I always had a sense of entitlement
when it came to dreaming of a lover.
That there would be someone
who puts me first.
But I realized with time
sometimes you have to be that someone
who puts others first.
That was such a terrifying and distressing thought.
And suddenly all these heroes
became somewhat out-of-the-world, larger-than-life
someone I can never be.


To realize the pain
it must have taken
to scrap down their lives
for the sake of a person
whose love can’t be trusted or guaranteed.
How one must endure their own foolishness.
How one must look away from our own self.
Knowing all the while
that all this, built
by sacrifices,
can be broken in no time
with one word of hers,
that can end your suffering
and renew your struggle.
That there is no way out.
To cling
or to leave.
And to suffer each minute
no matter what you choose.


It seemed so tiring
It seemed so cruel
to ask someone for that.

I remember the day that I found you
with eyes filled with yearning,
heart filled with doubt
and hands soiled with blood
of the your dreams
that you murdered everynight.
I found you in the land
where we had been banished to,
from a world of happiness
where our loved ones reside.



I remember the day I lost you
to the light
that seemed more cruel than warm.
When you found your happiness and purpose.
When you couldn’t stop humming all day.
when you talked of future with smile.
When you found out what you wanted
and what you wanted was not me.
Makes wonder if I ever really loved you
if I resent you
for having what I want.