we were like two stars
shining and burning the brightest

years later we started
colliding and consuming each other

and after the impact
we faded to nothing
but whispers in the dark

i’m never going to be your dream girl
i have sharp edges
and bones too strong from all the breaking they did

but i like that you still try
i like that you still hold my hand
i like that still you look at me
and when you do
i sometimes see what i could be

Stormy skies
and dark waves
invading the shore

The ocean seems unsettled tonight.

Maybe we were meant to be a tragedy.
Maybe nothing is really meant to be.
Maybe it doesn't matter.
Not anymore.

Sometimes
it's easier to let go
and let yourself fall
a little deeper
into the darkness

They will whisper
about our sins
about the way we lust

Let them wonder
about the dark ways
that we love

i can feel his gaze follow me
inside the room like a wildfire
intense, burning, and unwavering
our eyes met
a spark of mischief glinting in his eyes
igniting a flame within me
and i cursed myself for being
such a **** pyromaniac

His grip tight enough
to not let my fingers
slip through his
but also loose enough
to let me know
that i should always be ready
because at any moment
he could let go.

He came into my life and suddenly all the love songs made sense to me.

But it was only after he left when I finally understood the sad ones.

Oh won't you look at these scars;
A reminder of how things are and aren't.

I stopped wanting things I know I can't have a long time ago, but then I met you.

find what you love and let it ruin you


a lot of things would **** you
but wouldn't it be
much better to die for —
or to be killed
by something or someone you love?

Who bled first?
Was it me
or you?
Does it even matter
which of us
stabbed the other first?

if i could experience it all over again
even with every ounce of pain
and each waking moment of ache
i would not think twice
i would do it in a heartbeat
for you, for us.


you're the only one worth of all this torture.

The clocks in our hearts were in sync;
We felt it.
Too bad it wasn't our time.

I guess
the good thing
about having many scars
is that
new wounds
rarely
leave a mark.

If I were a painter,
he would definitely be my muse.
But amidst the shades
of black, gray, and blue
there wouldn't be
a color dark enough
to match the sadness
in his eyes.

☔

I tried my best to rekindle our fire;
You just watered down all my attempts.


All efforts were futile.

I'm sorry
I keep comparing
you and everything we have
to the ghosts
of my past.

she is
a pretty little flower
but beware
of the poison
that runs deep
in her roots.

If love had another name, this could be it.
I realized this last night;
when I thought of a distant memory.
We were both drunk;
pouring our hearts out
talking about how our loved ones
always tend to abandon us and all.
We hoped love could cure it all
but we both know it wasn't enough.
It was never enough
to lift the heavy weight
our hearts and shoulders held.
After thinking back
to the things that had happened,
I came to a conclusion
that it isn't always love itself; sometimes it's the lovers.

he is the one
who brings the sun to shine

he is the ink
that dances across the pages
giving birth to beautiful poetries

he makes great symphonies
with his lyre he'll give you a show

he can bestow you great health
but try not to anger him
for you may suffer the plague he brings

it has been a great day
but it's time for him to go

he'll be back tomorrow
with more symphonies
and poetry for show

wielding his silver bow and arrow
while riding his sun chariot across the sky
you will easily recognize him
he is the god Apollo.

The downside
of falling in love
with people
who make you feel
sparks
and fireworks
in your heart
comes
when they leave you
with nothing but
ashes and smoke.

A beautiful maiden
guided by the moonlight
hunting in the dark woods
with nothing but
her arrows and pride.

I have this habit of starting wars with myself and sometimes in the end I don't know whether I've won or lost.

She is a beautiful house full of secret rooms and intimidating paintings on the walls that would make you uncomfortable.

Only a few people get to feel like home.

He met her
and all the wars
inside him grow silent.

He loved her
and that's when he realized
she's the only thing
worth the pain of
****** hands, broken bones and bruised skin.

Of all the voices
in my head,
yours was my favorite.

My mind escaped my body
so lost along with the burning passion I was feeling

Stomach filled with butterflies
my cold fingertips tracing your warm skin
nails digging on your back
leaving satisfied marks

Lips swollen and quivering
moans muffled
and my heart on fire

This is how you make me feel
This is what you do to me
This is how you stir up the sinner in me

I met a boy who doesn't want to let anything nor anyone close;
For he is made of ruins and constantly fears that he will destroy everything he touches.

Sunday morning
all is peaceful and quiet
I was drinking coffee
while skimming the morning paper
Listening to the cars
roar in the distance
You came out of the bedroom
yawning, stretching
looking cute with your bed hair
Eyes squinting
Adjusting to the sunlight
You made your way to the kitchen
poured yourself a cup of coffee
and took a seat across from me
We just stared
Studying each other
Not a single word uttered
We sat still in silence
a comfortable one
Few minutes passed
You looked a way
licked your lips then smirked
Often
I daydream about
doing a lot of things to you
I wonder
Are you thinking
the same way I do?

eyes like the forest
mysterious and inviting
draw me close
until i am lost.

His love —
a storm that cannot be calmed;
a war that cannot be ceased.

I've always been scared
of the dark
when I was little.

Years later,
look how
the tables have turned.

Darkness
had become
my home
my solace.

Along with
my demons
that sing me
to sleep
every night.

He held her hand and promised her the moon and stars. Now she can't look up at the night sky because the moon and stars are still there but he's not.

i have fallen in love with art
and can't help but wonder
what comes first:
the madness or the art?
it seems like
the two are tragically entwined.

she cries an ocean
every night
when she's in bed;
the deeper it gets
the more she forgets
how to swim.

I wish I could hear you;
Saying my name
the way I say yours,
with want,
with need.

Sometimes
I tend to forget
and become too careless;
I let my guard down
and let someone in
far enough
To break my heart

Each time
I tell myself
I will never
let it happen again

With each lesson learned
My armor strengthens
And I hope it’s hard enough
To not let it happen again.

He had been with a lot of women since her.
But he always finds himself wishing for those women to taste more like her.

You said jump
so I did
thinking you'll be with me
but I was wrong
because the hand
I thought was meant
to hold me
was the one you used
to push me.

You keep telling me
you miss me
like you meant it
but I know
you only say it
as a form of apology.

She is an ocean
But don't be fooled by the beauty
For she has turbulent currents
Flowing beneath her calm surface
And violent waves
That can swallow you whole.

You just keep finding ways to leave while I struggle to find ways to make you stay.

I'll be your guide home when you're lost in a sea of thoughts.

Every time I rest my head on his chest, I could hear echoes of all the people who had let go.

I'm not a piece of paper;
You can't fill my emptiness with your words.

I hope it hits you like a freight train
every time you hear my name
and remember how badly you ****** us up.

Out of all the thousand less painful ways to die, he chose love.