I am so tired of endings
I don't wanna start anything at all

I am tired of losing things
I don't wanna feel like having anything at all

I am so used to being lost
I don't wanna be found anymore

I am tired of faking smiles
I don't know what's real anymore

I am so used of being broken
I feel nothing at all

My soul is like a garden -
some parts are full of flowers
some parts are full of weeds

I will keep on writing
until I run out of words
until I run out of thoughts
I will keep on writing
until I can no longer
write your name
I will keep on writing
until I can forget
like how you did
or like what you're doing

I will keep on writing
until I can no longer feel
whatever it is you made me feel
I will keep on writing
until I can no longer read
the words you have written
that I've assumed
are for me

I will keep on writing
I will write you away
I will write the pain away

I will keep on writing
until my heart accepts
until these what ifs stop
until these maybes disappear

I will keep on writing
until I can no longer write
about you
about us
about how much
about how late
about how
about what
about when
about why

I will keep on writing
until I can finally put the period
that would end everything

I will keep on writing
until I stop
and when I do stop
you'll know
that even though it was so hard for me
I no longer, nor will ever
write again for you

So here it is
*.

until my soul
fills your lungs
with flowers

until my love
cleanses
the cobwebs
beneath your ribs

until my heart
pumps the blood
your body needs

until my bones
crumble to cover
your veins //

**breathe me in
and never
exhale me out

And like any other phenomena
They were curious about her
"How does she start? Where does she end?" "What is she made of?" "When does she fade?"
Wrote myths and tales about her
"On her edges, there are pots of gold." "And these pots of gold, they are guarded by trolls."

But they cannot figure her out
Like a rainbow on a rainy afternoon
before they even get to know her, she was gone

I will always choose
to break my own heart
than to break others'

I will always put
other people's happiness
before mine

It will always be okay
for my knees to be bruised
for my hands to be scarred
for my mind to be clouded
for my soul to be crushed
just to save others

And that's the sad thing

I've already established
that I come **second

I've given you warmth and comfort, but every time I invite you to stay a little longer, you'd tell me you need to go.  

Now I know what that meant, *I was your shelter but never your home.

She loves puzzles, the nitty-gritty details, and the distinct pieces. She has completed one after another, and another, and another. Yet even after she's done, the complete frame did not make her happy. She's still sad, unfulfilled, incomplete.

*Little did she know, the missing piece is not from the puzzle. The greatest riddle is still herself.

I am but a piece of flower, almost withered, never having seen the sun. And there she was, a tulip, never opening up to anyone. Then there were some that come in groups, like orchids - every color there is. My mom and her friends, a bouquet of sunflowers, always looking up the sun. Partners and colleagues, daisies and stargazers. And every other girl you come across with, angel’s breath, roses, lilies and dahlia.

A planet full of women is a garden.

I've always wondered
why I see you
when I look
at the sky
And then I figured
that the universe
is a graveyard
of all the beautiful things
that once shine so bright

at 18, she fell in love. the kind of love that moved mountains and swam seas. he made her write about relationships, mutual ones like the flowers and the bees

*at 21, she started writing tragedies.

Every poem written
Is a reflection of who you are today

So tell me,
Do you like what you see?

"Thank you for holding my hand while I try to fix myself. But baby, as of this moment, I am burning; and I don't wanna see you turn into ashes just because you love me too much. I don't want you to lose yourself while we try to find me. I don't want to be unfair."

"Then I guess we'll burn together"

And I can blame gravity and fate for falling in love, or endlessly compare you to the moon and the stars; or I can just admit that there's something in you that tells me you're my half - maybe it's the way you fix your hair, or the way you bat your eyes, or the way you walk or the way you speak, or even the way you let me have the last piece of fries.

Funny how we're so scared about the future when tomorrow is not even guaranteed.

I haven't met you yet,
But I will live for you

She's the ocean, people describe her as color blue. But she is not just one color: she's cyan, and turquoise, navy blue, and white. She's green and blue-green and sometimes brown. She's a spectrum of a lot of colors.

She's the ocean, people describe her tides as low and high, shallow and deep; but she isn't just about the extremes, her range cannot be measured by just how she looks like.

She's the ocean, she can tear you apart and drown you when she's angry; but she can also help you sail to safety.

All these I know because I fell in love with her, but I have a lot to learn. *She's the ocean, a lot of parts still unknown.