Love fails to mend my broken heart
The loneliness offers more than what love can give
I have no choice but to give in to my lonely soul
Though my heart is full of love, just not enough.
It used to grow and filled me with joy
Untill you decided to pull the plug
And die on my arms.
I try to reach in and give you my all that's left
But your walls are now fortified with the love I gave you.
How can I fight my own, I can't break in.
I am frightened to breath
I cry at the move of my blood as my veins fails to refill my emptied heart.

Today, I write for you.
I poured myself as an ink
and used it to put my feelings
into words I wish you’d read.

Last night I waited until twelve
counting down for the moment
we were supposed to celebrate
together. But as I lay wide awake
at two in the morning
on my sea of sheets,
I felt the chills
of a desolate January night
which was made lonelier
and colder
because you’ve put out the light.

So today, I write for you
even though I am so scared.
Because each time I transform
my emotions into words,
the memories come
like crashing waves.
Still, I gave in and
let myself write for you
although it is a very painful thing to do.
I took out the notebook
with dedications you’ve never knew
and made love with words
because I couldn’t do it with you.

Darling, you are
my bittersweet muse
and I let it take over
even just for today.
I let the poetry
drift through my veins
and created poems
in a melancholic, agonizing haze.
I wrote you
a long love letter
and talked about our memories
and promises,
your beauty,
strength,
and sweetness,
my enduring love
and unyielding hope
and fiery passions.
Honey, I tried to write them all;
but words are not enough
for the magnitude of my devotion.

Today as I write for you,
I let myself take
a glimpse at your photos.
And as always, I felt
a painful pang in my heart
When I see you hold her hand.

So tonight, my love,
let me write for you
these words I’m not even sure
if you will ever read.
But dearest, I’d cut my skin
and open my veins for ink
to write you
these poems
and songs
and letters
and stories
as I cry myself to sleep.

— ibcn
01.15.15

The recollection of screaming and
tears breaks every wave of my
thoughts. The sheets remembered
the melody of you, and I can still
smell you dancing within in the air
of my desolated thoughts.


The screams had made a home inside of
my ears, and I brought them forward
everyday; I just wanted to remember
something of you.

Your tears.
Oh, God.
Your tears.
I drowned in them every night.
I never bothered to learn the
swim; I felt closer to you the
more I struggled to pull a
harrowing breathe from the lungs of
a being I did not recognize as myself.

I felt closer when meals turned into
a nightmare; when my bones stabbed
at my skin; threatening to push through
the shell of me.

I especially felt close when the metallic
barrel of my father’s gun whispered
sweet nothings; appealing demons I had
buried six feet under.

But even though I tried to feel so close
to you again,
I could not forgive the memories
within my mind for bringing
you home to me everyday. -DDF