shyrill Dec 2017
i used to believe in this certain kind
of the abstract concept of love:
one that lights up the skies with stars
in strokes of yellow and blue and white,
of galaxies falling down on earth
and collecting in the prettiest pair of eyes.
i used to believe it was a ball of fire
contained in the hollow cavities of the heart,
and once tapped it explodes through your veins, down your bones
and you feel the most alive.
i used to think it'll consume your soul
and believe me i wanted to be devoured,
so i scoured the earth in search of a love
that's been misguided from the very start.

don’t even think, i’ll give you a spoiler:
it didn’t end happily ever after.
i’m not a princess, there is no prince,
there’s no curse to be broken by true love’s first kiss.
the stars were but the dots of blue and red lights
pulsating with the loud music of a dark dingy bar,
the galaxies were but the swirl of liquor in a glass,
the fire but the small orange light bulb up above.
lips and bodies move, they collide,
still there’s a harrowing emptiness inside,
hands that reach for what i usually hide
can’t seem to touch the deepest recesses of my heart. how it pines —
how it yearns,
for a spark that’ll rekindle,
for a hearth to tend in the cold evening air.
i once thought it could love
with all the love i contain inside,
and be loved,
by a frozen heart that seeks no one.

don’t even think — i did say earlier —
it never ends happily ever after,
and the aftermath?
it was a heart
a heart
that lost its feeling
a heart
that’s always hurting
a heart
both fearing and willing
a heart
made of paradox and irony.

this certain kind of love,
i still wonder where it is found.
obviously not
from the boy with a sweet smile and crinkled eyes,
with words woven from the depths of his soul
that wrapped its tendrils around my heart;
from the girl with a cigarette between her lips
donned in clothing as dark as the streets at night,
as dark as the soul she’s nurtured inside;
from the boy with wide eyes of innocence,
whose lips consumed me as if i was air,
who wanted me for my body and nothing else;
not from him
not from her
not from them
then where
pray tell me, dear, where
do i rest my heart
from this certain kind of love?

i’ve been taught to give
and i’ve been giving
and giving
and giving
i’ve been taught not to expect
and believe me, i’m trying.
but how long can a heart take
before it completely breaks
for i’m starting to get wounded from the fallen pieces —
i’m running out of love to give.
is there a remedy for a heart that is weary?
will i ever see stars and galaxies?

this night has gone on for far too long,
it’s a tale with no ending. an unfinished song
with no melody,
no harmony,
just a simple monotony.

the universe expands to unknown boundaries
and will one day collapse into a single centrality
when all is spent of its contained energy.
so will my heart;
for it expands,
it extends,
it reaches,
for this certain kind of love that was promised
by the world who has always been selfish —
and there is none.

my heart?
it is done.
i am done
i am done
believing in something
so abstract it won’t even
make itself real for me.
the stars are but remnants of dead ***** of fire,
the curse a sorry excuse for a lie.

settling for less than what is right
for the heart will cause it to lose its light,
**** its fire.

i’m burnt out.
hoping to perform this as spoken word someday
shyrill Dec 2017
i wouldn't want to be the one to say goodbye,
the one who leaves hearts broken in each and every stride.
i wouldn't want to be the one who walks away,
for in almost every tale they are told as the villain.
i'd want to be the person who tried their best to stay,
though you never asked of me, patiently i did wait.
i'd want to be the one who would not let you go,
but if you'd do the opposite, i beg of you, let me know.
shyrill Dec 2017
with the black shirt he wears
and the black cloth around his wrist
with all his pain and agony,
white lies through fake smiles
got me.

there's a game:
whoever feels the most loses.
we both knew the rules
he is an expert, i was new
and i thought i could learn.
i am losing.

every night he gets *****
on his tears, on drinks,
in his despair, with alcoholics,
on lips that aren't mine,
and i tell myself i'm fine.

i can't feel for you, i tell them
the rules say it's forbidden,
but beneath the coy smile
and my own white lie,
i know i do.
and i'm losing.

hey you, i care
and you say the same of me as well.
but i mean my words with all my heart,
yours just run on the surface.

i'm not fine. i'm losing.
and i'm so tired of depriving
my heart to feel,
and the seams are tearing
from all the strings pulling.

hey you, if it means you keep your smile,
your laugh, and your warmth,
i'll hold your hand through all the lies
and believe i'm fine.
I wrote this back around a month ago. I'm over this feeling already but I just want to post it here. Same person from 'to the boy whose eyes disappear when he smiles'. We're good friends now
shyrill Dec 2017
is a force of
between objects of
a certain distance
and the farther these
two objects are apart it is
much weaker;


this force between the two of us
no matter how far the distance
I find only to be
getting stronger  not proportional
to how far apart we are,
but proportional to the time I spend
knowing you’ll be there
even if you are not mine.
shyrill Dec 2017
do you ever think about the small instances
where you’ve made choices
unknowingly, out of haste
and maybe if you haven’t,
things would have been very different?

if i have chosen to stay where i was
seated and crying for a broken bond,
would you have found me?
would you have stood up and looked at me
like you’ve been searching for a long time?

if your friends didn’t call for me
seated, dazed from an earlier kiss
would we have separated without even touching again
nor meeting each other’s eyes?

i can’t seem to recall your face, do you know?
it always leaves my mind.
if it’s the alcohol
or my heart building walls,
i wouldn’t want to know,
i wouldn’t want to break my heart another time.

until when will you hang around?
everyone leaves after a while
can we have some more fun
before you’re completely gone?
i am definitely not made for the modern culture of hook-ups
shyrill Dec 2017
You hide the scars beneath your sleeves,
with a smile drawn between your lips,
“There is no pain here.”
“I am happy.”
How many lies have you uttered through close teeth?

There’s a mask that you wear,
a shield that you bear,
and when you walk you are unafraid
for fear has died with everything else,
“What’s a feeling?”
“There is nothing.”

The blood reminds you that you’re still alive,
The pain reminds you that you’re just alive,
And the only reason you’re still breathing
is you can’t bear to have that person crying.

Stay alive.
Stay alive.
Do your own words mean anything
to your already beaten mind?
“Remember you are loved,” you always say,
Are you aware that you are, as well?

All the scars,
All this pain,
All the bruises,
And all your tears,
Would you let me hold your hand through it?
I wrote this poem for a friend who's suffering from a multitude of mental health problems, and yet he still reminds everyone everyday to stay alive. this also was the first poem I've written after months of not writing anything, his own poems have inspired me to write.

— The End —