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nadine Jul 17
i hate talking
to myself about you.

i hate crafting
poetic idioms and metaphors
that only remind me of
walking through endless hallways,
hoping to find the exodus of everything.

i hate counting
the stars on the firmament above —
i know i will always lose count
but i will always count back to the beginning.

i hate visualizing
sceneries that seem to say frozen
in front of me:
two shadows falling on each other
to fill the empty spaces
but the gap will never cease to exist.

i absolutely despise
writing about the curves of your lips
but my mind cannot fathom
how deeply besotted i am with you.

so i turn you into poetry —
because i cannot have you in any other way.
for g      ( this is getting ridiculous)
nadine Jul 11
your name will forever linger on my mouth,
immeshing the dust within the fragile pages of a literary classic.

“my eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all.”
you saunter freely with romantic words i cannot grasp and call as ours.

my love for you seeps out of the vintage texts—
unfinished; refusing to fill out the blanks and questions.

in vain —
that’s what all it was.

no more, no less.
g, this one is for you (again)
nadine Jul 5
i fancy
using flamboyant words.

"you make me feel like ****"
shifts into
"you have left me
in such a state of perplexity
that even i can
absolutely not comprehend."

"i am heartbroken"
turns into
"the existence of pain and longing
makes itself wont
to the confines of my heart,
making a home out of it.”

"i hate you"
morphs into
"a surfeit of sentiments
fill the pail to the brim,
i could only make sense
of abhorrence clinging onto my head."

every time
i wear my heart on my sleeve,
misery emerges
from the shadows
and torments me --
i cannot be
liberated from
the never-ending loop of misfortunes.

i yearn that these
bitter emotions
diminish into nothingness
until not even an iota of thought
could mar me.

i yearn that these
senseless cluster of letters
find their way back to you--
just as it should be.
mercury retrograde
nadine Apr 16
id like to think
that you never left

id like to think
that i didnt hear the reverberation of the door
closing in on the two of us.

ive made a fort
out of unwanted memories
i desperately try to keep at bay
but they keep on calling out to me like it was a graveyard
reaching for victims
bewitched by consternation

broken mirrors,
mangled sheets,
drive thrus in the ungodly hours, awkward silences,
cut outs of what we shared together —

those things
could never compare with
how i feel so at home
with another being's body before

all my life,
all i ever did
was give such tumultuous love
and receive none of it back.

so id like to pretend
even though
i am constantly marred by reality.
sad hours
nadine Apr 14
i have learned to love in silence —
eyes no more than just a glance,
arms engulfing my frail stature,
fingers grazing your flesh,
lips knitted tightly
so not to speak of
how irrevocable i could love.

this quaint affection which i give to you
was returned by no more than
just hushed confabulations and regret.

and so i learn to love in silence —

for you are much more of an art from afar
that i do not dare wish to taint you
with my mere nothingness.

for i cannot speak of
how i would toss and turn
in the dead of the night,
wishing of what could have been;
how i am besotted with your existence painted in bright and vibrant tints.

loving in silence
had become a matter
that my heart is wont to do

and not an ounce of surprise
rushes to me when i hear nothing
but the soft zephyr.
the cicadas cried, so did i.
nadine Mar 15
there was a girl who cried wolf;
it echoes from the hollows of crevices
until it inevitably comes back to her --
it only welcomes her with silence.

and i stand there and watch
as she continues to cry wolf.

the river -
gushing, flowing, full of life -
it stops to listen to her wishes.

the wind -
withdraws from crafting a tempest
and stills.

planted in my own roots,
i sit and hear her howls of desperation.

now, sans woe bellows
from her sunken cheeks,
frail body clad in loneliness.
a ghost of a smile
marrs her rose-colored face.

"liberated," she said, "i wish to be liberated."
silence comes back to greet her.
nadine Jan 14
this is what it feels like to love you;

its almost as if
im a meager child
waiting by the windowsill,
leaving parts of myself
i thought i didnt need anymore,
yet as days and nights flash
before my eyes,
i wonder if this is how
i dreamt to be
when i tuck myself to sleep.

its almost as if
im walking in the darkness
with nothing to guide me
but my own foolishness,
grasping at any broken material
just to keep me from falling —
yet much to my own dismay,
i lie here in the cold floor –
mangled and barren.

and i ponder;

is the universe
trying to keep us together
or apart?

this is what it felt like to love you;
just as how icarus loved the sun.
too besotted.
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