i burn at the touch
of your stained hands
how dare you
in that moment
i forget how to forgive you
i forgive me just to forget you
i was enough
i am enough

i remember how i wished
your hands would be on fire
every time you touch all your lies
your hands brought them
back to life
on me
i forget how to not be a stranger in my own skin
you became a stranger in yours to forget
i was enough
i am enough

in a fleeting moment
i let myself believe
you were homesick
you knocked once
twice
thrice
and then you left
you forget how to try
you try to forget
that i was enough
i am enough

sadness is an anchor.
it anchors you to the past in which memories circle you, mock you, hurt you.
it anchors you to your bed because it feels so hard to face the day.
it anchors you to the idea of the person you thought you knew, making you wonder if anything was even real.
it anchors you to the broken world that you've built with that person; it's destroyed and you sit in the broken remains in despair.
it anchors you to the thoughts of that person, how the person is doing, if the person prefer the new person better than you, if they are doing the same things, if the person is thinking about you.
it anchors you to the fear that nothing will ever get better, that you might not be able to live because you forgot life before the person.
it anchors you to the uncertainty of the future because you've planned so much but with the inclusion of that person and now you're lost.
it anchors you to your broken dreams, surrounded by the shattered pieces.
it anchors you to the piercing words that person said, things you never imagined them capable of saying.
it anchors you to the ghost of that person.

but never forget that even the strongest anchors are lifted once the ship is ready to move. you'll be ready one day.

you knew me well enough to know
that i had a hard time
letting go of my past
and i knew you well enough to know
that you had a fear of being forgotten.
maybe that's why you decided to leave
and be part of my past;
i never could forget it,
never could forget you,
no matter how hard i tried.

even the moon changes every night, and I had the nerve to believe you would never change your mind.

there is a certain form of victory in realizing that you were not the first thing on my mind when I woke up. I want to say I've moved on but I still have to say your name through gritted teeth and it still hurts every bone in my body you used to give chills upon. I guess there are traces of you everywhere and it is going to take a long time before I am clean. but I've come to the realization that the world continues to move no matter what happens, oblivious to the sound of your footsteps when you left, to the rough thud of my heart that fell to my stomach when I saw you wrapping your arms around her and to the gentle crumbling of my bones when I slid down the wall crying, battered and worn-out. the wind was strong at the beach where we left our secrets in the shells we threw back into the ocean, and we kept each other's biggest one, but the wind is also strong at the balcony of my house where I sit trying to turn my pain into something poetic and when it gusts through the windows to your bedroom when you wake up without my morning calls; I guess what I'm trying to say is that the sun is still giving way to the moon every night for the past 315 days and the wind is burning into my eyes, making me remember the way your shirt waved in the wind that day at the beach, and embedded your scent into my senses. but someday, I will be able to stand looking at the sunset, the wind carrying my laughter and the world would not be the only thing moving; I am too.

but i wish your hands are on fire
every time you touch another one
of your lies

Your eyes might have reminded him of constellations his father told him about when he was a kid but one day, someone will see the galaxies in them.

He might have loved hearing you say he’s your home but one day, someone will feel at home only in your arms, the way you never could in your own skin.

Your voice might have reminded him of the way raindrops fall on the window pane, comforting him, but one day, someone will think of your voice as the only sound that matters, the one he wants to wake up to, go to sleep to, and everything in between.

He might have played with your hair while you read but one day, someone will weave flowers into them.

Your touch might have reminded him of the warmth of his mother he still talks about everyday but one day, someone will make you feel like every touch of yours is electricity, making him feel so much emotion; the way you are thunder in his storms sometimes, the way it still shocks him other times to be lucky enough to have you, and the way you make him feel alive most times.

He might have supported you in your passion, be it in dancing, singing or writing, but one day, someone will make you feel like a masterpiece instead; you will be a dance item, a song, a poem to him.

Your laugh might have reminded him of the beauty in life, that there’s not only darkness but one day, someone will miss your laughter in between the seconds of his day, and will do anything to make sure you never lose it.

He might have adored the scent of your favourite perfume but one day, someone will adore everything about you; every flaw, every strength, every curve, every nook and cranny, every good hair day, every bad hair day, every smile, every tear, everything.

Your heartbeat might have reminded him of how it feels like to fall in love but one day, someone will make you feel that your heartbeat and his are in sync, like it’s meant to be.

I’d like to say that I have moved on
and maybe I have
but forgetting you looks a lot like
the time you sent me home before running to catch the last bus;
I just kept looking back at you,
and right now,
I still am.

if tears are a language
mine will drown you
just to let you know how much
i love you

if tears are a language
you'd hear a storm raging
flooding the thoughts of you
with her

if tears are a language
you'd see huge waves of them
suddenly and unexpectedly when
i miss you

because if tears are a language
you might understand me better
see, words have failed me but
i'm made out of 70% water

and so maybe just maybe
you'll finally see
the control you have
over a huge part of me

(mf)

but you look at her
as if you just found
your new favorite thing
in the whole world
(i look at you like that too)

last night, my room was illuminated by the flashing of red and blue; police sirens filled the air. it reminded me of the sudden flashbacks that had been clouding my mind, and the fear acted as a warning that starts to creep in every vein of my body because i know what happens when i start to remember the memories we had vividly.

last night, the ticking of the clock kept breaking the silence every other second. it reminded me of the way the silence sat still between us and i could hear my heart beating in my ears every other second, loud and clear.

last night, i watched the time changing but i always missed the change in a blink. it reminded me of the way i never expected you to change in a blink, so sudden, no matter how much i prepared for it.

last night, i kept adjusting my blanket because it was either too hot or too cold. it reminded me of the way you were hot and cold; you were indecisive but i never stopped trying to adapt to you.

last night, my hand reached out into the space beside me where it was constantly empty every single night. it reminded me of the way i reached out to you when you were beside me and ending up with nothing but distance every single time.

you are a traveler
it was winter where you were
you were alone
surrounded by nothing
but coldness, loneliness, darkness

i took you in
maybe it was your (sad) eyes
or the way you moved
but i took you in

i gave you shelter
but in time
i wanted to give you everything
warmth, love, care
(shelter for your heart)

you became stronger
and got back on your feet
but i became weaker
the way my knees would buckle listening to your laughter

and one day you told me you loved me
and i believed you
as fast as when you left
the very next day

and now i am stuck at home
alone once again
but i forgot how to live on my own
and all i remember is the way your hand felt in mine

because you are a traveler
and i forgot that i was no different
than just another stopover
that "stay" wasn't a word in your dictionary

and all I could do is survive
the storm raging inside
that you left behind
ever since you left