They await for a certain wave to trigger the hammer that'll smash my body into a splat on the ground. It'll be a couple of days before they set me free but I'm afraid you'll come right before that day comes. I'm afraid you will **** me.

I grew up with the tales of crying in the rain, screaming "Come back, come back, come back!". I never liked the rain nor do I like screaming and that's why I never liked the idea of you. I always heard tales about floating in blue matter because of you. I never liked the color blue and that's why I never liked you. Those happened when you left and we can't always be right, right? I rather stay inside this box without your shock than to lay on the ground, scattering every bit of my ruins into the blue matter & drenched in rain.

The earth under my feet begins to quiver. You're not a radiation, as far as I could remember. But your lips radiate every energy inside this lonely box and I'm afraid the hammer is sensitive to touch. Under the city lights your eyes never shined so bright. It was a beautiful idea to coexist with someone like you. Your eyes are like the dots scattered into the night sky but just like those dots, upclose your eyes are a fiery ball of destruction. Your waves triggered rocks to fall into my fears & crush them.

The clock is fastly ticking and the hammer is slowly rising. I'm not quite sure if this is suppose to feel this way. All I know is that I am both dying to make you run away from me and both accepting my fall. I want the future, man do I want to live. But future would mean a box without your touch & you already contaminated me with your poison. I do not want future if you aren't here with me. You've developed a catastrophe in this box and you marked it yours.

But what can I do now? After all, love waves cause the most desruction and I can't run away anymore.

Does it really matter? Because time becomes ephemeral when you're spending it with romance. The way his fingers latched with mine was gone the minute he saw his friends. What is more important is the memories and the thought that you've lived long enough for you to meet him. What matters is the thought of him coming in as oxygen, intoxicating your system even though he left immediately as carbon dioxide, someone you don't recognize.

His fingers was dripping poetic justice and his heart was covered in dictionary pages. I remember how he compared the works of Dickinson to how the stars shine in the night sky. I loved the way his eyes sparkle and his heart becomes frantic whenever he talked about the beauty of literature.

But not once when we were "together" did his eyes twinkled when he talked about me. Not once did he looked at me in fascination like how he looked like when he read The Tale of Two Cities. Not once did the hairs on his neck stood when I showed him the poems I made for him. And not once did he offered a word for me.

Beautiful, fascinating, ethereal.
Those are the words he use to describe literature. Those are also the words he never used to describe me.

I.
This is for each time
They told me I was only good with words.
Maybe I did spent too much time discovering words
That I no longer know how to put into good use.

II.
This is for each time
My skin yearned for yours
Your memory etched into the prints of my fingers
It was the first time I thought being alive wasn’t bad after all
But I left before you realize I wasn’t worth falling for.

III.
This is for each time
Your words converted me into a ghost
Floating while screaming, “What is this emptiness?”
Each spoon of salt poured unto my wounds
Became the only confirmation that I was still human.

IV.
This is for each time
My best wasn’t bubbling to the brim,
Not enough to let it flow out of my mouth gracefully, effortlessly
This is for each moment
I choked, pushed, and pulled it out of me
Until I was left with a sour tongue & shaky fingers
But at least I can be of service with whatever spills out.

You told me before that you were willing to give me anything I wanted. I told you tales about mysteries & unsolved history and my deep fascination of puzzles. I told you I love mysteries so you went ahead and became one. A jigsaw puzzle with confusing edges that doesn't seem to interlock with each other. And maybe that's enough proof that we were never really meant to intertwine. I became so reliant to people's words about me. You became a compound mixture of formulas and theories that wasn't suppose to mix together but somehow they did. They told me I was a fast thinker so why couldn't I understand you?

When I'm done drowning in my own tears, then that's the time when I'll give up on you. When I'm done picking all of the pieces that I had to rip from my skin just to swallow pages of encylopedias, then maybe that's when I'll cut all of the bridges that leads my feet back to you. But for now, I'll just continue burning the half of my heart that you hadn't taken.

I wish to take countless things back. I wish to take back all of the sonnets & haikus that I burned my fingers writing for you. I wish to take back all of the nights when I told you that I'll give you every piece of my self, you can take it all. And I wish to take back all of the burning stars that I heavily planted with the sore image of you. I never gave you an expiration date as to when you can have every piece of me and now you walk around mindless of the pieces of me that cling helplessly to your body. I never gave you a due date as to when I can get it all back. I take it all back.

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?

I saw you at the grocery store today and you asked me if you still have my heart.



I said no.



But if you silence the world and if you stare deep into my eyes, you can hear my heart say the contrary.



It's sad that you do still have my heart. I never gave it to anyone else, I never took it back. It's sad that you are still in there. You will always be the center of my love. You never left. You still own every inch of my love.



And I hate it.

you're strumming my heartstrings like how angels do with their harps & i bet that it did hurt when you fell from heaven but that doesn't hurt as much when i fell for you

You are not my world, you are not my everything. You shouldn't be my world, you should never be my everything. But it's the way you make me feel like I was the brightest star in your whole galaxy. How you became the harmony to every song I have ever listened. It's the way I looked directly in your eyes and suddenly, heaven & hell was at peace and the stars have aligned. It's the way you made me feel like everything was alright.

You were a shining masterpiece until the way you disguised as a diamond that cut me open and left me bleeding a river. It's the way you tore down my walls then lit it on fire. It's the way you bury a dagger below my back. It's the way you poison me with your sharp lies. It's the way you scribbled all over me, which might seem very pretty, but darling, the ink killed me.

It will hurt when I look at you, it will hurt when I don't. And I'm here to tell you right now, to give you permission to **use me. Use every bit of my red heart. Drain me from all of my colors and being. Paint me black. Kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the jaw. Hold my hand as you stab me in the stomach. Kiss my lips as you pull the trigger through my head. Rip open my chest. Take my heart. You don't have to stitch me back. Hold my pumping muscle. I'm sorry if my blood would ever stain your high-end shoes. But I'm asking you to let me enter oblivion in your arms. For I would rather die a painful death with you, than live seeing you love anyone else.

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.

how kind is the planet
that it continues to
rotate around its orbit,
giving us both warm and cold
despite the bombs we explode
in its scalp?
how kind is the planet
that it continues to sprout
leaves and fruits
to fulfill our empty, needing stomachs
yet we cut of its green hair
and cover the brown & green with grey?
how kind is the planet
that it continues to force away
humongous space rocks from colliding with us
regardless of the hatred
that walks around it's crust?
one day the planet will get so tired
of pushing space rocks
like how tired we get from
pushing our own kind away
and one day, our memories
will turn to dust that will
float in the deep, unmeasurable universe.
but the ashes of earth
will find it's way back into our bones.

I have learned that I was not always right because all my life I told myself that I was unworthy and yesterday,  I overheard my friends talking about how I deserve the greatest things in life. I learned that it's not bad putting yourself in front of others. One day, I will live the imagination in my head today.  Sooner or later, someone will bring shivers down my spine and I will awaken the butterflies in their tummy. Someday, I will deserve someone. Someday, someone's going to love me more than I love them and they will give me back the things that I gave the undeserving in the past.

the dust clouds have settled
from days of drawing rivers
and fearing the night
i have loved the way the sun
doesn't burn my skin.
i have loved the little lights
as they scatter across the black treacle
making my hazy head look up.
the rain still falls
and my days are still blue
i have grown fond of myself
even if most days i don't believe that's true

I undertake from the farthest moon in the universe,
That your love will always be requited
And if fate ever fell into reverse,
I'll find a way to keep you in my head.

I pledge from the deepest ocean in the world
That my shoulder would always catch your tears,
My words would always fill your ears,
So, dear, don't fear.

I oath to anyone reading this,
That you'll be the blood in my veins,
My love will grow as tall as the trees,
And I'll be there to ease any of your pain.

I commit to carry the weight of your world,
I'll make sure your sky doesn't cry
I'll love you through every mould,
I'll love you 'till I die.