my feelings are a mountain
i have yet to tackle
detached of my body
way ahead of me
in a sense it may have manifested its way of life
now it is a head, with a heartbeat
i’ll let it grow a hand of its own
perhaps two, even
limb after another
& who am i but a shell?

‪feel better soon, heart.
i hope it aches less but never heals,
save some left for when you’d wonder how pain felt like.
it takes you getting hurt to make you feel alive, from your recall.

if you’re so used to goodbyes, why does it ache different each time?

words, little do they seem to mean
for someone so big that not even one’s heart can bear

i hope in a different life,
you would—at least—be happier,
even if that means trading my only chance
in this life of knowing you exist.