There are two types of the word "crush-able". The first is the type that people would easily have a crush on. They got it all: the looks, intelligence, talent, humor, everything. It's hard to not fall for them the minute you lay eyes on them. You're attracted to them like a magnet. The second is the type that's easily crushed. Constantly getting hurt by the people around them, especially the ones they like or admire. They've gone through it all: getting rejected, ignored, pushed aside, not even second best, just..not a choice. Again and again and again. No surprise, I'm the latter.

I'm not the type of girl that people would crush on. I'm always the good friend. That's okay. I'll accept that. But it's always until there. That's the farthest I'll ever go with anyone. No matter how close we are, no matter how much we click; I've never been the special kind of person that they want to take to the next level. Maybe just foolishly flirting here and there, but they never take me seriously. No, I'm just their best friend.

The one who picks up the pieces when no one does, the one who sits quietly by your side when you're crying, the one who listens when you go on and on about this fantastic person you're drooling over, the one who eats with you when you don't feel like being in a large crowd cause you don't think you look your best but being with me is okay cause "Hey, you're my buddy. It's alright." Yeah I'm that girl. Always there for you, covering up your lies, tell you what's the homework you missed when you skipped class, getting text after text of "Can you do me a favor?.. Great, I owe you one. You're the best!"

It seems like I'm cursed to be everyone's friend. Again, it's not a bad thing. I just wish, for once, I'm the first type of crush-able. I wish someone would look at me like I put the stars in the sky and I make the waves crash on the sand. That I invented beauty with brains. I just wish someone would think highly of me the way I keep thinking of the people in my life. Of loving me the way I've loved my crushes before. And doing so sincerely. Not because I keep complaining, but because they genuinely love me for me.

-m.b

A soft and sleepy "I love you too"
floated from the room before I turned
and left.
Left the bed.
Left your body.
Left a part of my soul.
Without certainties
that we'll be
in each other's arms
again.

-m.b

Time and time again,
I chose you.
And every single time,
you looked away;
never choosing me.

Yet I still paint you in white,
place you on the highest tier.
Look at you with adoration;
with rose coloured glasses.

I still wait for the day
you open your eyes
to look at me.
With open arms,
realising I was right.

The voice saying I'm wrong
are immediately hushed
and pushed to the farthest wall.
You don't know anything at all.
Silly, silly me.

-m.b

Didn't think it'd
kick me this hard.

Now I'm lying here;
crying helpless tears.

What am I supposed to do
to get over you?

How is it possible
to be this happy and miserable?

-m.b

You were a curveball
I never saw coming.
I thought I had it all
but fate is unforgiving.

I was into another boy
but you came in calmly.
My God, was I destroyed
when you smiled shyly.

I've always thought
you're pretty
intimidating, smart,
and very witty.

But my feelings changed
when we were put
together. Then I hanged
onto your every word.

I couldn't stop thinking
about last Friday.
When we were hand holding
which made my insides disarray.

Now I get this
tingling sensations
inside me. Please,
I can't be patient.

I turn to mush
when I think of you.
I didn't expect to crush
on you. I hope you feel it too.

-m.b

I'd knock on your door
but you're never home.

So tell me, how do I love you
when you won't let me in your dome?

It's like wanting to fill a water bottle
but the lid is ******* shut.

They say love is easy.
So how come there's too many "ifs" and "buts"?

-m.b

Looking at my friends; I could imagine them growing old, getting married and having kids. But somehow I couldn't picture you being that way. You're like my favorite fictional character; never growing old. Even if you do, I couldn't stand the thought of seeing you marry someone else, be someone's husband and dad. It hurts a lot to think that you're not mine. You're all I ever wanted, now could you please look in my direction and get into your head that I'm the one you need? That I'm the one who will love you with every cell and molecule of my being?

-m.b

Your bones were literally
pressed hard against my throat
and I, gasping for air,
was still worried that my
loving arms was going to
hurt you.
How does that make sense?
Somehow, thinking rationally
was never my strongest
suit whenever I'm with
you.

-m.b

It hurts; looking at your pictures. It hurts; reading our old conversations. It hurts; looking at or hearing your name. I don't know why it hurts but it does. To be honest, I don't even know you but I do. It's weird. I can guess how you feel by the way you talk but I know that if we were to meet, I would see a complete stranger. All I'm saying is I'm tired of longing, of wanting, of swaying between staying and letting go and of hurting. So much pain and sadness. I want it to end but my feelings for you lingers still. I can't chop it off completely. Not when it's nestled deep inside me for a long time.

-m.b

There's this girl;
      who would cry alone.

No one to hear,
      no one to help.

Just as quickly as she starts
      to cry,

Her eyes dry up
      as if she never cried
  in the first place.

-m.b

Poetry** is me
in my rawest form.
You'll get to know all the deep
stuff about me. Secrets thrown
in carefully picked
symbols, analogies, words;
set in lines. I'm an open book.
All you have to do is read.
And listen. Cause all I do
is scream in poetry.
If you want the truth,
you'll know where to find me.

-m.b

Take a moment to think back on all the things that you've accomplished. Like smiling at a stranger even though you are scared of people. Of not stumbling over words when someone asks you a question. When people say you've made their day. Or even small self satisfactory moments in your life. Think of that. Know that your life isn't "empty" or "hopeless". Be proud of yourself, of every little thing that you've done. You're here for a reason and you are important.

-m.b

He counted the stars
to prove his love for her but
she's looking away

It's only been a few days, that's true.
But I already miss you.
Your quiet stares,
you shaking off your hair.
How you'd look at me in awe
because I was singing to a song you know.
And how we shared a look for a second
when someone asked you a question
that we somehow knew
the answer to.
It's crazy how well we connect;
Except for the part where you don't like me back.
For someone who makes me incredibly happy,
you're also the reason why I'm full of misery.

-m.b

Heavy rain,
Heavy breathing.
What is this pain
I am feeling?

Is it being in your presence
But I couldn't call you mine?

-m.b

I am quiet, with deafening thoughts in my head;
Slowly succumbing to insanity.
I am hurt, with all the slashes of lies that I thought were reassuring words. I had foolishly stood in front of it, with open arms.
I am angry, with people who fed me with false hopes when I was so vulnerable.
I am cynical, with the previous events that all led to disappointments. Landing on top of each other like stacks of paper.
I am lonely, with all the time I've spent alone. My visitors are much too busy.
I am sad, with happy news that breathes around me but would never approach me.
I am unworthy, with all my flaws to stay on people's minds. I am merely a speck of dust.
I am tired, with sorrow perched on my shoulder, bringing me down with its weight.
I am empty, with guilt consuming me whole, chipping away my everything.
I am hopeless*, *with everything dashing through, I never shook myself from all the negativity that dragged me, to pull myself up to join the world.
I was too busy wallowing in self pity.

-m.b

Funny how we met and connected. We became friends and slowly seeped into each others' hearts when we opened the book of emotions. Suddenly it was just the two of us. We found out about our hidden emotions that we kept from people around us. It's like we were meant to unfold each others' personality to see what's inside our very souls. The odd thing is, it's always just the two of us, never to let anyone else to interfere. We could never let each other see anyone else. No one is good enough for you and for me. Except each other. It's always been us. No one could take your place and none could take mine. Yet you're too stubborn to admit it out loud; that we want and need each other. When will we ever give in?

-m.b

I love music, art and reading books. But most of all, I love writing. Why? With these things, you could change the world.

With music, you could appreciate the symphony and it would take you to another world. The music could wrap your soul in the music notes, making you feel something. Or you could pour your feelings into them. Or even find your emotions in the music.

With art, you could make things different. It is all about perspective. Looking at things from a different angle and letting the colors, shapes, textures define how you see the world. A portrait could be changed into abstract and it baffles you; you could sit and stare, thinking about it.

With reading and writing, it shows you the deep stuff. The hidden messages that couldn't be interpreted physically. The silent emotions that you never thought could be present.

All in all, these things could change you. To hear what is in one's heart, to see things in a different perspective, to taste the victory or dejection, to feel the emotions and to smell what their souls are really like.

It is what binds us together, to feel each other and not carelessly hurt each other. Composers, artists and writers are the saviors of our universe.

-m.b

We broke up but I'm the one who's broken. You're doing just fine.
The sad thing is, you probably won't be that affected.
You'll say you're sorry, you love me, you'll miss me but
we both know I'm the one who'll get scars and bruises.
I've always been the one who gets hurt the most.

Like they say, when a heart breaks, it don't breakeven.

-m.b

I slept peacefully
with the rain pouring softly
outside. In between real life and
in my slumber; I thought of your name,
Lightning struck
and thunder shook.
Almost like the world didn't want me to
think of you.

-m.b

I miss you a little too much, my voice echoes; bouncing off the white walls. But you would only come by as you please and I'm left parched for your presence. Cause how else am I getting enough sunlight if not from your voice and skin and bones? Please come back.

-m.b

I want someone who sees me
and doesn't think I am ugly,
doesn't think I'm too messy.
Someone who'll let me down easily,
thinks of me highly,
who can take care of me.

I want someone who will
keep me safe. Who will ****
any harm out of the way till
time stands still.
Someone who still gets a thrill
going through the mill.

I want that person to be me.

-m.b

I live
  and breathe
    unrequited love.

It is not
  my choice
     because
I never ask to long
   for someone
      who doesn't want me.
or feel unattracted to him
  when he said
      he likes me.

It is truly
a vicious circle
   of unrequited
      love.

-m.b

How do people bloom from being friends to lovers? How do they start off as strangers, get to know each other and then work their way into each other's hearts? I couldn't picture myself doing so. Being friends is all I can do. Nothing more than that. I feel like continuing further is like stepping into an unknown territory. Kind of like in video games. You know when you're not a gamer but you try to play a game for the first time? Getting to know your character, read the storyline but not knowing what happens next? Getting excited at exploring the new place and gaining points but after some time, you start to wander aimlessly. Not knowing what to do next. How do I break from this? What do people do to go to the next level? After the constant feeling of not knowing, you sort of give up and never pick up the controller anymore. That's what it feels like. To me, love, or rather, romantic relationship, is like trying to play a game you never played before.

-m.b

There's something about your voice;
If I were a disease, I would be cured.
If I were to be deaf except for your voice;
I would jump at the chance. I'm destroyed

-m.b

It's getting quiter and it gets a little lonely sometimes.
But I keep drawing on the walls.
Hoping someone will stumble upon me;
The way you did.
And maybe I'll break free from the castle I created for myself.
But for now I like my brick walls.
It keeps me safe.

-m.b

I wrote your name
In the sand.
So the water will wash
It away.
If the sea can forget you
Then I can too

-m.b

WASTED ALL THESE FEELINGS
WASTED TIME THINKING OF YOU
WASTED THE BUTTERFLIES FLUTTERING
WASTED MY BREATH TALKING
WASTED RAISING MY HOPES
WASTED EVERYTHING
  ALL FOR YOU
    YOU
WHO I THOUGHT WAS WONDERFUL

you who I think is still wonderful
and no, it wasn't a total wastage

-m.b

I know you see your friends as flowers. Different, but beautiful in their own ways. They remind you of sunshine and everything good and pure in this world. I understand you want the best for them, for making you happy. But honey, I also know how you show your love. You water them everyday but because of your insistence, you'd overdo it and start watering them too much. I know you mean well but you need to watch how much you're pouring over them. Too much will **** them, even if you want to give them the care (you think) you could provide.

-m.b

"Pretty, pretty boy
Why did you catch my heart,
rolled and smoked it;
leaving it to bits of ashes.
Only for your cool friends
to talk over a cold bottle
or two;
How there wasn't a me and you?"
She sang in her lonely kitchen
on a quiet Sunday night.

-m.b

From the first time I saw her
I thought she was
A work of art;
A mystery

Stayed in my mind after.
As time passes
My heart;
On trajectory.

What is it about her;
That makes me want to rush
And help if she were to break apart,
Recreating a tale of an old lover's history?

-m.b

If you're wondering how it feels like to date me, I would describe it.

On a rainy day at home, I would walk around with just a t-shirt and in my short shorts. Even though I'm cold, I would brave through it.

On a hot day outside, I would wear my sweaters and denim jackets. I wouldn't even roll my sleeves.

If we're together, I would hold on to your hand a lot. Pulling it to my lips to kiss it softly, or I'd rub your fingers, tracing out shapes on the back of your hand or making swirls on your palm with my finger.

Occasionally I would write you letters. Telling how much I adore you, thanking you for staying with me and helping me when I'm a mess. I would even write poems and songs based on you.

On good days I would send you pictures of me, with either one of these three types of captions. 1) "Oh look I feel cute today" 2) "Is this okay? I'm not sure if this suits me," or 3) I say nothing at all, just waiting for you to shower me with compliments. I'm a sucker for memes. Sometimes just one or two react pictures would make my day.

I love road trips with my favourite people. Especially if they get my humour and listen to the same music genre as I do. I adore being close to the beach, watching sunsets and sitting beneath the night skies.

I like long intellectual conversations. Tell me about constellations and Greek myths. I enjoy listening to legends and the origin of things. The history, art, culture and languages of other parts of the world. Tell me what you think of our society and how we could improve it.

Maybe it's narcissistic but occasionally I would ask you questions about myself. What is it about me that made you want to be mine? What was your first impression of me? Is it different than how you see me now? Am I someone that you've been wanting and waiting for your whole life? Or am I a creature that you never thought would exist?

I love listening to people's stories as well so tell me about yourself. What was it like growing up in your home? Are our parents similar in many ways? What did you want to be when you were five years old? What was your favourite food when you were in high school? What's your biggest fear?

Most of the time I appreciate silence. We don't need to talk all the time, especially in the morning. I get really quiet in the mornings because I usually get too anxious.

I get talkative between 11am and 5pm. I would crack jokes a lot and sing or rap to Twenty One Pilots. I'd even make random songs out of the blue.

After midnight I would pour my heart out completely, especially in text messages as I couldn't form the correct sentences verbally, my mind works too quickly. That's where my deepest fears and worries would explode and I'd spam you with my thoughts. I hope you're okay with that.

-m.b

They say that the people in your life
crosses your path for a reason.
That everything is an epitaph;
carved forever, shapes you into a person.
I suppose it's true. My journey is a drive;
passing by houses filled with antidotes and poison.

Cause honey when I think of you,
I think of cuts and bruises;
I think of gaping wounds, skin turning blue.
These are the things my mind chooses
to remember, even if it's not entirely true.
I try to change my mind but it refuses.

When I think of you, I try to remember
the good moments we had. Like laughing,
embracing, midnight talks together.
Tell me why do I only remember lashing,
hurting, being worried that I'm an offender?
You'll always be the villain in my story telling.

I suppose everyone has an expiry date.
After some time your insides began to rot.
My craving for you turned to bitter hate.
I threw you away because loving you, I could not.
See, all these thoughts of you, made me afraid.
And you were my life's biggest lesson ever taught.

-m.b

I wish I could stroke your hair and make it alright;
Tell you a joke and then we'll laugh.
I'd do just about anything to see you smile;
Even if it's just for a while.
It hurts to see you in so much pain;
Feels like I'm to blame.
Even though it has nothing to do with me;
My heart still bleeds.
Wish I could take your sadness away;
Good God, you're in so much despair.
All I want is for you to be happy;
Even if I'm left alone, broken/

-m.b

Empty shelves;
Empty hearts.

Quiet surroundings;
Quiet souls.

Unfinished writings;
Unfinished thoughts.

-m.b

I was too sad, with everything that had an ingredient of sorrow thrown at me.
I was too vulnerable, when you swept in and uttered sweet words.
I was too naive, and believed all your make believe stories that I've dreamed of and you said them all.
I was too clingy, the next day when you left with no news of what happened last night.
I was too shell-shocked, when you told me you don't feel the same way and I'd better move on.
I was too lovesick, to let you go so I gave you a song of mine, which I've never done before.
I was too touched, when my friend gave me words of reassurance that was so beautiful, I cried like a fool.
I was too mad, when you wanted me back after reading the lyrics and apologized then begged me to stay.
I was too confused, when you tried to win me back and said all those nice things.
I was too stupid*, *to actually get involved with such a sweet talker that wrecked me emotionally.

-m.b

To me, it is both
a blessing and a curse
to fall for a writer.

If they love you,
they'll paint the prettiest words for you.
But if they don't,
they'll slash your insides with words too.

To me, it is both
beautiful and terrifying.
I'll keep reading them anyway.

-m.b

Sometimes it gets really bad
Up in my head.
And the questions start to hit;
Why this, now? Why me? Is it really worth it?

And the answer is always this:
Yes.

-m.b

Baby boy, there's no need to feel insecure
cause in my eyes, you put the moon in the sky.
I wonder how you'll feel if you knew
or maybe deep down, you do?

-m.b

You don't know
the amount of time
I use to stare at my reflection
in the mirror.
Pinching my lump of fat,
pulling my face in a grimace.
I don't want a round face,
plump fingers, fat neck,
big waist, thick back
and a pair of massive thighs.

You don't know
the effort I put in
to keep myself from growing,
to maintain my body weight,
to fix the food on my plate
as if I ate, though I'm lying.
Nor do you know the trips
I take to the bathroom
to retch out what I consumed.
Please, I'm fat enough.

You don't know
the sudden panic attacks
I get when I'm outside.
Sweaty hands, shortness of breath,
dry mouth, numb feet.
Overwhelming worry, self-consciousness
about everyday social situations.
God, it is not cute.
Such unrealistic worry
But you can't even see it.

You don't know
the raging feeling of pessimism
that churns inside me.
Consumed by guilt, worthlessness.
The sad, empty feeling
as I'm soaked by the hurricane
of self-loathing.
It's hard to concentrate
and I'm always so tired.
I can't do anything right.

You don't know
the number of times
I've fiddled with my knife,
dagger, scissors.
They're my friends,
accompanying me in my times
of dragging loneliness.
The sharp intake of breath
as it dances across my wrists.
Let it create numerous lines,
zig-zagging across my skin.
I like the stinging pain;
It's better than what goes through my mind.

-m.b

Sometimes when I'm alone
I'd think of you.
But you're not here,
my dear.

I remember how
gentle you'd hold
my hand.
Grab, hold, caress.
But you're not here,
my dear.

How my arms would
envelop your waist.
How perfectly it stays.
But you're not here,
my dear.

I remember how
smooth your hair
feels when I fiddle
with it.
But you're not here,
my dear.

I miss how your soft
voice pleads my name
when we don't sit
together. Oh, the lilt.
But you're not here,
my dear.

And when we hug,
I love the height difference.
How I'd bury my face
in your chest. And you'd
dig your chin on my head.
But you're not here,
my dear.

Sometimes when I recall
your little details,
I become suffocated
with your lovely scent.
But you're not here,
my dear.

I'd close my eyes and
reach out for your body.
But you're not here,
my dear.

My lovely dear,
you're now with
somebody else.
I wish you're here.

-m.b