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Dawn Nov 2020
coffee may taste bitter and sweet. sometimes it's a combination of both, bittersweet. just like love, there are days that we would find it sweet, filled with joy and times we could feel these butterflies in our stomach. sometimes it's bitter, feeling pain, getting hurt, and tired eyes because of crying.

but often times with our coffee, we tend to get our tongues burned by its heat. sometimes we have tasted the unpleasant flavor of it. but have you thought of it? it takes time in getting the coffee's perfect taste, the perfect mixture and blend. just like love again, we pass through bitter pasts and heartaches. we experience different situations and hurdles when it comes to love. these matters that nurtures and guides us until we could finally meet our perfect one. the perfect mix. that blend that we would always come to love.
Dawn Nov 2020
i’ve done count back from 10, remembering how we used to spend all of our times together. in 9, which you always whisper that loving me was the best thing you’ve ever made in your life. 8 in the morning where you cuddle me first before getting up from our little love nest. in 7, i saw those gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at me. when i’ve counted back at 6, we shared the common goals and dreams at life. for 5, that i was already standing five meters away from you. with 4, i heard that someone was calling your name. in 3, that wrecked and ripped my heart into three then into bits of tiny pieces. within 2, warm liquids fell and roll down my cheeks— i was already crying because of you. and lastly i stopped at 1, and realized that everything doesn’t lasts if you’re still not the person that was meant for me. with there, 𝘪 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦.
Dawn Nov 2020
"i can't have her close so i become a ghost." he said.

with him and his words i never imagined i would perhaps find a way, scribbling my pen wishing to write him a letter with my thoughts and heart's content.

he said that he became a ghost and now i want to fulfill him with my words, words that'll make his soul come back to his body.

i wished for him to be whole, put those shattered pieces of him as i want him to know that even if she was the reason why he has become to what he is right now, i am more than willing enough to take her part and share my soul and flesh to him. more than willing enough to risk pieces of me and share the love i've built for myself through words and poetry when he hasn't came back to his own.

and maybe, i hoped that at the very least, i could make him feel whole again.
Dawn Nov 2020
like yesterday you told me that you were a fan of books and stories. with there i tried to write a book about us.

lately i have realized that even if the book is about us, it's like the whole book is just dedicated for you.

i read almost every page of my creation and you on the other hand was reading a book about two people who fell in love with each other because of their fondness in reading books and writing.

i conclude that with the book that you read is you think about us. but i saw no thrill in your eyes after you've read it.

and then a thought dawned over my head, i assumed too much. i thought we were on the same page. but then it hits me and i remembered.

i remembered that both of us were reading different books.
Dawn Feb 2019
thousand of rhymes scattered on my blank sheets. every syllable holds the memory of battles that i've faced and will be facing, spilling my very soul on every piece that i've scribbled hoping it will be the metaphors to relieve my withering verses. i was nothing but a bleeding warrior— a bleeding poet with the paper as my shield, my heart and emotions as the ink, and a pen that will serve as the sword in this big battlefield.

but i was never alone in this battlefield. along with this journey, i had my comrades who did also possessed a heart that bleeds. allowing these very feelings and voices to flow from thy hearts. as our words were written down it has formed a life. thus, i've always thought that pen is indeed mightier than a sword. and if you did asked me why, it's simple. the pen has a huge and far-reaching impact while a sword does only have a short reach. and so we've made the pen as our weapon to stop wars and to create peace. using it to change hate into love and using it to also fight for friendship.

these words and verses sure could heal or ****, either start or quash a strife.

we are nothing but the bleeding warriors who wields the power of writing. the users of words and emotions, again with the pen to create new life and letting it be an eye-opener. we are the defenders of the underrated, illuminators to darkness, and fighters of the words unsaid. the chaotic emptiness of our papers that requires to be filled and fought; the blood we've spilled in the battlefield, our words as the blade, and the verses and rhymes we've created to build a fortress and shield.

we are the ones who breathe and live for poetry and literature. the ones who have no hesitations to cut down our souls, to tear down our faith so long as we could still bleed to create a masterpiece, and a life-changing chance for ourselves and to everyone. we have hidden a lot. from every composition and lines created, it held and hid the voices of pain, sorrow, anger, hate, retribution, change, and feelings. with these voices and words that are hidden and unsaid, it revealed the unfamiliar to familiar minds with the help of us, the bleeding warriors.

and until now, i keep on bleeding. i keep on writing. but i have as well devoted my life along with them— along with the writers of the society, the voice of the voiceless. and if ever my life had and would come to an end, sure it would be with full glory and might.
Dawn Feb 2019
crowned herself with a heartache
she can never be in euphoria
has something gone wrong
looks like she have lost her way

crowned herself with a heartache
with numbness and memories
a torture that was intense
she needs peace

again crowned with a heartache
the bubbly presence
that disappeared easily
craving for acceptance

crowned with heartache
her tears that kept on rolling
a heart that keeps on tearing
with darkness that overtakes a soul.

and now just crown her with a heartache
that she’ll use as a story to write
with just words on paper and yesterday’s stanza
torn and scattered on the winds


— The End —