Beside what used to be your pillow, I wake.
Melancholy as I get out of bed.
Brushing teeth by the sink
With a jolt of sadness and dread;
your toothbrush on the brink.    

Eating the pain for breakfast.
Then wishing the shower can
wash away the misery.
I look at the mirror hoping that again,
I could meet your lips so dreamy.

But seeing that photo near the corner
reminds me why I must not bother.

Driving to work with the thought of you
sitting on the passenger seat.
I put my phone on top of my table.
Longing for your voice so sweet,
waiting for your message so playful.

Can you blame me if I can’t forget you?
Everything still lingers.
Everything reminds me.
I feel like I hold my heart in my fingers,
shattered to the highest degree.

I even take the long way home
to forget the state of being alone.

So please come back;
not for a brand new start.
But to keep our memories at bay;
to keep the pain, the pieces of my heart.
It used to beat for you, anyway.

no one realises
how powerful it is
until he or she
feels,
experiences,
or loses it.

it can either
make or break you,
that’s what love does.
strengthen
or shatter
one’s own heart.

but there are
indeed times like this,
where love could turn
one
into
a writer.
 
there are others,
many others out there:
they tend to turn
passion
into
prose.
   
there are others,
many others like me:
they tend to turn
pain
into
poetry.