and you sent her a title of the song you wanted her to hear
saying it was saying about the feelings you have,
you wanted her to feel.

but, she heard it before.

you can't blame her
but she did

she had felt the world dance around the same beat
swayed through the waves of the sounds with the wind
when she was on her way to the beach
one hot summer day.

she had fell asleep on the same song
on a school night
having to wait to be validated.

she have cried on the same song when he left her

now, ask your self:

are the songs really for her?

I once got tired looking for stars at night. Searching for the ones you promised to get me.
I cry for nights I couldn't hold you but I never wanted to
Seek more of you
Because I may not bear feeling the pain

Longing for you was never in my control.
Believe me, I tried chaining myself into a brick wall.
While the change of hearts was like the change of weather, I should have told you to bring an umbrella.
Do we tell stories and details of what hurt us but, what about when we had the matching boxers?

Do you care to jog my memory? Please hold me tight one last time. Please, don't let go of me.

I am here to write what I'm feeling,
Not to make you feel uncomfortable.
I may say things that isn't your liking...
but, maybe, maybe stop. I know it's not adorable.

But please let me be, as it is the way to escape
the pain, the horror, the agony.
I don't mind what you say about me,
so please read this and let me be.

Jealousy used to be a girl with puppy eyes and braided hair.

She lurks around the dark side of the room

Waiting for someone to notice but they kept on denying her existence.



Jealous? No.



That’s all she could hear.



‘Til she grew bigger. She now has longer nails, no... claws.

Her messy curls showed up after taking off her braids.

Longer limbs and shorter temper. She screams loud.



By the back of her head, she wanted to be noticed.

She crawled around the whole room. Asking for attention.

And I noticed her. So is the name she whispers in my ear.



The sound is not loud now, but deafening.

It didn’t have sharp edges, but it cut me through.



That, did not made me bleed and cry. It did not make me weak, or so I thought.

But made me furious. She’s slowly reaching out for my hand. I had doubts but, I reached back to her. She stood, emotionless, while I unconsciously threw a plate across the room. I cried. But not in agony. In anger. For sure. I can feel flames rushing through my veins like a waterfall.



Jealousy is like a monster under the empty bed for so long that it learned how to dream.

Jealousy is like termites, slowly chewing off the walls where I used to carve our names with a small blade, I used to use to cut myself.

Jealousy is a box of “What If’s”

A box full of surprises and one of them... called, “assumptions”

Assumptions you thought were visions of the negative things.

Negative things you’re scared to happen. Or even to think about.



Jealousy thought your fear how to grow bigger.

They’re friends now.

And every walk she makes, Jealousy brought along Fear.

They try to pay you visits in your room, that you seem to stay a lot in now. This is the room where I used to watch cartoons and once fell from the rope you tied on the ceiling. It wasn’t that strong. The rope, the ceiling, and me.



It used to be just short visits, now they got themselves their own sofa bed lying next to your queen-sized mattress.  



But I wanted them to leave.



As I see him packing his bags and opening the bathroom door to get his toothbrush.



I wanted them to leave.



But Jealousy invited a guest.



Jealousy invited Pride.



**He left//

She doesn’t write that much anymore.
The flame inside her slowly burnt out.

She didn’t know how to swim but she loved the ocean.
She once jumped into it, not thinking about drowning.
But she was too eager to get to the bottom.
Death didn’t bother her.
But the fear of emptiness. She was scared to find a empty space below.
An empty space she thought was to fill her up.
With anything.

She’s desperate. She know she wants to do something but can’t
Maybe she can, but how? How exactly can she do it?

Through words on her paper and through her head.
She quietly whisper a familiar name.

Long forgotten.

Yet, it helped.