I'm the theory in your head
I'm the theory that's painted red
Planted in your garden bed

The choir of furies in your stead
The pack of doubts that never fled
She's the monstrosity that tore you to shreds
And I'm the ghost that saw how you bled.

I tried so hard.
I tried to be pretty and funny and spontaneous. I tried to be better for you.

I know you’re not supposed to change yourself for someone, but I honestly feel like you were bringing out the best in me.

You didn’t make me change myself. I chose to. So it hurts that I still wasn’t good enough for you.

You didn’t try very hard. You didn’t have to.

I was head over heels for you, and you knew it. You abused it.

Now you’re gone, and I can’t even recognize myself.

I was there when you need someone. I was there when your world is so dark. I was there yet you still chose her. Why? What's wrong with me? Am I not enough?

He knows I'm not perfect.
He knows all my flaws too well.
He knows there's a void in me no one could fill.
And yet he chose to love me still.

Although I strut like a bright plumed bird
I do not choose-
As a man, I am chosen.
I noted your face first I thought
but it was you who
selected mine. You
who arranged our first well-considered
copulation, who washed and aired
the sheets two days before-
You who arranged the hour.
I who complied.

There were so many ways by which she can heal herself  
but she chose me.

She chose to help
others against
pursuing her
heart.
She take care of
the weak.
She's like the
guardian of the
sick

-HIY

knowing him was
her choice.
With all the
worst the had
happened,
She chose to
carry on.
She stood strong.
Even when broken.
He came like
wind,
Gentle and
natural;
To her skin.
Filling every
gaps of void,
of once she
called heart.
He's nothing new,
Yet different
entirely.
For she could
feel more;
Know herself
more.
Knowing him was
intentional.
Loving him; No.

-HIY

The colors that have drained
from the dreams of people,
lie cluttered on the doorway
of their homes.
Everytime they try to leave
for something more practical
and more safe life, that they chose,
that awaits them everyday
and does not keep them worrying
about what all they can loose.
Everytime they step out,
even in hurry,
they sidestep that clutter.
Look at it from the corner of their eyes
and for a second their heart seems aware
of the frost that is killing it.
For a second the reasons for the
sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled.
But the limbs keep moving
to keep a distance from hopes
that never materialize.
On their way back home
they dread to see
the clutter of discarded dreams.
But they want to believe
that ignoring and forgetting it
becomes easier with time.
Although it never has.