You lied.
You said you'd be leaving the country,
But you lied.
I still find pieces of you
everywhere I go.

You're the song that comes on the radio in taxis, begging to be missed.
I know it's you when my hands start itching to grab my phone to see if you messaged me.
Everytime I hear my phone ring,
For a moment I swear it was your name that flashed on the screen.


You lied.
You said you left the country,
But why is it that everytime
I look for you,
I always find you
in my heart?

His lips are clean
Of coffee breath
And cigarettes

His hands are clean
From holding hands
And one night stands.

His shoes are clean
Of ***** stains
From liquor chains.

Yet his tongue,
Indulged in lies
Promises turned into goodbyes.

His mind is a clutter
His lips have uttered
Names of girls who do not matter.

I miss your face
Don't get me started about your smile.
I miss your hands
I haven't held them in a while.
I miss your lips
I'm not going to lie.
I miss your voice
Even if you'll call to say 'Hi'.
I miss your arms
And how you'd wrap them around me.
I miss your scent
It's synonymous to home and safety.
I miss your warmth,
most of all, most of all.
And I'd still miss you
Even if you'll call.
I know it's idiotic for me to miss your existence
When you call me with consistence,
But baby, it's not the time;
It's the distance.

I loved a man
with all my heart
and he said
he loved me back.

But months later
he went with her
so now my heart
has a crack.

A crack so wide,
it could swallow
you whole, like all
I ever wanted to be.

Now everyday,
I suffer the truth
That who he wants
Has never been me.

The way you stare
as if the galaxies
are right in front of you.

The way you smile,
like you've discovered
a new type of hue.

Too bad you're looking at her,
and
not me.

I long to memorize
every thing you tell me.
Every word you say late at night when
your brain turns drunk even if you're sober.

I want to inject your words into my veins
so the moment you walk out of my life,
I could cut my skin open and
bleed your words out.
Just like that.

I want to kiss you in the middle of your sentences
that I can taste your words
and transfer them into my system.
So the moment you regret ever saying them,
I could shove a finger down my throat
and force them out just like that.

These are things I'm willing to do,
To let you know
That with every word that comes out of your mouth,
Bitter or sweet,
Is a stab in my gut.
Not at the moment,
but once you leave.

Things are different with you;
Loving you is like writing again
After a long time of being idle.
I've written on so many pages before,
And wrote a lot of poetry.
But my hands can't seem to
Stop trembling as I write on these pages once again.

It's not because I'm terrified this poetry might turn out badly,
(Although the possibility's alarmingly huge)
But because it's been a while since I've written again,
And I'm unsure if I can create a masterpiece,
Because I want to.
But my hands won't stop shaking.