it’s gradually getting colder;
sweater weather,
two statements that remind me of you
the other day
a girl told me she sat in her car
waiting for a stop sign to turn green
without the slightest clue as to how much I could relate
in both the literal and figurative sense
I refuse to drink coffee anymore
I can’t look into brown eyes
I used to think Monday mornings were the worst
now every morning is a proverbial Monday
without your presence
this bed is always empty
even with me in it
this house is not a home
just a structure
filled with empty bottles
that echo your name
and faded photographs
that bear a strange resemblance to you

I've found the strongest poems to be the product of
a purge of emotions that reign so ******* the heart that they
pull at the fingers, draining energy from the tips
as every word falls onto the paper,
relentlessly.

I've felt the hollow shatter of a thousand nights of heartbreak,
the kind that only poetry can seem to glue back together
even if temporarily.
The words on the page, unfiltered
broadcast thoughts of late summer days and first loves,
first losses,
our wrists ache with rememberence as our hearts empty out.

We lose what we thought we still held to our souls
as the sentences unfold and we are finally able to articulate
what it means to be without,
what it means to be empty.
Those lines are but udnerstanding, full of compassion that we have still, hidden away in our hearts for the day they start beating again.


Why are the richest of poems products of the poorest of days,
and why can I write nothing anymore
as my heart feels full, for once, again?

i think i have finally understood the concept of moving on for people like me, for people who have a heart like me and also for the ones who love the same way i do.

you see, when you end up loving someone the same way i love - you can never really get over them even when it's over.
when you've integrated someone into your life, making them a part of your life, it stays. they don't just leave your life like that, even when they're already gone.
when you've made someone one of your main sources of happiness and when they stop becoming so - sure, they're just one of your main sources of happiness but just like wifi, full signal is always better than half even though it still works, right?

moving on is never being able to completely look at someone and feel nothing even when you've shared a past together. it's about accepting the fact that you'll never ever have a chance with them ever again, no matter how much you want them. it's crying at night because you can't turn back time to fix things or to feel how much they once loved you. it's seeing them happy with someone new and softly whispering, "if you're happy, then i'm happy too." it's constantly torturing yourself with wishful thinking and hopelessly dreaming about another chance, for them to reconsider their choices of leaving you but feeling suffocated because you know, hope isn't even an option anymore - it's just pointless wishing. it's about understanding that you will never really understand why things didn't work out. it's about putting their well-being and happiness before yours because you know that if yours were prioritized, or even cared about, they wouldn't be as happy as they are today without you. it's about looking forward to go to bed because you can finally see them in your dreams but not being able to fall asleep because the thoughts of the past are flooding your mind like a tsunami.

i could go on for days, but i think you get it.
i think you understand that moving on does not mean you don't love them or care about them anymore, but it means you love and care about them enough to let them be because if leaving you is what makes them happy, so be it. even though it hurts.

so even if i have moved on from you,
(here i go again with the wishful thinking but)
if one day you decide to come back,
please know that i will always welcome you back with open arms and i will whisper, "i have been waiting for you."

love is love
even though his heart does not fit yours

love is love
even though his hands were holding another universe

love is love
even though his lips never land on yours

love is love
even though his moon never back to you

and love is still love
even though
it
     was
             not
                    made
                               for
                                     you

(b.i)

People think
That when you break something,
It has to make a clang,
Or a rattle
Or a smash.
But
The night my heart broke,
No one heard a thing.

one day i will cherish the way my lungs fill
i will indulge in the way wet hair drapes against my skin
i'll forget how it feels to bleed into the sky
i'll find parts of me i lost in the house i grew up in
i will fall in love with the sound of mind
i will no longer decay
i will be the blood in my veins