Do you want me to spell it out?
Or scream it to your face??
The chemistry between us,
Could destroy this place!

FATE,
4 simple words that creates heedless meanings

I saw a beauty in the eyes of my other half.
a beauty that none of us could see with our naked eyes.
in that sudden moment,
fate being that cruel **** they always have
decided to take the only thing that I called mine.

How can I let you go when my heart still bleeds with anger and
my eyes cries chaperon with pure blood?

How can you!
How could you?
so selfishly decided to follow
what fate had decided for you?

This used to be our world.
our plan, our life!

pause

Now,
how can I live, when my hands' missing yours.
when my heart stopped beating after you left.
my whole biological clock brume with stillness.

tell me, how can I?

Do you want me to spell it out?

Or scream it to your face?

The chemistry between us could destroy this place!

I can see the masterpiece in you.
In such a monotonous view,
I got deceived in the strokes of blue.

When all is nowhere near,
When life is no longer needed,
I came to see it clear,
How love need to be heeded.

It's been four years.
Four ******* years.
Your name still on my list.
Funny thing is that it is on top of it.

I still remember the look on your face when you told me you love me.
These excruciating years that I've been through knowing that you're doing well out there,
And I'm here, trying to be something you miss.

I miss you.
And that's that.

Sing me a song that will end in June,
for I shall be heard in the distance like the moon.
No amount of hatred can ruin your tune
I guess I just want to see you soon.

As life is a play that will break the heart
I know deep inside you will see the start.
This glare that I have won’t stop the heat.
I’m just hoping that you will play your part.

The love we share indeed is deep.
All your words are what I will only heed.
Sink me deep into the depths of your sleep.
Open my heart, please let it breathe.

I want to fall in love with a writer.
A legit, somber and nonchalant writer.

Because then, I can expect her to write sonnets about my look.
Haiku's about the way I kiss her in the most disturbing places.
I can expect her to write endless pages about how I've hurt her last night when I told her I needed space.

Because I bet she'll spend sleepless nights trying to figure out the perfect synonyms to define me. She'll perfectly describe how my lips taste, and how my eyes demand things.

I would wake up with poems. Just because.

Because then I know I could be immortal - in her papers.

I want to be someone's artwork. The idea of it at least.

Why you?
Why me?
Why us?
Why this?
Why now?
Why love?
Why heart?