what do you look at whenever you see me for the first time, after a long time?
do you notice my dressing,
down until my shoes?
or do you look at my hair,
and observed how much of a mess it is?
do you see my jewelery,
and how i finally managed to wear them out?
or do you see my face,
the only one that tells it all?

because something tells me you don't notice anything,
and i rather excuse you with reasons in my thoughts.
maybe you were busy with your thoughts,
and you got tangled up real badly.  
or maybe you were caught up with the conversations you had before,
regretting things you didn't say up until then.
or maybe you were lost in space,
having being ventured into it for a long time,
you forgot to come back.

but today for the first time,
i stopped making excuses for you.
because i thought,
just for once,
you would notice me.

i look back into the days
where the grass was greener,
and the time, slower;
of which memorable things happened everyday,
and being happy was never an option.
i never felt lonely once,
even when i was alone.
because i knew back then,
things wouldn't change,
or i thought so now.

but oh how the days has changed,
except for the green green grass.
time became faster,
and memorable things happened only in a good night sleep.
being happy is a rarity now,
loneliness became my best friend.
i took the days before for granted,
because it's either those days,
or an eternal silence laid in me.

foolish and weak,
i let the dark roamed in me.
they ran through the empty hallways,
leaving none untapped.

memories once held so dear were engulfed,
i forgot the times when joy were nuff.
and all bad ones stayed behind,
the ratio now all to none.

i sometimes wonder why am i like this,
should i blame my first curiousity,
or was it simply myself?
could it be stopped, or was it fated for
things to turn out this way?

one by one the lights were slowly extinguished,
a pitch black darkness covered the entire place.
my face seemed normal as the eyes of public passed me by,
little did they know i was drowning inside.

the last candle stood in the way,
the only one with a name.
it was fighting the dark that came its way,
slowly losing out until today.

i would write letters to you
even though you're next to me
talking to you would be amazing
having you to look at me would be breath-taking

i would walk distances for you
even though you may be in the next town ahead
seeing you would be fulfilling
worthy of every footprint i made

i would sing to you
oh, my dear love, i would sing
tell the whole world how much of a lovely person you are
even though glasses will shatter with my untuned pitch

i would do anything for you my dear
to make you smile and laugh when the rain falls down
for i can't live with the image of you being blue
drowning into the depths of the ocean i brought you to

aware of everything,
helpless from it all
am i not involved
in the life i was once flourishing from?

i see the sky,
i see the stars,
next i see darkness,
feeling cold from it all,
only hearing the chatter of people no so far away.

in my head they're possibly smiling,
from seeing me going so far away,
on a boat rocking gently with
mr charon chucking loudly;
knowing i won't see another better day.

thinking to myself,
“do i still have a heart whilst so still from being touched by death's fingers?”
because my heart is beating fast,
with each stroke the boatman takes.
how far would i go away,
from the life i once knew so well?

oh, how i wish i can return,
back to the undead!
is it still possible,
after what it seemed like i had been rowed on for so long?

i hope it is,
i hope i can still be alive
to feel the rush of passion all through my veins,
to feel the heat of it all.

"mr boatman, please take me back," i begged;
"i will live a life so full, you would wish you were human."
he smiled eerily, with a tooth or two,
"you don't belong there,
you belong here,
with the dead,
the heartless,
the cold.
can't you see you've cause enough up there?
can't you see you belong down here?"

he shook his head,
rowed further,
hushed me once more,
and to the horizon we went.

with my face gone from this earth,
only distant memories remained;
with my soul undertaken,
i was gone far away.

everybody insist that they know me,
that they know my insides as well as my outsides;
on how many times i had a breakdown,
how many times i smiled for the world,
and how many times i was myself.
but the truth is,
how can anyone know me as much as i do?
that seems impossible,
possibly maybe because i for sure
am not sure of what i am
or neither what's inside of me,
or even what i'm capable of.
i don't know what i like,
i don't know what i dislike;
i might as well be a sculpture,
at least i'd have an appearance worth paying for.
but what if i'm not all that you said i was?
what if i was lesser, or even maybe a bit more?
i mean, who knows?
i wish i knew.
but most importantly,
i wish i knew how to at least accept myself the way i am.
i wish i knew how.

Remember the saying,
"And if you're still up at 4 a.m., you are in love or lonely, and I don't know which one is worse."?
It's currently 4 am,
and I'm neither in love nor lonely.
I don't know if it's bad not being in either situation,
but all i do know is that I am at peace.
Peace with myself,
somewhat in love as well.
But I am alone now,
does that make me lonely nonetheless?
And being somewhere in love,
should I fit in that criteria too?
I guess being up at 4am in my shoes,
doesn't make me either in love or lonely.
Instead it makes me alone and lovely,
and I swear if you were with me now,
I'll be all yours.
Only at 4 am,
I'd be all yours.