I asked him, "When will I be set free?"

He grinned, "Very soon."

After years of 'very soon', I stopped asking.

It was then that he broke my silence,
"Will you not ask when will this be over?"

I chuckled, I am now wiser.
"How can I ever escape from my demons?"

I always count with my fingers all the years you've been gone.
Now I realize I am getting short handed
I need more than both of my hands.
Everyone tells me you are never going to come back.
I know it in myself but I will keep on waiting.
All those letters you have made for me I still read.
I know every word and punctuation you have written.
My sole picture of you have slowly faded through time
But never will my love.
I still remember in my mouth the taste of your lips as you bade me farewell.
I still remember what your hands felt as you caressed my cheeks and sweetly said;
“I will come running back home to you, I promise."
But you never did, didn't you?
Why must our love also be a casualty of the war?

I am finally giving up--
on the thought that I am not good enough,
because I fought an arduous battle
to keep the real me intact.

I am done with everything--
that dragged me lower than I already am,
I must keep on going up despite these
rocks that burden my climb.

I am finished living--
in fear of what the ends will be,
because I will start moving forward
and greet the uncertainty with glee.

I am through with saying I can do it--
and start acting upon it.

I write because—
A sudden pause.
Why do you write?
There is a reason to it right?

"For pain!" they might say,
"For fame!" cries another.
"For glory!" they might argue
"For defeat." some would bother.

Why do you write?
A student giggled, "For class to be dismissed."
"Oh because you exist." A romantic chanted.

The metaphors you paint vividly,
letters and punctuations you bring closer.
What urges you to bring into existence,
Works of art from bleeding hearts.

Why do you really write?

because I feel, yet they tell me I am numb
because I learn, yet they show me I am dumb
They tell me I should change my mind,
As I am only wasting my time.

I write because...
there's a thousand reasons that I shouldn't but a million more that tells me I should.

I hope you learn to love your own skin,
through your own eyes and nobody else's.
See your beauty that lies within,
Awaken self-love after a lifetime of being selfless.

Who are they for you to please,
Those past bruises and scars can't be undone.
Be your own work of art—a masterpiece,
before you belong to anyone.

(reverse poetry)

I don't think about you anymore.
I'd be lying if I say,
I miss every inch of you
Because
You are nothing to me now
And it's not true that
My entirety
Gave life to
Your love—
Always remember that
The pain we've caused each other
Is greater than
My love for you