sometimes i wonder what it's like to be a washcloth.
once a washcloth has been greasy and worn out,
someone who appreciates its worth takes it out from the workshop,
rubs it clean
removes all the grime, the dirt, the grease, the impurity
soaks it in a tub full of soap and warm water
then laid out to enjoy the breeze
and embrace the warmth of the sun
to start fresh, to start anew, to feel brand new again.
a clean slate for the washcloth; a repetitive process until it has been worn out on its last string.

i wonder what it's like to be a washcloth.
to be able to wring out all the scars, the wounds, the wickedness
and start anew every time.

but i guess that's what makes us human.
all the battle scars will remain as a lesson,
all the wickedness situated upon us will always convey a message,
and all the pain will serve its reminder that there is a brighter tomorrow.

but sometimes,
i can't help but wonder
what it's like to be a washcloth.

months have passed.
i am certain that i’m over you now,
however sometimes in the most random time of the day, i miss you.
i don’t know what is it about you that i miss—
was it because you’re a gentleman? was it because of how fond we were of each other? was it because of the secrets we’ve kept?

i still remember the last thing i told you that day:
‘i don’t want to end our friendship just because of what we had.’
you replied, ‘however we have to end what we have for the better of us.’
we both agreed on what we both said, but who would’ve known, that that would be the last time we would talk. you moved away and i haven’t heard a single thing from you since then.

i am writing this because i genuinely miss you as a friend. i just need to get this off my chest; i also hope you are well. and hopefully, this will be the last time i’d write about you.

i don't understand why you had to push me away.
i don't understand why you had to keep on running away;
where the pressure for commitment came from;
where the idea of 'you deserve better' came from.
i loved you despite your flaws; despite the shortcomings.
i loved you despite the fact that loving you means i have no assurance; that the future for the both of us is unclear.
i loved you even though that means i have to wait for nothing at all.
loving you meant i have nothing to hold on to.
loving you meant i had to take a risk.

i never expected anything from you.
i just wanted you to appreciate me for who i am; to acknowledge the love i have given you.
but all you did was to push me away; to shut me down; to tell me to love someone else.
recently, all i've felt is that i have to prove myself to you:
just so you could realise that i am worth your time;
that things could work between us.

i still don't understand why you had to push me away when i've always chosen to see the best in you. all you've chosen to see in me was the burden of my affection for you.

you made me realise that indeed,
love has no boundaries;
love has no limits;
that love has no borders;
and love is not confined.
my love,
i will forever be grateful for what you taught me.
fate, however, had different plans for us.
we are just another star-crossed lovers
whose paths are destined to meet
but ends up in different ways.

i am reading poems—
all of it reminds me of you.
so i thought,
why not write one about you?

let me write the sorrow i feel during your absence;
the pain i feel is an absolute madness.
let me write about the butterflies;
those eyes will always leave me hypnotised.
let me write about the comfort;
your way with words will always be a sunburst.

it’s midnight and my mind is racing
these thought of you left my mind baffling;
i have seen you in so many concepts,
i have portrayed you in so many stories
but i don’t know how to start.
i don’t know where to begin.

why do i find comfort in you?
you are a perfect stranger.
why is it that i find peace in your eyes
when in fact,
our eyes have never met.
how is it that i find assurance in your voice
but all you've sang about is her?
why do i call your arms 'home'?
by no means i've ever experienced home.