I would write a thousand poems in your name, but I will never capture your natural and unyielding beauty.
I would paint hundreds of portraits of you, but my pieces will never match a single smile you make.
I will walk a miles without caring whether I thirst or hunger, just so I can see your face, yet my body will give up before I reach you.
I would send you exotic and fragrant flowers as a homage to your loveliness, yet their fragrance will fade, they shall lose their color, and they will eventually wither and die.
I shall pray to God every single **** day until He smites me out of annoyance that I would be able to hold your hand even for just one second, but alas He still hasn't answered this one prayer.
I will do everything for you, and you know I would.
Yet you will not even notice me.

One day we met at a crowded street.
Your hands were on your pockets and your clothes were a bit damp.
An earbud dangling on your left ear and your eyes a hazelnut brown.
You got that vague smell of chocolate and your lips swollen red in the cold December air.
People walked past us,
hurriedly and unknowingly,
but time seemed to froze right at that moment.
Everything that's around us was a blurry picture of dismantled motion and I continued to stare upon your eyes in awe.
You looked at me quizzically and I just smiled in response.
I am a faded portrait of an identity you once knew and talked to.
I held my grip tight to my journal of poetries about you,
that I know I should give to you but I can't.
I'm there,
standing in front of my missing piece hoping that he'd remember me,
but you just shook your head and walked past me like I'm never a part of your memory.

I know a boy
With eyes like mine
He is breathtaking, refreshing like the ocean
When the tide comes in
He is extraordinary, radiant like fields of amber
When the harvest begins

I know a boy
Who loves Java as much as I do
My favorite pass time is when we’re coding
He is teaching me theories
We’re experimenting
Seeing what works best
Efficient, Effective solutions  
We’re engineering the simplest algorithms
It’s a practical approach
And it’s all his fault
It’s the best **** thing

I know a boy
He knows me better than I know myself
He understand the explanations I cannot give
The result isn’t a misunderstanding
I don’t have to scream, but I want to
I want to argue with him
Even though I’m running out of air
My face is about to break
My heart is about to explode
And my mind is moving a mile a minute
But when the war is done
In the silence I find familiarity  
I’m falling asleep to affectionate lullabies
I’m waking up to inside jokes
This warmth has me leaking like a faucet
And it’s all his fault
It’s the best **** thing

I know a boy
He blows my mind
The conversations are weird
Slow and Sweet
Anxious and Calm
I’m rambling without a filter
Swearing and Laughing
I just want time to stop
Just hit the pause for a moment
So I can memorize the moment  
Save the conversation
So we can live it together later
And it’s all his fault
It’s the best **** thing

I know a boy
With eyes like mine
And it’s the best **** thing

You were the rabbit hole
that I fell into.
They deemed you as figment
as I claimed you to be reality.
I had no valid reasoning—
I just felt that
everything was **** right.
The steps I took on my way towards you
were the steps I shall not repent—
I presumed.
The enticement of the mystery
that the depth of the rabbit hole held
electrified me.
There was no trepidation—
just pure excitement
of something obscure.
The magic I've witnessed
seemed so real to me.
The fiction that happened
was non-fiction to me.
The lies you showed
was the verity to me.
Your Cheshire cat smile
was never mischievous to me.
—until I acertained
that our love
was delusional.
The thought of us
was just a phantasm.
You were the wonderland
that I never anticipated to show.
I fell.
I believed.
I ventured.
I wandered.
I wondered.
I lost—
myself
inside the wonderland.
The steps I took on my way away from you
are the steps I repent now
for I wish I had stayed
and stayed blinded by the fantasy.
The enticement of the mystery
that the depth of the rabbit hole held
now fears me.
There is no more excitement—
just pure trepidation
of something obscure,
and of something unreal.
And today, I can finally say,
as opposed to what I claimed,
You were the rabbit hole
that I fell into.
Now I'm in severe pain
for I fell too hard—
and they deem my pain as a figment
as I claim it to be reality.
I have no valid reasoning—
I just feel that
everything is **** wrong.

“Did it hurt?” he asked me. “Falling in love.” He looked genuinely curious. His eyebrows were scrunched up like a little kid trying to figure out how to play a game.

I smiled and answered, “Falling in love didn’t hurt. Falling in love feels like falling to the softest mattress that ever exists. Falling in love is insanely sweet. It controls the way you think, the way you act, and it slowly consumes you to madness. And because of that we tend to forget what we are really falling for. “It’s not falling in love that hurts. It’s being in love. It’s being in love with an illusion of what you thought was true. It's being in love and realizing that you had fallen in love with tantalizing blue eyes that’s tangled up with cobwebs of lies. It’s being in love with someone you thought would never hurt you.”

She is a scripture of broken promises and shattered dreams. Every step felt like walking on mysteries and every breath felt like drinking secrets.

She is a mess from another mess of a family. Every moment was another sad memory and every single remembrance was already a forgotten dream.

She is a painting covered in ink. Her colors have turned black and her lines have been smeared. She is a canvas no longer wanted because of a stain she cannot remove.

And so I tell her, look up. Stop stepping on mysteries. Stop living on sad memories. Stop letting your colors fade. Become as vibrant as your soul and become a masterpiece painted by yourself.

Do not throw yourselves to the bottom of the pit because of people who want to use you only as a stepping stone. Do not bring yourselves down because of flaws you are taught to hate because those flaws are what make you different. Those flaws are what make you beautiful and those flaws are what make you see the beauty in yourself. Do not hate others because of things you do not accept and do not turn from those who need help.

You are a scripture of promises and dreams and that very thing is the reason of your existence. To love and be loved by others but more especially to be loved by yourself. Understad that the hardships you have gone through are the lessons you will remember. You are allowed an infinite number of chances to turn things around, but remember to make every chance matter.

Remember to give people your heart and remember to give yourself patience. Patience to grow and patience to love. Patience to learn and patience to accept.

Learn to live how you want to live, because your life is a story that you write with your hands. Do not let others write your story for you. Write your story with your own words, sentences, paragraphs, memories, remembrances, dreams, promises, and with your very being.

Write with your hands; write with your soul.