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Macy Opsima Jan 2016
you
your lips
weren't as soft as a flower's petal

your eyes
weren't the color of the sky

your fingertips
were hills of rocks & dry skin patches

but still
flowers bloom at each step you took

i love you so much,
i don't know what to do
Macy Opsima Jan 2016
Falling in love will always hurt. Even if you get to marry them & have the happiest moment of your life, walking down the aisle or waiting at the altar for your lover. One of you will have to leave sooner or later.

Scenario #1, they die first. That **** will hurt. You will no longer feel their arms around you. The softness of their hair will be missed by your hand. Those late night movie marathons and fort-buildings will all become memories. Because they're gone. And as they leave, they took every single particle of you with them. And it's going to hurt for the rest of your life.

Scenario #2, you die first. You will spend seven years in whatever place you may go after you die, waiting for them. And sometimes, you will inevitably watch them move on and worse, fall in love with someone new. When it's time for them to die, there's a possibility that they might not even look for you in heaven or hell. For they're going to be busy waiting for their new lover to follow them into the light.

And you will become a distant memory.

Love will always hurt.
[ i hope none of you will experience this aftermath of love & to those who have experienced this, i'm deeply sorry]
Macy Opsima Jan 2016
Darling, what have you done to me? It seems as though 3 months ago I was writing about the pain of romance and bitterness. Then all of the sudden I was romanticizing brown eyes & cigarettes. Don't you know I hated the smell of smoke? My nasal cavity reacts badly to secondhand smoke but somehow, it doesn't when the smoke comes from you.

And all of the people are starting to say, "You look so happy with him" instead of asking, "Rough night?"

I haven't written anything sad for the past 2 months. I no longer sleep with a heavy heart. Is this what happy feels like?

Darling, what have you done to me?
atrashparticle.tumblr.com // twitter.com/atrashparticle
Macy Opsima Dec 2015
I hear the drops of rain crash against the roof of my home and poetry started to run among my veins. Each raindrop that hits the streets outside my house is yearning for me to write about you. And I’ve told myself that I will never write a single sentence about the boy who left wet kisses around my collarbones then burned my skin with his saliva that contaminates white lies. I promised myself that I will never write one more word about the boy who I’ve spent time teaching endearing phrases from foreign words in hopes that he will say those phrases in thought of me but I stood around the corner as I listen to you say those phrases to someone else.

Now, look at me. Writing about you again. The booming of the raindrops on my roof empowers my hand to move and write your name in this paper. The petrichor intoxicating my brain as I lose control of myself. And here I am realizing that fact that I was born to write about people who never gave a single **** about me.
twitter: @saturnedup
tumblr: asphodelles
Macy Opsima Oct 2015
“Ethan, do you think someone will deeply love me in the future? Do you think that someone will love me so much that even though he has seen me walk to him so many times before, he'll cry once he see me walk to him in white with flowers in my hand?”
Macy Opsima Oct 2015
Doctor, oh doctor
Help me breath again,
Stitch up the lines on my wrist
And paint my desolate brain

Doctor, oh doctor
I couldn't feel my face
They told me I would be okay,
They told me it was just a phase

Doctor, oh doctor,
I feel like death
Everything hurts,
And I don't want to breathe again
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