as if my fingers resembled flower petals and my     
palm reenacted butterfly wings. My hand felt          
fragile in his grip, which mimicked my feelings        
towards him because his heart did not belong           
in the spaces between my touch - his heart                 
belonged in something as light as air; something      
as delicate as cotton. And my heart was tattered      
with thorns, assured to shred his into pieces. All      
the more treacherous, he traced my fingers be           
tween my mittens, and it still felt like fabric -            
contrary to your inevitable static. And that is           
when I knew that even though he did everything    
right, he made it that much worse. As much as he    
tried, my frost-coated lips challenged the warmth    
in his voice, and it wasn't me he needed. It was I      
that needeth not deserve him.

gd
gd Feb 2014
I
haven't had a cup of tea since I was love sick
with the lemon drops of your scent and
the honey sweet memories of your laugh
during the brisk endeavours of autumn.

I
watched my cup fill to the rim
with steaming hot water and imagined it
burning away your residue;
I dipped the tea leaves twice,
then thrice,
as if to stain the walls an entirely different
colour than the amateur mosaic of
starry night you had painted for me before.

I
drank you up like it were my first gulp of liquid
since desert droughts had occupied my mind.
And with one last sigh after the last drop,
you were gone - no longer lingering
on the surface of my cup, nor the tips of my lips.
Thus, instantly opening my pores in relief
and brightening my eyes with contentment
because little did I know that while

you were the poison, you were somehow also the cure.

gd
gd Mar 2015
We were both a little too hopeless and a little too romantic
to truly understand just how on earth we could possibly
love each other right; a couple worn out kids with
worn out hearts sewn to the inside of their left
sleeves because the only thing that felt right
was doing everything completely
wrong.

gd
{maybe I'm still caught up on what ifs}
gd Apr 2015
I miss your beating heart making music in my ears.
They used to sing lullabies
that would always leave me drowsy in desires,
and I wonder if you still hum as often as you used to.

Because that was the mood shift,
the tell tale sign that you were happy.
A soft rift here, another octave there;
I miss that sound because it always filled the silence with serenity.

Recently however, silence has been all I've been used to.
And the only beating heart I'm hearing is my own,
running like I've been running miles.
But in actuality

I've only been sitting still, staring at ceilings
wondering if I could turn back time
I wouldn't have had to watch you turn around
and never look back.

My hands always shake just thinking about you
and I can't help but wonder if maybe
it's because your fingers are no longer intertwined
to keep them still.

I miss the warmth and the pure comfort.
I'm wearing layers and fake smiles
and I can't even think about tomorrow
without wondering how things would be different

if you were here today.

gd
{I hope you're happy}
gd Sep 2014
They say scent
is the closest thing to memory,
so it makes sense that I'm caving
under whiffs of the past,
trying to stand without breaking into*
p  i  e  c  e s.

See,
you're fire—totally alive and
wrapped in spearmint.
But he's Korres, totally impressed,
sugar-coated with guava and
***** peach.


gd
gd Dec 2013
​I love you more than the moon loves the stars
that it appears every night just to get a glimpse.
I love you more than a bird’s need to soar through the clouds
as if it were meant to glide forever.

I love you more than a baby’s first blanket
as they cling tightly to the seams and never let it out of their sight.
I love you more than a rainbow’s love for colour
that it lets every single one stream through the clouds in perpetual awe.

I love you more than the rain’s passion for the ground
that it risks the detrimental fall just to touch its surface.
I love you more than the very first day,
and everyday after that,

till this very day, where I’ve loved you most
and have never loved anything just as much.
Every second my love grows and longs for the scent of you
and your hand in mine,

intertwined,
as if they were a painting
that would live through the centuries and never die.
And though my love for you seems eternal,

I am afraid you do not feel the same.
And as my love for you grows,
your love seems to decay,
just like the moon’s final seconds before every sunrise;

a bird’s tired wings;
a baby’s growth blossoming
into something less innocent, less attached;
a rainbow’s last goodbye through the puddles left to dry;

the drops of rain that only lived their lives
watching themselves fall into their unfriendly fate,
and just like the last minutes of every single day -
there will always be an end.

There will always be a “last,”
instead of something that was made to last.
And here I stand to love you, for as long as I can,
and though yours has halted, I still hold true to my promise:

to love you like it were the very first day
as if it would never require a last one.

- g.d.
gd May 2015
You turned
me into ash;
I turned you
into poetry.

gd
gd Jul 2014
It just doesn't work, trust me.
You said matter-of-factly in the tone of voice
that could have persuaded me to do anything,
except believe this.

No, it does. It just requires both people to put some effort in.
I remember myself contemplating
and convincing you;
trying to make you believe it was possible, because it had to be.

Exes can't be friends after everything. It just doesn't work.
You told me of all the others
pretty and playful who ran away with your heart
but never gave it back.

But for the longest time, I tried to prove you wrong
tried to make us invinsible in some sort of way
tried to make you see in a new sort of light
tried to show you it wasn't that hard
tried to hold on to what we had
tried to keep our friendship
tried to be the exception
tried to keep us intact
tried to find a way
tried to be more
tried to stay
tried to
tried

But I just came out breathless and heartless
because I hate to admit it, but
god, you were right.*

gd
{I remembered you said this when we were still best friends, and I can't help but think about all the little blunt signs I missed getting hypnotized by your eyes because we're no longer lovers, not even friends, no longer anything. And I'm still trying to be okay with that}
gd Mar 2014
&
poetic verses about you
darling, as a last resort
to make you stay; a last
attempt to make you
permanent
in this ephemeral world

&

without any notice your
name was engraved
in ink on the back of
my tongue,

&

I am still trying to
spit you out in the
most relevant ways.

gd
Ju.
gd Apr 2015
Ju.
I know you are
trying to forget
me but please
don't
because I won't.

gd
gd Nov 2014
I met this guy in
white Ralph Lauren
and right then and there
I knew we couldn't be friends.

We clicked like a puzzle;
literally every piece seemed to interlock
and I couldn't keep my eyes away
as if this burning desire lay between us
across some paperweight bridge of tension
and affection

and please, I just want to cross it
and I want to throw my hands up
and scream to the mountains
and just yell ***** it! at the top of my lungs
and plunge into whatever void his presence has planned for me

because I can't seem to
shake him off of my mind,
so I know this is already bad.

I can feel it chattering and creating a
foundation under my epidermis
scattering my nerves in places
I did not think were possible
and there sits a bed-sized
crater just for him. And I
know it's bad, I know
it.
And I shouldn't
even care and I
shouldn't let it
happen but
here I am
o  n  c  e
again.

gd
{this could very well be the best and worst decision I've ever made}
gd May 2017
If you can't take the heat
don't start the fire.

gd
gd Jun 2014
I don't understand what I want.
I feel like I'm cutting through a layer of thick metal,
enduring the sound of scraping steel scratch from surface to centre
and I'm not getting through—through to you.

I talked about him today. Embraced his disappearance in my memory
and seemed to watch him walk away all over again.
I was washed with emotion and serene understanding
of some in depth sentiment that I only found intact with him.

And it just ******* ***** because I acknowledge my surroundings—
they're printed and plastered all over in bright reds and yellows
making room for summertime without the sadness—
yet some void remains sat square in the middle;

Some lost hope, unable to make sense of what exactly belongs there.
And I'm cutting through layers of other peoples' minds
to see if their context can create art with my emotions.
But it's nothing but dull.

It's all surface and no substance,
which discourages the complexity of my being
and causes the wind from the outdoor tempest to reach
the ends of my eyelashes and the edges of my clenched teeth.

What I'm trying to say is, maybe I'm expecting too much from you.
I'm imagining mansions and kaleidoscope chemistry
with sparks sputtering out of my mouth
in the form of stutters and laughs that keep me breathless.

But instead, I'm getting dying embers,
that come from the scorching coal path of my memories burning beneath my feet.
I'm expecting too much, but I can't risk expecting nothing at all
for someone who can't even make my fingertips tingle or cause my heart to race.

Especially because I know the feeling of awe;
especially because I've felt it all before.

gd
gd Apr 2015
Please let me
find a silver
lining under
all this rust
because I've
scraped my
skin one too
many times
across concrete
slabs of undesired
endeavours and I am
getting quite tired patching
up scabs I know will just scar in the end.

gd
gd Apr 2014
Don't look so sad, darling. I know it's tough right now
to think there is nothing worth living for. I know life
can be cruel when you turn your attention away for
even a moment. And I know how much you try and
how hard you work, but there are still some things
you need to realize.

              Maybe a year from now, a month from now, a week from now -
              even tomorrow, you'll find someone who will love the way you
              scrunch up your nose for no reason. Someone who will laugh at
              all your lame jokes; someone who will understand why your
              clothes need to match and your books need to be straight. They
              will notice the way you make patterns with your fingertips and
              how you breathe for good luck. Someone who realizes you only
              like your cucumbers with cream cheese or how you don't like
              peppers. At all. They will smirk about how you smile to yourself
              when no one looks, and how you gasp at TV characters like they
              were your best friends. Even how you like to hum when you're
              bored. And scream your heart out in crowded concerts just to feel
              like part of the noise, because they will know just how much you
              hate the silence. They will bring you sunshine on rainy days since
              that's when you will need it the most. They will realize why you
              never read a book if you've already watched the movie, and give
              you the time you need alone just with your words. Someone who
              will feel the cringing when you hear metal on chalkboards and be
              able to smell your favourite mid-August breeze. They will watch
              you dangerously dance with your fingers as much as your feet
              and sway to the rhythm even without any music around. Maybe
              they will know when you want sushi and how you like it raw,
              when you want pizza - with extra cheese and barbecue sauce on
              top - or how you like no onions on your double bacon cheese
              burger cravings at midnight on a Tuesday. Someone who will love
              you for your big mouth and your little mistakes; someone who
              would bring down a comet when you get tired of stars; someone
              who will be there before, during and after the morning hangover.
              And who will still love you the most when life gets cruel.

But first, darling,
learn to love yourself just as much.

gd
{things I have yet to learn}
gd Dec 2013
The last time you looked at me with love
was somewhere between September,
where summer was nearing its end and
autumn was saying hello.

The last time you said you loved me
was Thanksgiving weekend, when you reminded me
how your world only consisted of my presence and
"grateful" was an innocent understatement to define how you felt.

The last time you held my hand
you wrapped my fingers in every crevice of your grip
squeezing it tight as if
never wanting to let me go.

The last time you kissed me
was a passionate concoction
embroidered on the satin fabric
of lust and love.

You picked me up from behind,
spun me around my living room
and kissed me against my front door
as if there was going to be a next time.

But Christmas has presented itself like a shooting star:
visible but barely there, flashing by in a second only to steal all your wishes.
And it has come to my attention that it's been far too long
since you've even allowed my name to roll off your tongue.

The last time you talked to me* was at a mutual friend's party,
where my heart became nervous, an all too old sensation,
to even have the courage to talk to you
wondering if your voice would be warm even with the belligerent wind outside.  

The last time I felt your embrace
was the exact same day, given in an awkward stance,
ending with you walking out the door where
winter awaited to kiss your cheeks because I had no right to anymore.

And this time, you didn't look at me with love, or kiss me from behind.
This time, you used your hands to push me away,
and that's when it crossed my mind that
those three little words abruptly became Latin on your native English tongue.

Though those were the last times I had any signs of your presence still physically in my life,
they weren't the last times I dreamt of you, longed for your hand (or kiss or hug), or loved you.
But as a new dawn rounds the corner, I solemnly swear today -
today will be the last time I miss you.

                                                        ­        *Or at least I'll try to.


- g.d.
I wish you a good life, Love.
gd Oct 2014
There's something knocking at the back of my mind
and it sounds like pebbles hitting the nerves if my temporal lobe.

It's tapping in morse code and I can almost hear it
singing all those songs I was meant to forget.
They're slower though—acoustic and remixed
to the dying beat of all our memories.

If I focus on it long enough
I could probably pinpoint where it's coming from,
but I know I'm just choosing not to.
If I focus on it hard enough,
I could probably repaint its rainbow splatters on a canvas,
but I'm just choosing not to.

If I focus on it long enough,
I might just hear your voice again—
coated sweet nothings in nothing but syrup,
but I'm just choosing not to because

you never chose me, darling.

Even until now, we flinch at the sight of each other
rather than letting the light consume us like all the times before.

And maybe I'm just mad at the stars for not giving me some sort of sign
or godforsaken comet to warn me from falling for you the first time,
or the second,
or over and over again

Because it's not fair that you've still got my head spinning
when I cut every single piece of red thread that tied us together.
It's not fair that you've got me second guessing my present
because of the ashes and rotting debris of the past.

There's something knocking at the back of my mind.
It's tapping in morse code
about all the questions you left hanging in mid-air.
The thumping is getting louder and I can't—

I can't make it stop.

gd
It's not fair because I can't stop it.
I don't know if I want to.
It's all I have left of you.
gd Aug 2015
There's something so peaceful
about being intertwined within
the arms of the person you love.

There's an effortless simplicity
that I can't quite put a finger on,
but it leaves me breathless and
in total awe, trapped beneath all
the emotions laced between all
our endeavours.

Just as staring in silence,
no movements
—just this unexplainable static that vibrates between our fingers—
captivates the inner part of my soul.

Because I don't know how
to determine the trademarks
of a soulmate, but if it's anything like this
—if its passion races through your mind like rapids,
if the multitude of love circulates cosmos throughout the universe of your mind,
if it is destined to leave you with nothing less than utmost fascination,
if it numbs your heart but fuels the life within your spirit—
it has to be real.

I am at peace in the noisiest states,
and I am connected by this promise
I make to you.

gd
{we locked our love with concrete in between all the brick walls}
gd May 2014
Don't look too proud, darling,
because dignity is dripping off
the Swarovski crystals on this
broken chandelier and your
name is the last thing they
would spell out if they came
crashing down. A bunch of
boisterous words & boastful
stories won't get you very far
except for a couple steps
[s d a r w k c a b]

And if you wanted to dabble
a chord on my heart strings,
it would have been easier to
not say anything at all, but
your once dormant thoughts
began pouring out of your
once silent lips in some childish
attempt to rattle some sort of
r      a      t       o    
   e       c      i       n

And behind those innocent
eyes lie only craters you dug
out of yourself because of
your own selfish pride. So
don't act too proud, darling,
speak a little louder and you'll
end up biting off your own
t   o   n   g   u   e   .

gd
{sabotaging someone else's sanity won't make you feel at home}
gd Jul 2015
I would be lying if I said
it didn't bother me that you were smiling
because of someone else's sunlight.

I would be lying if I said
that my heart never pulls apart
whenever I catch you in places I thought you wouldn't be.

And I would be lying if I said
I was over you choosing fear
over me.

See, the thing is, I thought I would never see you again.
I thought the second you walked out my door
would be the last time I'd see your eyes.

Yet, yesterday ironically, ours locked like two metal puzzle pieces
and the clashing of steel left ringing in my ears
and sparks flying out of my sanity.

I don't know what it is about you.
There's this sort of unexplainable heat
on the rims of your gaze that leaves a sort of branding.

And every single time your aura enters the room, I feel like the walls
are closing in on my mind, bring me down dark narrow paths
whose light you blew out whilst dousing the flames of my heart.

And maybe it's the thought of you
becoming everything I would've wanted you to be
that leaves me biting my tongue full of envy.

Because I would be lying if I told you
I was proud that all it took was the elimination of me
to make you happy.

gd
{a year ago was so different}
gd Feb 2014
How foolish of me to take a harmless quiz
to truly understand if I "got over" you yet.
Little did they know I walked across (and "got over")
the bridge we created a long while ago,
but I still remain on the other side
guarding it from unwanted visitors.

I "got over" the persistent reminders
that you would never say you loved me,
as well as the overwhelming whispers
that you would never walk me home anymore.
I "got over" your name falling to the bottom of my contact list,
and the fact that you never smiled when I was around.

I "got over" a lot of things, my dear,
yet I still took that test just to make sure
I "got over" your scent
and your touch and your taste.
And all it confirmed was:
not quite yet, but you're almost there.

I always knew quizzes were complete ******* because
boy, were they wrong.

- g.d.
gd Dec 2013
Our ambivalent choices lead to impulsive actions
and every inch of your scent pulled me in like a rope,
unable to set myself free.
Your eyes like lighthouses to guide me from the tempest in my mind;
your pulse to the beat of my heart -

racing and heightened with emotions of lust and love,
merging the two as if they were one.
Every kiss sent shivers down my spine,
and a trial of flames down my skin.

You left scars in my heart
the same way you left them on my neck -
bruised and aching for your love.
A voice so cynical and undeserving

once told me of a love story so tragic it could only be true.
Regretful and confused, have I given away my dignity?
When you’ve given all your love,
what more is there to give than lust and pity?

In the darkest corners of my mind,
you stand there walking away and coming towards me
at the same time. Your eyes like lighthouses,
but your lips like satin,

your touch like alcohol: addictive and tempting.
Your scent so captivating,
while your kisses inescapable. You see,
you live in the darkest corners because you are the lamp in the dark

and the weakness in my soul. You have me lost within myself
with every smirk and smile.
I am bruised and aching for something I shouldn’t.
You are the wind and the sun

and every season I await to bask in.
Cross my heart and hope to die,
you are my courage wrapped in the scent
that make my knees go weak.

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                             - g.d.
gd Nov 2014
Looking back,
I ruined myself
in l i t t l e ways
(by the locks of my
hair the swing
in my step the
stress in my smile)
all for the sake
of trying to get
rid of you but
I just got rid of
myself instead.

gd
{my hair has gotten long and it's been a direct metaphor for how long I've loved you, but I've been meaning to cut it off}
gd Apr 2014
I went for a run today
- straight, right, around and about -
only to end up in the exact place
we first (almost) kissed
with our hands held and
a heart drawn in the dirt,
you reached out for my lips and
staggered along with my breath.
But today, you no longer sat beside me
and my hands only grabbed at
the limestone underneath my palms;
winter washed away the shape
meant to be engraved forever and
I reached out a little farther
only to find a puddle to replace your space.
Surprisingly however,
my breath no longer staggered with the wind,
and I walked away with a smile
knowing whatever happened there
still lies deeper than dirt.

gd
gd Aug 2014
You're the last person I should be falling for,
spiralling head first into this void
of paper-mâché'd "love"
but god,

I'm so in like with you.

gd
{last month, you were the only thing that kept me awake on my morning bus rides}
gd Mar 2015
My greatest love turned everything he touched to gold.
From the stars in the sky to the glimmer in his eyes,
everything seemed gilded by his fingertips.

A power so strong it could penetrate skin and
bone all the way to the cusp of my heart.
And for once in my life, death couldn't
whisper past the aurous shield
around my heart & my blood
felt replaced by fairy dust.

All it took were his lips on mine to make me feel like wildfire.
I was a burning bush of all his desires and endeavours.
And my flames consumed him
as much as it consumed me.

The warmth I managed to radiate from the effortless hum of his voice
hypnotized every nerve ending in my body and
he got so caught up in this masterpiece
that he ended up lost in my eyes
the same way I got lost in his.

Sooner or later, we were both running blind
trying to find the finish line
towards stability.

We jumped through hoops and burned down bridges,
sacrificing our sanities for the approval of each other.
Yet in the end, the finish line promised nothing
but broken promises.

Piece by piece we cut away
at the golden kingdom
we created,
cut away
at ourselves,
hoping a little karma
could win us something constant.

With no avail, we came out shattered, almost unrecognizable.
My greatest love sold his soul so I could have mine,
oblivious to the fact that I had done the same.

gd
{maybe there is such a thing as "too late"}
gd Aug 2014
Sometimes I feel like I'm the worst type of pessimist.
At heart I'm an optimist, looking past the highest mountains,
trying to reach the sky with the tips of my fingers and
catch the clouds at the base of my palms.

However, in head,
I'm the biggest pessimist
finding the dark spots on the sunniest days,
herding death between the cracks in the concrete.

And the head is like the heart's big sister,
telling her to take a step back and make sure of her actions,
bossing her around, burning out her spark,
leaving the dead of the night with nothing but doubt.

But you've got my lips coated in sugar and
my intentions wrapped in flames.
You've got my heart scrapping its knees and
my head spinning

Because who would've thought
it'd finally meet its match,
unable to hold something down
with two hands and keep it in place.

But both of them are undoubtedly worried,
darling.
They're running for the hills and
finding a place to set camp where you'd never find.

Empty handed and confused, they're still searching and
the only thing going through their thoughts remains to be

"there's still time to run
          there's still time to run
                  there's still time
                            just move your feet,
                                       don't look back
                                                 and run
                                                         as fast as you can."


gd
{you're making my stomach twist into butterfly knots, and it's oh so bittersweet}
gd Jun 2016
How did we shatter our innocence?

Tripping over the laces we tied together,
building homes solely out of old memories,
finding comfort in our worst pieces of skin
and calling it love at 3am
crying about insecurities and infidelities.

Darling, how can it still be called love
when the fires are burning down our sanctuaries, and our sanities?
How can it still be called love
when our foundations no longer mimic the Great Wall of China,
or stand indestructible like the concrete Pyramids of Egypt?

We are paper thin
and just as fragile
as the tiny paper houses
we used to make out of playing cards.

Our hands no longer fit
like perfect puzzle pieces -
they mimic sheets of sandpaper instead,
scratching out every ounce of sincerity
we once engraved into each other's palms.

Our footsteps fall separate octaves away,
out of sync and out of touch,
in this **** grand scheme
somehow labelled a masterpiece.

We were once flawless.
But now we've just made flaws
out of every single thing we used to fall for.
Now, we're just flawed.

gd
{my biggest fear is losing you over your fear of losing me}
gd Apr 2014
If someone would just listen,
they'd realize I don't mind
if the sun never shines.
I just want the rain to stop
and someone to stay.

gd
Mb.
gd Mar 2014
Mb.
You brought out the worst
in me, but boy did
it make some
**** good
poetry.

gd
gd Jan 2014
I tried to
make a playlist
of all the songs
that reminded
me of you
for the sole
purpose of burning
them entirely
and listening to
the rest in peace,
but I realized
every single one
was laced with
your name
so I ended up
burning everything
to the ground
and it still
wasn't enough
to get you out
of my head.
gd Mar 2014
You see, I'm quite the forgetful catch.
It'll take me an hour to remember the chart of scientists that
they claim to have contributed to the understanding of my evolution,
oblivious to the fact that I have evolved in many ways when exposed to    
sound           touch           scent           taste           and           sight
It will take me the entire day to count the bobby pins I've lost, and the
pieces of paper I've magically vanished; maybe even a year of
long drunken laughs to memorize your birthday.
But it seems I've found an exception.

Your body is like a canvas:
entirely used to replicate sheet music in its originality
and intricate messages hidden behind staccatos and fermatas.
See, I've memorized the back of your head like a tune on the radio
replayed      over      and      over      and      over
­until it was the only melody I began to hear from morning till dusk
(with the occasional masterpieces that leaked its desires)
(and romantic words past my subconscious)
(and into my dreams)

I'm a forgetful catch, darling.

I'll forget the day
we first locked eyes, but
remember the hour you carved
h   o   l   e   s
into the bark-like exterior of my
heart and outlined your name
with a needle.

I'll forget what you had told me
you had for breakfast, but remember the
minute it took for you to fill my stomach with
b u t t e r f l i e s
that late autumn afternoon just by the baritone
of your laugh. Sad to say, I'll probably
even forget your birthday.

But I will always cherish that extra second of serenity
the last time you held me tight within your arms
[and fought the urge to let me go]
[but you did anyways]

gd
Because I'm listening to the type of music you would be listening to, and wondered if maybe one day you had come across songs of mine and felt the same way for even the slightest second during that last chord.
gd Jul 2014
Memory Lane
can be lethal, you know;
it fills the cracks between your skin and
occupies the spaces between your fingers.

Trudging along its narrow path
can cause you to trip on everything behind you
without even trying to,
allowing the colours of every sky
to fill the depths of your beating heart
only to freeze it right in place.

A plague of some sort
bringing pangs and plunges of unmistakeable euphoria
and nostalgia
and realization of the drastic ephemeral nature
of anything and everything—amazement and wonder
lead by sorrow and loss.

Because Memory Lane is a traveller,
a nomad in this mind of yours,
unable to settle on specifics so it sets its net
on everything around it, bringing back sentiments of
every little thing
you thought you had forgotten.

It sets up camp in every crevice of your spine,
leading the way
but always waiting for
no one.

gd
{there's not a single thing in this world
that I haven't sewn your name into,
and I'm regretting it,
I'm regretting it,
I'm regretting it}
gd Jul 2014
I just find it baffling
that you thought of
me as just some big
ball of burning
d  u  s  t ,
poking and prodding
until I burned out,
when you were every
single little shining  
s  t  a  r  
in the northern
sky to me.

gd
gd Apr 2014
There's a pulsing in my head I can't seem to shake off
and it always beats to the rhythm of your breath.

& because of this I can't seem to pick up
another black or blue pen for my life because
it still leaks the words you told me;
still leaks the words that used to be true.

& I think that's what baffles me the most:
that words remain in the moment - just like pictures
and carved wood - but as time passes by they
lose their meaning and fade away like dust in a sandstorm.

& there I sit, right at the eye of the tempest
waiting for the pulsing in my temples to subside
in the dead of the night with nothing but
the silence to keep me company and the chaos to keep me warm.

gd
gd May 2014
Did you know
it rained on the sun?
That crossroads run along two sides;
that there are still words left unspoken
as I come back blind?
And every truth that I've been given
turned out to be nothing but lies?
Yet Karma calls back
to bring full attention,
and all those answers, well,
they're still left questioned.

gd
{dated April 4, 2010 | rummaging through old things and stumbled upon similar emotions}
gd Mar 2014
God, I need to stop writing about you.

But it seems my hand moves with your eyes
forcing me to forge letters with its movements,
and the words you say always sounds like music,
so by the time I look at my paper,
I've already written sheet music to last eternities.

I even went to meditation seminars in hopes of
finding peace within body and mind to get rid of you,
until I realized that you left a trail of your DNA
on the surface of my skin after the way you touched
every inch of me; its particles leaked its way
into the crevices and grooves of my brain.

And God, I just want to stop writing about you.

gd
gd Apr 2015
all their eyes on me
resurrecting memories
bitter as can be

gd
{no one understands}
gd Apr 2014
I know you still have my heart
stored somewhere I'd never
think to find because the
space between my ribs
always feels so cold,
causing them to
see only the
heartless
side of
me.

gd
gd Sep 2016
Sometimes I find myself searching
and searching
for pieces of myself that
I've never really wanted in the first place.

And I'll keep that pamphlet,
and I'll cherish that trinket,
and I'll store that bus ticket
just for safe keeping.

And I'll sleep for hours
to see if I can find
what I've lost
in my subconscious

but over
and over again
I find things I never wanted
in the first place

and I'll throw them into the sea
only to swim back to shore,
too late and too far gone
to realize I'm going to have to jump back in.

And maybe I'm talking in circles
and maybe I never really belonged
anywhere
other than where I sleep for the night

Or wherever I decided to
set foot to scavenge
for any remains of myself
that I took for granted.

Maybe a nomad
only finds peace
at the edge of losing everything.
Or maybe they never find peace at all.

gd
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