The times I wish I just gave up and stopped chasing you.
Endlessly bringing me to the void that I was once in.
The void to me is a space to express unexpressed feelings and thoughts that linger in the breeze of forever.
Sometimes I don’t understand how I feel like this or are filled to the brim of uncertainty.
How you mean so much to me and I only had a glimpse of you for a year.
I’m still trying to find my words, as they are lost in the depths of my heart.

I still find the running sink haunted in my own head, as the door twists open.
I didn’t feel so exposed within its draining darkness of walls.
This was a simple message or poem of moving on, not something more.
Although every time I write about you, I feel something else.
Different types of words to express the inclusion and background of the person I fall into.
The kind of seeking cannot express how clarity comes into the beings of consciousness.
The kind of thinking can’t conclude if self-expression and the self helps to know that you exist.

In this world, I feel like a forgotten entity.
I should let go, but I don’t know how.
The string should just cut itself, but I see it can’t.
Without the pair holding onto the scissors.
Yet I don’t know when I’ll reconnect with you in silence.
The space is within deafening ears and distance that holds to you.
My eyes when imagining you, I can see myself reaching out for you.
With what means a longing and unfiltered light of how I feel.

I don’t want to sound like I’m chasing a person who isn’t worth my time.
Who isn’t what you see, when you look at me.
For myself isn’t yours, or mine to see.
So the inside is condemned and dimmed with lanterns.
Laughs sprawl out and now I feel scared of this turning point.

Call me crazy or any negative word.
Call me whoever you like.
I don’t like how I see myself and I don’t know what I mean to you or what you mean to me.
I’ll keep going, maybe.