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πš πš‘πš˜πšŽπšŸπšŽπš› πšŒπš•πšŠπš’πš–πšŽπš
πšπš‘πšŠπš πšπš‘πšŽπš’ πš πšŽπš›πšŽ πš’πš— πš•πš˜πšŸπšŽ πš πš’πšπš‘ πšπš‘πšŽ 𝚜𝚎𝚊,
πšπš˜πš›πšπš˜πš πšŠπš‹πš˜πšžπš πš’πšπšœ πš‘πšžπš›πš›πš’πšŒπšŠπš—πšŽπšœ.
πšπš˜πš›πšπš˜πš πšŠπš‹πš˜πšžπš πš’πšπšœ πšπšŽπšŠπš› 𝚘𝚏 πš›πšžπš—πš—πš’πš—πš πšπš›πš’.
//πš–πš’ πšœπšŽπšŠπš πšŠπšπšŽπš› πš•πš˜πšŸπšŽ πš πš’πš•πš• πš—πšŽπšŸπšŽπš› 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚎 πš’πš˜πšžπš› πšœπš™πš›πš’πš—πš πšπš•πš˜πš πšŽπš›πšœ
Dec 2020 · 79
chang cosido Dec 2020
I shouldve known
to better leave the gaps
between my fingers just gaps.
To not fill the space between my lips
when it's slightly parted.
To not fill my nose with your scent.
To not fill my mind with thoughts of you.
To not fill the emptiness
with something in your form.
Because whole things,
complete pieces ,
only know how to break.
Dec 2020 · 178
what i ask from sunsets
chang cosido Dec 2020
when the sun
kisses the sea orange,
my father comes home with sawdust
caked underneath his nails.
i remember how my mother
brushes them clean
until the water becomes yellowish,
like the sun.
That night, we will tuck ourselves in.
But i'll still be left at dusks.
wishing for that very same one,
where their worries would recede,
like the orange.
Where they will not have to think
about tomorrow
too much.
chang cosido Nov 2020
in storybook endings ,
the princesses
found their princes.
The valiant heroes
chases away all the dragons.
The lost would find
their way home.
And people would find
what they've lost.
But then, whatever happened
to those who fell in love
with the dragons instead?
The damsels,
who became too comfortable
with their own distress?
still mad at disney
Nov 2020 · 244
coven dreams
chang cosido Nov 2020
in one of my dreams,
I was a witch.
burning .
at the stakes.
prodded by pitchforks.
stabbed with daggers
behind my back.
the talking was loud.
their hateful eyes were louder.
then i woke up
realizing the thin line
between dreams
and consciousness.
it almost made no difference.
ive seen those eyes somewhere.
of those who want to
burn me at the stakes ;
stab me with daggers
behind my back.
always been wanting to
darling, I am a witch
you could not burn.
chang cosido Nov 2020
my hands are full
and my fingers are breaking
for counting my sins
and all of my flaws.
so i apologize
if couldnt hold myself together.
Nov 2020 · 131
chang cosido Nov 2020
I should stop this fruitless job
β€Žof keeping obsolete little things
β€Žthat never did
β€Žanything good for me.
β€ŽMaybe i should start
β€Žby unfolding old unsent letters
β€Žbare from the enthusiasm i used to
β€Ženvelope them in.
β€ŽThen, i'll throw away pretty glass bottles,
emptied by their contents
β€Žof sweet perfumes and wild dreams.
β€ŽPick up plastic beads ,
β€Žloose from the strings tied
by friendships
β€Ži used to wrap around my wrists.
β€ŽI should discard useless trinkets,
β€Žcute nothings and dead mementos.
β€ŽDeclutter and make room-
β€Žfor other things ,
β€Žlike self-appreciation,
β€Žmaybe a pen
β€Ž or two.
Oct 2020 · 209
just pens on skeletal hands
chang cosido Oct 2020
there are days
i only feel like a burden.
someone who fills backseats
so that someone could be at the front.
and the weight of my own bones
are too heavy for a family name to carry.
heavy enough to crush a sorry girl.
my breaths are sometimes apologies
people refuse to hear.
im sorry if i am this way.
i wish i could be something more.
Oct 2020 · 363
chang cosido Oct 2020
you promised me
that if i stared at the moon
long enough
i would find myself the face of a man.
but i know all the faces
the moon wears,
and the spectacle of stars
that sparkle on her hair.
Tonight,it's just this one.
an honest expression.
there's no meaning tonight,
only truth -only hurt.
Tonight, there's only this city
under a shattered moon.
Tonight, im crying myself to sleep again.
Oct 2020 · 84
time made us like this
chang cosido Oct 2020
a lot could happen
in the months within a year.
and a lot could happen
in the weeks within a month.
a lot could still happen
in the days within a week.
and lot could happen
in the hours within a day.
if a lot could happen
in the minutes within an hour,
then maybe a lot could still happen
in the seconds within a minute.
if maybe within the gaps
between those seconds
you could still find time
to think about me again,
maybe a second is all
that i could ever need.
A second could be enough.
Oct 2020 · 132
how the past makes us
chang cosido Oct 2020
does growing up
ever hurt for you?
because for me,
it did.
i wasn't really quite prepared
for losing my shell
losing that child-like innocence ,
and losing .
but i did.
and i did it unrelentingly.
Then i lost enough to make a sea.

In that sea of everything you lost
you see yourself bobbing
on the waves.
gasping for air.
it doesn't come.
and in the sea of things you've lost,
saltwater will fill your lungs
until the sea becomes you.
Sep 2020 · 696
a solo traveller
chang cosido Sep 2020
πšπš˜πš—πš 𝚒𝚘𝚞 πš”πš—πš˜πš ?
πš’πšŸπšŽ πšπš›πšŠπšŒπšŽπš πš–πšŠπš™πšœ
πš˜πš— πš’πš˜πšžπš› πšœπš”πš’πš—
𝚜𝚘 πš–πš’ πšπš’πš—πšπšŽπš›πšπš’πš™πšœ πš”πš—πš˜πš 
πš πš‘ich πš™πšŠπš›πšπšœ 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚘𝚞 πš‘πšžπš›πš
πšŠπš—πš πš πš‘ich πš™πšŠπš›πšπšœ πšπš˜πš—'𝚝.
πš’πšŸπšŽ πš–πšŽπš–πš˜πš›πš’πš£πšŽπš
πšŠπš•πš• πšπš‘πšŽ πš›πš’πšŸπšŽπš›πšœ
πš’πš— πš’πš˜πšžπš› πšŸπšŽπš’πš—πšœ
πšŠπš—πš πš’ πš”πš—πš˜πš 
πš πš‘πšŽπš›πšŽ πš’πš πšŠπš•πš• πšŽπš—πšπšœ.
πš’πšŸπšŽ πšπš›πšŠπšŒπšŽπš πš–πšŠπš™πšœ
πš˜πš— πš’πš˜πšžπš› πšœπš”πš’πš—
𝚜𝚘 πš πš‘πšŽπš— πš–πš’ πšπš’πš—πšπšŽπš›πšœ
πšŠπš›πšŽ πš—πš˜ πš•πš˜πš—πšπšŽπš› πšπš‘πšŽπš›πšŽ
𝚝𝚘 πšπš›πšŠπšŒπšŽ πš’πš,
πš’πš πš πš’πš•πš• πš”πš—πš˜πš  πš‘πš˜πš 
𝚝𝚘 πšŠπšŒπš‘πšŽ πšπš˜πš› πš–πšŽ.
Sep 2020 · 275
chang cosido Sep 2020
Someday doesn't mean reassurance -
a pocket for small , frail hopes.
Someday means someday will arrive.

Make her a dress.
With your own two hands.
Out of nothing and everything.

When someday comes,
make her beautiful
for yourself.
chang cosido Sep 2020
My mother's been asking me
about where I've been.
But I'm a younger version of her
with my father's eyes
and a tongue of my own.

The sun painted my skin
the same color as the history
of skins before me.
The same stretch insecurities carved
too lightly; for now.

My name is from the people before me;
Am I supposed to carry their ghosts when they leave?
How heavy does a name weigh?
Especially when it sounds like expectations?
Sep 2020 · 549
chang cosido Sep 2020
i have forced myself
to fit into different skins
so many times ;
like how water takes the
shape of its containers.

how many persons
do i have to become
before i could truly
become myself?
Aug 2020 · 215
and life goes on
chang cosido Aug 2020
i hate the world
for still going on,
like it has
completely forgotten
about what happened to us.

Like it has
completely forgottenΒ Β 
about people like us.
chang cosido Aug 2020
Sleep calls from a distance
I turn; on a bed of yesterday's tears
and tomorrow's dreams.
The weight of their expectations
lies heavy like a nursing baby
on my chest.
I do not want it.
I'm afraid the bed is too small
for the both of us.
Aug 2020 · 822
the love in someone's eyes
chang cosido Aug 2020
you just started fading away
like colors left under the sun
for too long.
I didnt mean to.
Aug 2020 · 200
an uninvited guest
chang cosido Aug 2020
you cant always make pain leave.
it knows its directions.
it knows how to follow you home.
pain knows its way to your sheets.
it knows which side of the pillow is colder.
if it ever visits you tonight
just let it in,
lead it to the blank pages
of a notebook.
it will stay.
between these lines,
this is where it stays.
Aug 2020 · 302
chang cosido Aug 2020
this body will never know
that the sea surface
could also beΒ Β gentle and kind.
it will only know
the sea's hunger for
things it could claim.
but then again,maybe,
this body was not built
for such gentleness and kindness.
this body was made to sink.
it knows that sunken cities
dont kiss the ocean floor
in a haste.
it knows because
it has been doing it
for years,
- slow,passionate.
all those towering dreams
it spent on building
some unpaved asphalt roads,
some rooms full of strangers,
some quiet places,
some homes made with strength,
some little cosmos patches.
All drowning and sinking.
Just because
i was too afraid to swim.

//but maybe atlantis is a home for lost,hopeless people like me.

— The End —