I remember long texts, and shy long
calls at night; over the limited Wi-Fi.
The rosy cheeks, stomach knots, and awkward
laughs when I was referred to as, "my guy."

"My mans, baby, and the occasional cutie,"
usually after I say something sweet. And making
those gestures at tasting those lips.

The angry rants, unplanned arguments,
unnecessary jabs, soon after the honeymoon
season is gone. The long cries, silent treatments,
and cold shoulders. The missing each other afterwards,
and making dues in maturity, for it grow much older.

Saving up for those dates, cringing afterwards
because of my table manner mistakes.
Coffee for lunch, couple pictures for dinner,
and posting statuses that people can't get enough of.
And the few who got sick of us being love sick,
posting another picture for the week.

The first feeling of love;
oh what a rush. From awkward friends,
into a crush. Head nod greetings, into longer
hugs. How could I forget that feeling of the first
time being in love?

My first feeling of love...

the last day of january
has always been so odd to me, darling
you left me there many days ago with a kiss,
and i've been figuring things out alone ever since
killing parts of myself, when i needed you the most

but look how i seized the days, look how i overcame it
i was merely sad and mopping around the city,
weeping over the trails you left on the streets we've walked on
and there were your eyes over the blue skies
asking everyone, was it ever my fault that we didn't work?

and this year, on the last day of january,
i got my new diamonds and rose gold
i merely checked on my work and to-do list
for the weekdays, i planned my february
you called me last saturday, you're drunk

i said i hope you're okay- and you thought i'd never reply
but i'm always weak for you, and it's january
so i check my phone, i hope you call me again to say hi
but i haven't heard from you in a day
i thought you were just drunk and lonely on saturday mornings
and you happened to remember that i've loved you ever since

and so i prowl back on my work, i am a busy young woman
my schedule: talking to teresa tomorrow,
talking to chris after the new year,
and talking to you no longer feels like talking to a person i love
you're more of a total stranger than the coco i know, than teresa, than chris
you just proved me again that you are never right for me, darling

i miss what i thought i had, i miss you the most of all
and it's very lonely to know
that i have been hurting myself than you ever did,
i hope you know this, but you're not capable of it,
my tiger knows no hurting

and i said wake up and get ready, it's the last day of january, darling
the professor is waiting for you at the door.
and i hope you're okay,
and i hope you're doing well in life

Life has it agenda,
First then second, finally third.
Remind ourselves that memory are faint history;
To let history replay for the future to unfold.
Time weld life into death; so is death to life.
Here I stand, where it all started;
Gazing back, life was once better.
Ultimately, departure is inevitable;
Where else can one go without longing?
Longing are fleeting calling;
Appeared like faint snow, disappeared with one blow.

my first love
i fell in love with being loved.

now i am searching for a love
such that i can fall in love with loving another.

I glance at
an empty seat
an unanswered text
and a cold cup of coffee.

You didn't have to say yes
to a date.

i ventured past the memory lane
and filled the broken soul with delight
it's foolish how first love mended me
in a way not one possibly can
how every reminisce is enthralling to embrace like a glistened storyframe
one that tickles hope of another reason to live;
it's foolish how firsts remain striking
the times that were everglowing, enchanting
there's no need for weariness, when somebody accepted me for who I am
sweared to stay forever–in victories and downfalls.

frightening how a perfectly written story by a god turns stormed and wicked
how my ceaseless heart slowly is tormented
when i thought the first would keep its words
silly of me to assume
but all goes into hues of blues
and when i thought he's the sunlight
to my ****, cold melancholic night

he left on a windy day alike a flowing kite
with no proper goodbyes
and shattered his promises one by one
like a rushing ambulance, crashing dreams in a scene of dawn and fires
at that point, i knew that the garden we've grown are closely wilting
going back at one, a stranger, whom i treated like an art
carefully realizing— no apologies can now return an exhausted heart
no prayers could turn back the twisted time
and no wishes from the stars could heal the scars and damaged mind

hurting thyself, is it a mere nightmare?
my body felt a sensation of falling
not in love, but defying gravity slowly from a skyscraper
at the broad daylight, my old self died
and eternally—a part of me has bid rage and farewell
like a child departing from her long-time bestfriend

in a dilemma, everything has been changing as fast as the thunderbolt
i ventured past the memory lane
and filled the broken soul with regret
it's foolish how first love broke me
in a way not one possibly can
how every reminisce battled me at night
and turned me frail
tomorrow, i knew, there were no reasons to live furthermore

it's foolish how I thought the first would be last,
with all timelines, phases, and secrets shared from past;
however, here's to our history, and to my self
who thought of finding genuine love from a stranger
finally, devouring the crept of once again, being lost.

Searching for love;
feels like a risk
Especially after-
that first kiss.

I may not be going anywhere fast.
But you can bet wherever I go, I won't be last. Because life is not a race; There's no shame with living life at your own pace.
It doesn't matter if you don't move out,
get married, or have a kid until you're 32.
You still have time to make the most of the time you have with the people you love
who love you too.