Your traces of love on my heart and skin still do yearn for your presence...

Three years ago to this very day,
I signed something of my soul away;

But that is love that doesn't last,
And present lives the longing past,
Though nothing of your face remains
In aught I look at, and the pains
Are well-healed scars, and I did best
To put all mementos to rest,
I even ceased to sing your songs,
Then made them my own, for these wrongs;

And still something of your prosody
Remains in my voice's melody.

i won't leave traces
     that i'm changing into different faces
fooling people of my desires
i'm stranded on a wire
with just one wrong step,
     people will know the depth
     of my longing.

i'd like to think i'm only indulging
and will not forever be craving:
     the taste of your lips
     the way your hands fall into my hips
          as our breathes mingle
          as our tongues entangle
making my body all tingly,
leaving your scent into me.

there will be no traces
of this poisonous fruit my heart chases
     because this is just a phase
     i'll sober up one of these days

but for now,
     let your traces seep deep into my bones
     and let the room be filled with both our moans.

I'm jealous of everything—
maybe because of how your life just goes by without any traces of me on it, I couldn't even get a chance to say how I love your hair falls perfectly on your face.

maybe, I'm just a moon, without your light, I'm nothing. You're everything like the sun.

I cannot escape memories
Absence haunts all I do
When eyes close your face is what mind sees
Every place I go there are traces of you

On my exploration, there are still secrets
that kept under my  sleeves; it would be a
twisted knife in my defenseless night.

Between the heaven and sea,
there are traces of him, keeping me
haunted and wandering at it.

Between the orbs and galaxies,
we're building towers,
we're praying and pleading for a myriad miracles,
I nestled gently on his lips,
it was all downhill.

I see faces and flowers
on loose pages—
it smiles at me from
a crumpled paper, addressed
to the fire, its embers were
keeping it ablaze.

How happy it was to paint the
room blue in the middle of summer,
dancing through the sound of the creaks
under my footsteps— everything is just right.

How treacherous it was, a wistful memory
they were remnants of unsettled stories
and unforgiven departures; I stood
on a shipwreck
where everything is a lost.
the uncertainty would be tall
and I am more will for the fall,
are these things crosses your mind?
I wouldn't bear crossing out your name.

This is how we paint room blue; creeping
on the cracks of the floor, memorizing your
gaits as I follow your traces.