She paints smiles on people's faces But she can't paint one for herself
Day by day, she tries Everyday, she fails
Until she came up with an idea of painting her last canvas She wants it to be memorable and so she did it
Not with a brush, but with a razor Not on a paper, but on her wrist And the colors were not pastels nor watercolors, but it was red. It was blood. And it spilled Til it was too much.
True enough, her masterpiece was remembered It was seen as a symbol of sin by some, some say it's simply tragic some try to understand --and for her that's art-- Something that tells a story sad and beautiful at the same time
*The painter wanted to be a masterpiece And so she became one
They say we die a thousand times before our hearts stop beating I agree
One is the sigh of a person giving up on you Another is the grasp of a loved one fading away When you walk away and no one calls your name You die again when you hear the goodbye of a person you thought would stay You die the minute you realized you wasted your life on someone or something that isn't even going to happen When someone you thought cares forgets your birthday, You die a little bit but live on anyway You die when someone you knew so well becomes a stranger & when someone you love doesn't even bother to know you You die when you feel you're never good enough You die again when there's no hope after all that's said and all that's done You die every time someone leaves and when someone dies, you die with them
You die a thousand times before your heart stops And even after that, when one by one people start to forget you, **you die again
I've been scribbling words about you, I haven't looked at the clock til now - it's 17 minutes past 7. I may be late for work.
I have written several nonsense letters, wondering if I already wasted more ink than I should, thinking how many of these words have you already heard, and doubting if they would mean something more once you read them.
These words, these are the things I want you to know but would never tell you.
But these words, they don't really matter, do they? These words can't make you stay, or flinch even.
Because the things you told me that matter, they didn't. And even if they did, we won't do anything about it.
they say opposites attract but what they don't say is damage seeks out damage
we both know this is temporary we'll never gonna choose each other
we are asymptotes staying close to each other; would never gonna cross the line or would we?
maybe we're perpendicular lines we'd cross the line once but that's it or is it?
maybe we're each other's point b each other's end point but i doubt that
I think I know what we are We are black splats or stains hiding in each other's blind spots
we see each other when we want to
hide each other when we want to
and I am tired of being your temporary cure because healing you is like alcohol it kills me but gets me addicted makes me miserable yet happy healing you is like being offered space cakes no matter how hard i try to convince everyone it's harmless, it destroys it builds me up then lets me down makes me feel everything then nothing at all
i don't know how it happened all of a sudden then all at once
we both know this won't last please erase me wash the stain open both your eyes let go
whatever we think we have let it die
---
let This die but dont forget
we'll stay close enough to keep each other warm but not too much to let each other burn
my body's tired from doing tasks that I have no passion for my eyelids are getting heavier by the minute, like no amount of coffee can ever keep me awake i am drained; the kind of exhaustion that neither sleep nor food can ever cure
my teachers say they're preparing us for something bigger i worry about my sleep debts but i worry more about passing i just hope that the "bigger thing" is worth more than my health
yet here i am writing this poem that has nothing to do with the things i am required to pass but at least it has no format, it has no rules; & more importantly, i have no one to please
for my professors this poem is a waste of time for them, this poem doesn't matter but it does it does to *me
I don't know whether you really left a scent Or I just remember your smell But it sure smells like you Or it sure smells like memories
I wore this tonight because it's cold I remember how your hugs gave me warmth Now all I got are chills And this sweater that doesn't even fit
I wore it a couple of times before I wore it one Friday night It reminded me of how we used to go out on movies and eat whatever we like, but mostly candies and chocolates and cold coffee and ice cream
I wore it one hot afternoon Weird, I know Maybe I just want to feel you or I just want to remember how it felt I miss being cuddled But being near to a piece of clothing that once was yours is the closest and only thing I got Better than none, I guess
I wore it on our anniversary It was sure a heck better if I celebrated it with you But nope, all I got were mementos and high hopes, and this sweater along with other things that don't fit your shirts - too big for my frame my thoughts - too messy for my brain memories - too overwhelming for my heart
I hope you find the love you deserve - The kind of love that makes every atom in your body feel adored, the kind of love that makes life worth living, the kind of love that greets you good morning and always awake; and kisses you good night but never sleeps, the kind of love that makes you enjoy the rain and dance under the stars never worrying about catching a cold because this kind of love also provides you warmth. I hope you find love, and if it's taking too long... I hope it finds you.
I thought about it on and on and on and on and on and again Til I realized I am my own before I am anyone else's I am free But I am scared of being too free
A lot of people told me When you passed away That I may have lost one good soul But the sky gained another angel
I promised you before you took your last breath, I will look for you I will make you fall in love with me again, whatever it takes I will not get tired
But I am getting tired,
"How high do I have to be before I can say I already am in the sky?" "How far do I have to reach before I can say that I am already touching a cloud and not just mere water and air?" "How high is the sky?" "How far do I have to fly before I meet you again?"
*And as I take my last breath, I knew, the sky is not too far
there are four stages of healing wounds 1. your red blood cells will form a blood clot to stop the bleeding; then your wound would be swollen 2. white blood cells capture and fight rogue bacteria 3. fibroblast cells would enter, drop collagen and form connective tissues again 4. your skin will connect and contract and be out much stronger than before
but among all wounds, a broken heart is the hardest to heal 1. your heart will not be swollen, it would be numb, and there will be days when you don't even know if you still have it. it would be a black hole for quite some time, it will **** anything and everything you used to love and leave you with nothing 2. you won't have the capability to fight rogue bacteria if anything you may actually succumb yourself with it; sometimes you may even let it control you until you forget that you own yourself 3. and then when it hits you, you will feel everything again all at once - the pain of lost love, melancholy, longing. you will realize how much you have loved and how much you have lost. now what you do is you bounce back, but how? 4. at this stage you must already be stronger than what you used to be, but for broken hearts, this may take a while, or it may take bottles and a lot more bottles of alcohol, or it may need a quiet moment for you to think straight, some just let time heal it. but the good thing is, healing a broken heart is actually a choice. yet unlike all other wounds, it can be fixed in two ways 1. you seek for someone who can hold your hand while you fix yourself 2. you fix yourself alone
I'll treat the lines of your hands as road maps; your fingerprints as busy intersections
I wanna get lost in every corner of your body exploring ‘til I see darkness and cobwebs on the insides of your ribcage
I wanna see every broken piece of your heart; and mend them together, one by one, slowly and surely
I wanna get lost in your mind and hear your every thought Your opinions, your dreams, your frustrations, and your sweet pillow talk (I bet they’ll all be fascinating and depressing at the same time)
I’ll stay at the corners of your mouth Your lips will be my pillow and bed, your words will be my bedtime stories
I wanna memorize your scars, and examine them I’ll figure out everything behind every mark, and know how they made you stronger
Your clavicle will be my resting place after I travel through your veins
I’ll spend a week looking in your eyes, determining whether they’re black or a hue of dark hazelnut
I will travel along the lines of your face, and observe how these lines wiggle as you smile, or frown, or cry
I’ll climb to the bridge of your nose, and be amazed to see everything clearly
I’ll drop by your liver and comfort it every time you gulp a six pack beer
I’ll pass by your lungs and clean it after you finish a pack of cigars
I’ll protect you I’ll accept everything that you are
It will take me forever to know every tiny detail of your body, but I’m gonna love it I am sure because *I don't mind getting lost as long as it's in you
and he was the thunder who keeps on chasing after her never really getting tired no matter how many times he misses
who knows? maybe one day when he's a bit faster and she's a bit closer and the wind and the heat the electrons and the charges all agree, they will meet they will dance and all the earth will hear them shout
*because after all thunder is alive only because there's lightning