Stuck between going through,
and going back;
stuck holding somebody else,
and wishing to hold his.
Wanting to love them again,
and wanting to be loved by
someone new;
it's a battle between meddling with
the past
or fighting for the future.

you told me you love me but
your eyes never shown interest,
your lips cracked as if it's
telling a broken promise.
you told me you cared for me,
but your body sways for her;
your brain works for her.
tell me everything you need,
but let your body lie for you.

the night isn't just for the howling wolves,
or the big-eyed owls;
it's also for those with 2am thoughts,
and the drunk, unloved.
it's for those who rarely sleep,
the people who wish they have someone.
it's also for me,
who keeps questioning on what went wrong.

"an open letter to the one i loved most,

i hope you finally know how to actually sleep early.

i hope you finally get to finish the movies you've been dying to watch.

i hope you finally get the chance to have a clear mind, to actually think right.

i hope you finally love yourself, as much as i've loved you, maybe, even more.

i hope you finally find that someone that can love you fully, the love that i can never give enough.

i hope you can finally be happy with the presence of our friends, and not worry about me getting mad.

i hope you can finally get the freedom you might not wanted but you needed.

i hope you finally know the true meaning of 'here' and 'now'.

i hope you finally get the chance to fall in love again, with a better person.

i hope you finally achieve all of those you wanted, even if you're still indecisive about them.

i hope you finish all of your goals.

and lastly,

i hope that you never think about me, how much of a mess i was, and how much i was a burden to you."

we lie awake for the same reasons we fall asleep,
the haunting feeling of the past,
the unsureness of the future,
the unchangeableness of the present,
our eyes remain open and it reminds us of our past mistakes,
the ones we want to change but never will,
it reminds us of what used to be so easy;
living freely.

feel how my heart sings for you,
how it's battered and bruised but it still continues to leap at the mere sound of your name.
feel how my heart cries for you,
the day you left, i never felt the same way.
feel how my heart beats for you,
how it takes it's last breathe of the air you breath, the faint smell of honeydew and the sweet pink of your lips forgotten and shoved in it's drawer.
feel how it takes its time to move on,
erasing every bit of the memory you left on its skin until everything is completely gone.

‪would you still stay after the rain?‬
‪if the songs we play don't make us dance anymore,‬
‪if all the jokes and banter's been told?‬
‪would you still stay if the sun comes out?‬
‪if our fingertips don't brush off each other like they used to,‬
‪if our sentences are not filled by one another?‬
‪would you still stay if i told you i wanted you more than what you think‬
‪or would you not, ‬
‪because i'm not what you need?‬

a new life to live,
with someone whom i love.
though how can i be sure,
of the person i have become?

it's still a battle between selfishness,
and letting go, the good and the bad,
the loved and unloved.
does anyone know what any of these mean?

thoughts are still scrambled,
but there's a new life to live.
the new chapter, the new memories.
a life that shall be well-lived.

i still continue to write about you,
but no, it's not about how much i love you anymore,
or the way we danced at our bedroom floor,
or how it felt the way we kissed,
no, those are not thoughts to be missed.

i still continue to write about you.
though it's not about how it felt when we first held hands,
or how home was never home without your face at glance,
it's not about how you made me laugh at 2am,
but made me cry at 3pm.

i still continue to write about you.
but it's not about you anymore,
it's about the happiness we shared, the firsts we gave.
the memories we made, the chances we will never take again.

each puff i exhale,
with ragged breathe i take,
each one represents the echoes of yesterday,
the screaming,
the pain,
the anger i felt when you got up and said, "i'm done" and i said, "okay".
i inhale the sweet nicotine,
eyes closed,
feeling the melancholic sense that maybe, i shouldn't have let that one go,
exhale the smoke,
the heartache,
the state of denial when that fist hit the dry wall in our room,
the suprise i felt,
when the hands that held me gently,
now left purple bruises on my chest.
i inhale again,
and forgot that the man i once loved,
is the man who'll hurt me in the end.