I remember telling you
that it will take 21 days
of constant conversations
til you become a part of my routine
til you become a habit

We went beyond the 21 days.
You became a habit
you became a routine.
And it worked.
But only for me.
And not for you.

Now, I keep telling myself
it will only take me 21 days--
to stop longing for your kisses
to stop thinking about your face
to stop romanticizing the time we had
to stop missing you
to break the habit.

I have 19 days left
But ****,
this feels like it will take forever

She is a sweeper
She swept everything
Under the brown fuzzy rug
In her living room.

Old magazines
books
newspapers
Old photographs
records
love letters.

She swept them all
Under the brown fuzzy rug
In her living room.

One day
It turned into a hill.
All the things she swept
under the brown fuzzy rug
in her living room
turned into a hill.

But she didn't mind.
She kept sweeping
old friendships
romantic relationships
truth
lies
feelings
regrets
mistakes
apologies
forg­iveness
into the hill
under the brown fuzzy rug
in her living room.

The next day
The hill turned into a mountain
She didn't mind
And kept sweeping
Until it exploded

Broken hardwood floor
Burnt brown fuzzy rug
Everything scattered
In her living room.

She stood there
In the middle of the aftermath
Thinking
“Do i throw these all away?"

But she's a sweeper.
So she cleaned the mess
Swept everything back again
Under a new brown fuzzy rug
Laying on her basement floor.

There is struggle in every beginning.
What to write in these blank pages?

We get stuck in every white space we see
We stop in every blank space
We stare
We try to start

Words don't come easy

We struggle for ideas
We fumble for words

The thought process stops.

Catharsis.

The ideas flood our brains
The ideas pour
The brain leaks of ideas
But we struggle for structure

For there is none in these blank pages, white spaces
There is none.

We try to achieve form and flow
But there are none
All we have are fragments
of thoughts
of words

It's a stacatto of ideas.

Without rhythm
Without melody
Without harmony
For there are none in these blank pages
There are none in these white spaces

The words
are just lines
are just dots
are just strokes
that will never make sense

In these white spaces
In these blank pages

This beautiful mess.

is the color of
the ocean
the sky
the sails
of the boats
in the island where we met.

Blue
is the color of
your shirt
your eyes
that day we took a stroll
along the shore.

Blue
is the color of
the moon
that night we kissed.

Blue
is the color of
that day you left
without saying
goodbye.

Blue
is the color of
my (broken) heart.

Tear my heart, if you must
If that's what it takes
To show you how broken I am
Shatter my ribs, if you must
If that's what it takes
To tell you how hurt I am

Hold my hands as you do it
Tie my legs
Pin me down
Mask my mouth
Chain my body

Just don't look me in the eye
So I won't see
I won't see hope
I won't see love
I won't see life

Break me quickly
End it easy.

You were my beacon
as I was yours
You were my guide
in this endless tunnel
this engulfing darkness
And I was yours
But farther and farther, you moved
fainter and fainter, you became
And as I follow you
I grew dimmer
Dimmer until
I was a beacon no more
I kept still and watched
Watched you til you were
a beacon no more
Just a small patch of
A small patch of light
A fading light
A faded light

The puzzle breaks into pieces again
The pieces shake and scatter
themselves on the floor
The picture is no longer vivid
It shatters
The bits no longer connect
The parts no longer attach
Is it falling apart?
Or is it, a new whole, falling together?

His love
Was as fleeting
As that summer
We met.

How can you forgive something
that has never been apologized for?
It's an undeveloped photograph
It's an unfinished sentence
It's a working draft

How can you forget something
that has never been remembered?
It's an unopened package
It's a safe without a key
It's a lost baggage

It keeps you searching
It keeps you longing
It keeps you deciphering
The question
The answer
The password
It keeps you hanging
It keeps you wondering
It keeps you waiting for
The closure
The end
The full stop

You need a period not a comma
You need an end not a pause
You need closure
You need conclusion
Because you need
A new sentence
A new stanza
A new chapter

A beginning from an ending

I can see the sea in your eyes.
He said.
I wish I could see the sea with my eyes.
She said.

Step one.
Open the top drawer of that dresser dad gave as a moving out present.
Step two.
Look for the keys. Yes, the one marked Yale. That tiny one.
Step three.
Under your bed, find that metal box you bought as your money safe.
Step four.
Open the box. Insert the key, twist, open the box.
Step five.
See all the memories and money you kept in. Find the notebook labeled “unsettling".
Step six.
Read everything you wrote. Read them until you remember. The exact moments, people, places, and feelings. Read every decisions. Read every mistakes. Read every regrets.
Step seven.
Feel everything. Feel the hate, love, indifference. Feel the feeling or the lack thereof.
Step eight.
Admit to yourself that everything is unsettling.
Step nine.
Return the journal. Lock the box.
Step ten.
Make tea. Drink it.
Step eleven.
Relax. Calm down.

It's settled.
You finally settled it.
There's something unsettling.

I ache for the ocean
I long for the sea

I desire for the coast
the shore
the sand
I crave for the tide
the current
the rip

I ache for the ocean
I long for the sea

I yearn for the reef
the deep
the bed
I hunger for the swim
the surf
the dive

I ache for the ocean
I long for the sea

I bleed
I breathe
I live
for the waters
the horizon can see.

my walls
crumbling down
my reservations
fading
my guards
dismantling.

I can feel
my heart
my mind
my body
my soul
opening up
for you.

I ask myself whether
this is good or bad.

I feel terrified
I am terrified

Of what I feel
For you.

If feelings can be held, then I dare you to hold mine.
I dare you to catch it with your bare hands.
I dare you to hold it tight.
I dare you to put it in your pocket.
I dare you to wear it on your sleeve.

If feelings can be heard, then I dare you to hear mine.
I dare you to catch its every whisper.
I dare you to hear its screams, its laughter, its sighs.
I dare you to hear its cries.
I dare you to hear it echo through your ears.
I dare you to listen to its pleading.

If feelings can be seen, then I dare you to see mine.
I dare you to look it in the eyes.
I dare you to stare at its wholeness.
I dare you to witness its unfolding.
I dare you to marvel at its being.
I dare you not to blink as it looks at you back.
I dare you to let it see beneath your soul.
I dare you to see its light.

And if these feelings can be felt, I dare you to feel mine.
I dare you to snuggle its warmth.
I dare you to shiver at its coldness.
I dare you to feel its corners, its edges, its curves.
I dare you to feel its beating.
I dare you to feel its breathing.
I dare you to feel it.
I dare you to feel its feelings.

I dare you to feel it.
I dare you to feel.
I dare you.

I wrote your name
Once
Twice
Thrice
'Til I memorized it.
I wrote your name
Ten times
A hundred times
A million times
'Til it didn't look familiar anymore.

The idea that,
once in our lives, our lines met,
and no matter how brief
it was striking,
it was beautiful,
is enough for me.

An eyelash on my cheek.
I caught it and blew it.
With the wind.
A star shoots across the sky.
I tied a knot.
A four-leaf clover.
I almost stepped on it.
11:11.
Says my Casio digital watch.
A coin lying on the sidewalk.
I flipped it down the well.

Fingers crossed.
Eyes closed.

I feel lucky.
I wish for you.

I feed from the leftovers
I breathe from the exhales
I stay on the undertones
I stand on the peripheries
I linger on the outliers
Of your thoughts
Your words
Your energy
Your soul.
I never get the middle
The center
The core
The wholeness
Of your thoughts
Your words
Your energy
Your soul.

You gave me a glass jar
We collected fireflies and put them inside
We admired them every night.
Only the two of us understood
what the flicker of the tiny lights meant.

Only the two of us understood.

One day, we walked down the beach
We walked by a stranger whose eyes
sparkled like our glass jar.
I lost my mind
I dropped our jar
I gave the stranger our fireflies
I thought he was worthy.

You ran away with tears in your eyes
and wounds in your hand
from all the broken pieces of our glass jar.

As I tried catching up, I stepped on broken glass
I hurt myself
I stopped chasing you
I let you go and went after the stranger with the sparkly eyes.

For a moment, I forgot about you and our jar and our fireflies.

One day, it rained.
The stranger left and I felt my wounds fresh again.
I thought about you and our jar and our fireflies.
I missed you.
It hurt and I cried and I promised
not to collect fireflies anymore.

I haven't seen fireflies or sparkly eyes since then.

Six hundred and seventy three days passed
I went back to the ocean and saw the broken pieces of our glass jar
The wounds are now healed but I still miss you
I picked up the pieces and glued them back together
I sent them back to you in a box with a bow
"This is yours", I said
I did not wait for a response.

One day, I saw you holding our empty jar
You were looking at me
I looked back, holding my tears
I moved close and I saw
There were no tears, no pain, no anger in your eyes anymore

I moved closer 'cos I thought I saw your eyes sparkle
I thought about our fireflies
And in that moment I realized

It was you all along
It was not the stranger with the sparkly eyes
It was you
It is you
You are my fireflies.

We tiptoe into the unknown
figuring out where to go
where our legs will take us
we walk slowly into the woods
we hike up to the hills the mountains
we walk briskly right by the ocean the sea
we cross rivers streams
we jump off a cliff a waterfall
we jump over boulders puddles holes and cracks
we run
we run swiftly to
where the roads meet
where the concrete ends
where the dirt begins
we run down the path without a path
we run into the horizon where the sun rises and sets
we run
we hold hands
we walk
we slow down
we stop
we stand there
we find
that place
that moment
it is where we're supposed to be
you
me
us.
Our rugged soles.

Sadness is easy.
Sadness is fluid.

Sadness is a teardrop
that flows
to a river
Sadness flows.

Sadness is the rain
that pours
on a Sunday afternoon
Sadness pours.

Sadness is a long drive
in a strech of a road
without trees
without people
without houses
Sadness stretches
Sadness is never ending.

Sadness is looking outside
the airplane window
seeing nothing
but clouds
no ground
no greens
no blues.

Sadness is looking up
at the sky
at the vast dark sky
without stars
without clouds
without the moon.

Sadness is the abyss
Sadness is blank
Sadness is flat
Sadness is stagnant
Sadness is easy.

The remote control looks different
Television has 20 new channels
The side table is not on the right side of the long bench anymore
Her favorite mug is now a vase
Her spoon and fork are not in the drawer
No cookie crisps in the cupboard
No kimchi in the fridge
Things were different from when she still lived here
Things were different from three years ago

Everyone is soundly sleeping upstairs
Her old room is now her cousin's
Her old bed is now her sister's
She will sleep on the floor
But she couldn't find the mattresses
She doesn't know where to look
But she looks everywhere
She couldn't find it
Exhaustion and frustration seeps in
“Where are the mattresses?"
She screams in her head
Tears start streaming down her cheeks

She wants to sleep now
She wants to rest
She wants to feel home.
But she doesn't. She couldn't.
She doesn't know where the sheets are
She couldn't find where the sheets are.

“I don't live here anymore. This is not home."

I heard a song.
I think of you,
Of us.

She wanted to swim
If only her crutches
Let her.

times when I feel awfully low
and all I want to do is embrace you
and bury my face in your shoulders
and feel your nape
and your back
and the curve at the back of your waist.

Just the thought of your smell
and your touch
and the tingling I feel
when my skin meets yours
is enough.