3.00 am
I fall to my knees
intoxicated

Cyclone of thoughts
slit open my mind
Am I doomed?
Why am I bequeathed space?

Like wishes that never made it back
are my shooting stars, fallen

It's said past three
the body is vulnerable
and most likely to die

Yet I'm here living dead

Perhaps death is too easy
when compared to starved love

You die daily, unloved

The last time I heard you loved me
was on a bright sunny day
for eleven times straight
I counted
it would last till next summer
You chuckled like everytime

The irony, you mumbled
with no feelings attached

I was at a fair and
you were my merry-go-round  
I came back in circles

The summer days turned to brumous

It's said 'love conquers all'
Maybe ours wasn't love
Maybe we just loved the idea of love
Maybe I'm unloved
because my love is surreal in nature

But does it matter now
since I'm the one falling

Later you pointed I am broken
and said 'Broken can't fix broken'

But aren't we all broken?

I tried to fix you
but you were far from broken
Damaged

Like a broken tape-recorder
you repeated words bye-bye

And when you walked out
you made clear
the space between us do exist  
I wore silence that will echo in time
silence you strapped to my mouth

I have you now in my ripped pages
of an old rusted diary
hidden in the bottom shelf, titled
'The tragic of my fallen stars'

For someone who delighted
in my metaphorical elegies
would you understand if I told

The sun sunk that dusk
never rose the same thereafter.