engulf me
drown me
submerge me
find a way into every crevice
of my face, my hands, my body

spend time with me
get to know why i'm always awake at 3 am
and why the dark terrifies me

know all my secrets
to the point that i'll feel bare
even when i'm fully clothed

love me
hate me
take control of me
leave me broken and bruised
more than i'll ever be

i am not
letting you go,
but i will not
hold on to you, either

do you ever feel like
you’re the most unlovable person
in the entire universe?
that no matter how hard you try,
you’re just a tiny fish
in the endless sea, one of many

do you ever crave for love so deeply
because you feel so broken,
and you just wanna know what it’s like,
how it’s like for someone
to love you unconditionally

history doesn't repeat itself,
and i guess that's the hardest part of unlearning --
letting go of what once was.

it took me so long to grasp the fact that
that was all there was.
i was so blinded by my love for you;
i kept living in the fantasy of you suddenly
coming back to me one day,
but that's not the case at all.

i've been waiting all these years,
when in reality,
there was nothing to wait for
the moment we parted ways.

i have to remind myself that
you won't come back like how you used to.
we've been walking different paths for so long now,
and we won't be meeting anytime soon.

it wasn’t chaotic.
it was calm and serene,
like the ocean.
the soft pitter patter
of the rain on the roof,
and the cool air it brought.
it was a sip
of freshly brewed coffee,
natural with no additives,
whatsoever.
the gut feeling
of knowing where home was.
and that is how
you came into my life.


the star that shines the brightest
amongst the pitch black sky.
it’s the white cloud that outshines
all the gray and gloomy ones.
the perfect fit of the last piece
to the unfinished puzzle.
it's the warm, fuzzy feeling
of getting into bed
early on a Friday night.
and that is how it was
when I started loving you.


it’s like a deeply cut wound,
one that’s inundating
with crimson colored blood,
having a tinge of maroon.
it induces pain
with every inbreathe
and exhalation.
it manages to have
the appearance of a scar,
yet it still feels so fresh
like a bruise.
and that is how it felt
when you left.


it was filled with haze
and suffocation.
the uncontrollable fast paced beat
of your heart.
Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile,
one that is hardly understood
by majority of the world.
a bite of dark chocolate,
bitter and sweet.
and this is my survival.

maybe in another universe,
where the sun and moon
would seek comfort
in each other
every once in a while,
there was an us.

in this universe,
i wouldn't have to wish
upon a shooting star
for you to be next to me.

the only galaxies
i would get lost in
were the ones
in your twilight eyes.

we were nothing,
but star-crossed lovers,
patiently floating away
in the endless milky way.

The last time I wrote a poem;
It was my first chance at love.
A boy who gently stole my heart,
With his profound words
And charming personality.

I will not cut too deep,
As that was a heart-rending wound,
Which eventually healed
As time patiently floated by.

Here I am now,
With my second chance at love.
He’s sweet, he’s kind;
He’s the right amount of honey
Added to balance the bitter taste of tea.

All I’m saying is that
There are different kinds of love
A person will journey through;
It might hurt, it might bleed,
It might even make you cry.

However, at the end of the day,
Love is supposed to make you feel warm;
Like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate
On a cold, rainy day;
Or wearing your favorite sweater
As the weather outside is perfectly cool
With a tad bit of warmth.

long hair cut short.
apology after apology.
jackets often worn,
if not, sweaters or
long-sleeved tops.
anti-social,
not because
i hate people,
but i fear they hate me.
isolation in my bed,
sometimes,
panic attacks
in the bathroom.
constant overthinking,
whether 3 am or 3 pm.
scribbles thoughts
into poems,
but hides them.
pushes away,
even though i want
to pull them closer.

i am not going to beautify our love story
with words that sound like melodies
and events that only happen in movies,
because it wasn't beautiful,
nor was it a love story.
it was a tragedy filled with
the chaos of having the
right person, but the wrong time.

one thousand ninety five days
and i was a second too late.
the end was written
and the book was closed.
us became you and i,
i love you turned into
i loved you,
i looked at you, but
you were already looking at her.
you were supposed to be
the one who stayed,
but eventually became
the one who left.

and now, you're just another story
that i keep in my secret drawer
labeled all the boys i've cried over.

and now,
we're just strangers,
who love each other,
a little too much

we are in solitude with the rain,
and that itself makes us feel like we are not alone
each drop embraces us with serenity,
allowing us to rest our minds and our hearts,
even if it’s just for a short while

how comforting is it to know that the sky sheds tears for when we cannot do so ourselves?