old scars don't hurt as much
because you learned to grow
accustomed to the pain.
but just because it hurts less,
doesn't mean you're not hurting.

when everything inside me disappears
and when i'm emptied dry —
it's when i truly come alive.
tattooed in papers,
held by mortal hands;
i am the ink chased down by death,
immortalised in words and letters,
trying (hoping) to be remembered.

these nights —
they hold
the best
and
worst
parts of me.

you taught me that it was okay to be okay with being alone;
because it doesn’t always mean that we’re lonely;
it just means that we were okay with our own company.

and for that, I will always be grateful.

everyone is constantly moving,
and yet here i stand just perfectly still.
but it's okay because i like it.
i like my slow paces.

but i guess we're always
going to be lonely;
and maybe that's just
what it means to be
truly alive.

i hate my weight
and all my weighted thoughts

it's 3am —
and the only demons alive
are those inside my mind

i hate my mind sometimes,
most of the time,
and almost every time.

i have a terrible habit
of ruining the things
i don't want to ruin.

there are happy endings,
and endings that stand
as beginnings,
but sometimes
there are simply just —
endings.

but calm nights like tonight makes me fear what tomorrow might bring.

sometimes we
bloom
in places
we least expect
to grow.

anxieties —
they keep me up,
and now they long
to wither me down

but you have a terrible habit
of glancing up at the sky
then looking down fast
as if you were telling yourself
that you had no right
to admire its beauty

you are love
and chaos
at the same time

and thus i welcome
another morning
without bidding
the night
goodbye.

loud thoughts -
silent tears.

healing hurts.

be yourself
even if
yourself
is just like
the others.

at this point,
i just want
to sleep,
and never
wake up.

but life
is an insomnia
that i can never cure,
so i wake up -
barely alive,
but awake.

but you see -
she has
a tendency
to be silent
when it gets
real loud
inside her head.

and i shall live today
with a more grateful heart,
so that every moment
may turn out to be
the best part.

but you didn't have to love me,
i just wanted you
to at least respect me enough
to stop pretending that you do.

but you have found a home
in someone else's arms,
and I was nothing but a stopover -
before you found your way back to her.

and then the scars -
they fade away
in the morning.
but deep inside,
everything is still there.

and even if this is
the calm before the storm,
i'd still be glad and grateful,
because i had a day like this,
a day like this.

and after everything,
and even despite anything,
you still have every right to be happy.
remember that.

oh and everything is slowly ending,
but i don't know how to
start saying goodbye;

but if i choose to stop it altogether,
can you be the first one to let me go?

you weren't mine to keep,
but you were mine to miss

and as it turns out,
i am but a poet only
of the circumstance;

Our truth is that we live to write,
and we write to live.

Please don't lie to me,
cause I'll know -
and I will still end up believing you.

if growing up meant
bottling it all up inside
then i guess we're just
a bunch of dead bodies
drowned in an ocean of our own despairs.

before i wouldn't dare to imagine walking these streets alone,
yet now i somehow find solitude being on my own.

there are days where
i feel that i am lucky,
and there are days where
i feel that i am not;
there are also days
where i feel like everything is too much,
that all these feelings
are just a lot to take in,
and that i would just explode
considering everything that i am feeling;
but there are days,
no - there are more days
where i feel as though I feel nothing at all,
and that is the worst feeling of it all.

it's hard knowing that
i'll wake up tomorrow
wanting the day to end

i hate that i am broken,
and i don't even know where to start fixing me