I now don't mind that
you look at me as if
I were glass.

Because when I started
looking at you the same,

my vision has never been so clear.

You like the way I make you feel.
You like the fact that I am always there,
always listening, always comforting.
You like the way I make you laugh.
You like how I give you advises.
You like it when I prove you wrong
and when I ride with your adventures.
You like that I can sing with or for you.
You like how I see and understand things.
You like a lot of things about me
but that doesn't mean you like me.

Do you even notice when I'm around?
Do you feel that certain aura,
that butterflies and sparks and
all of those that I cannot describe?
Does your heart beat out of your chest
when I hold your hand or look at you in the eyes?
Did you smile too when I said yes?
Do you see me in your dreams?
Do you wish that those dreams were real?
Do you wish we'd stay this way-
Happy
Peaceful
In love?

Or is it just me?

I like looking at people
looking at another person.

Sometimes, in their eyes you see

Awe,
wonder,
understanding,
confusion,
agreement,

Love.

Wi­ll anyone ever look at me like that?

The mornings were beautiful
and the nights were lovely.

    That was when you were still here.

Now,

mornings are just sunlight beams
hitting my eyes forcing me to wake up
and nights are just the moon and stars
reminding me of you.

   Come back.

   I need my mornings and nights back.

   *I need you.

And in another life,
how'd you think we'll
meet again?

Will we meet in a different
dimension, or in a different
planet perhaps?

Or will we meet inside
the rabbit hole and
never leave each other?

Will we ever meet at all?

It would be nice
   to see you once again,
      but then, I am at peace
         during your absence.

This time,
   I'll choose peace
      instead of nice.

Tell me a story of how the world started
and I will tell you the story of how it will end.

Well, for instance, this world is made from
broken pieces of collision held together by gravity.
Beautiful isn't it? To sustain a life, though broken,
by being grounded. "It's a failed star," I read once.
Maybe, but it's no less than a marvel.

There are many possible ways it could end.
My favorite is the sun collapsing and turning
into a blackhole. What? It could happen.
Anyway, being ****** into dark abyss is scary, yes
but I am dying to know what's on the other side.
Excuse the pun. What if it's a gateway through something
more breathtaking than where we are today?

You told me the beginning and I told you the end.

What we don't know is there couldn't even be one.
Just a blurry transition in time, reliving it over
and over and over again.

"That's what my thoughts
sounded like. Like the
Nothern lights.
Sad and unreachable."*

He read from the book
I gave to him.

And he looked at me as if
I am the Northern lights.

He couldn't have been
more right.

I write for people who's dear for me
and for people I'm dear to.

And I haven't
              written
                    anything
                       for
                           a
                               long
                                     time

When I first saw you,
I was blinded and saw
bokeh lights and
a fuzzy silhouette.

You came closer and
I felt your warmth as
if you're the Nothern Star
and I'm on the way home.

Whenever I see fire,
I see you and you started
something in my heart
that felt like those little
fireworks you hold every
new year.

I thought your flames
would stay and your
embers won't go out.

But it's winter again and
I've never felt the wind
this cold.

It made me shiver so hard,
it chilled my bones.

Before, when I was asked
to point the way home,
I used to point south,
beyond the trees, where
castles lay hidden.

Before, when I was asked
to point the way home,
I used to point a street,
where the red roof and
white fences stood.

Yesterday, when I was asked
to point the way home,
I pointed you,
my love, my refuge, my sanctuary
before you crumbled back to earth.

Earlier, when I was asked
to point the way home,
I pointed to the stars,
up there, away from here.

Now, you're asking me to
point the way home,
I am pointing at myself.

I've burned my bridges
to the past; I didn't know
it knew how to swim.

Don't sing me songs
if you have no intention
to stay,

because once it is sang,
there is no going
away.

When was the last time
you just lied on your back
and look at the sky?

The last time you actually
noticed how clouds look like
little islands on the vast sea?

The last time you noticed
the blueness of it all?

When was the last time you
stopped to look up and feel awed?

Do you even remember?

I was fine you know.

Eventually, I got over it.
I filled the hole that you left
the day you decided that you'd
never want anything with me anymore.

We kept it silent.
Our friends, they never really felt
the cold air hanging between us,
just like they never felt the spark we once had.
Are those sparks even real?
Or am I just imagining things?

Life was tougher than it already was
when college started and you were
never around anymore.

I watched you grow fond of your new life,
how happy you looked without me in the picture,
without me acting as dead weights over your ankles.

Then I decided,
I could be happy again.

I was fine without you before,
I will be fine without you now.

And you know what?

I was right.

I met new people and
they brought me back to life.
They made me feel wanted
and appreciated and special.
They invited me over dinner
and movies and parties.
They were there when I got
my first tattoo, when my birthday
came, they surprised me.

I was happy again.

Why do you have to ruin that?

Why do you have to come running
back to me?

Why do I keep opening up my door for you?

Why do I keep wishing you'd stay?

Why did you make me want you again?

I was happy.

HAPPY.
GENUINELY HAPPY.

Why did you have to take it away?

Why did you make me fall for you again,
when we both know you will never catch me.

I was fine without you.

Why did you have to erase
the progress I made?

And in my dreams,
you still called my name,
you still let it sting your tongue
and burned your throat,
you still smiled at me.

In my dreams,
you still tell me tales,
you still draw the stars
in my palms everytime
you hold them.

In my dreams,
I still exist to you
and you still
exist to me.

Too bad my dreams
never come true.