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How selfish of me,
to crave a happy ever after,
when I have already tasted forever
in a fleeting moment with you.

It was enough
to carve your name into my bones,
to make the world without you
feel smaller, emptier, colourless.

And yet…
if once was all I was given,
if forever was just a heartbeat,
then I would choose it again.
And again.
And again.

Because even as a wound…
our love was still the sweetest eternity.
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Psychosa Sep 9
How I long to be mad again.
My soul searches endlessly for your Pandora's box.

To be mad is to be free from all that consumes me,
To be consumed by you.
I have shielded myself from many a lover,
in hopes that one day I will fall back into your serpentine trance.  

Drive me to the brink of sanity;
send my mind once again into your abyss.
Lay me down so I may forevermore feel the horror of your kiss.
Am I beyond saving?
Is this silence permanent?
Is this pain just penance in disguise?
or is it the weight of change dragging me forward?
The truth is—if I change,
I want it to be for her.
Not for the next empty word called “love.”
I want it to be real this time.
Not performative. Not reactive.

We were passionate, raw,
a force to be reckoned with.

We waged war with hearts still tethered.
Fitted like puzzle pieces carved in chaos—
Two magnets caught in a dance of push and pull.

Still, we were a team. A twin flame.
Bonnie & Clyde.
We loved with force and vibrance.
Peace, and malice.
Wicked and delighted.
We were not the calm,
but the storm that washes away the pain.
So, I pray in the quiet corners of my mind
that she’s somewhere, doing the same—
growing, healing, hurting, hoping.
That this is the cocoon phase.

Before the miracle of us begins again.
Countdown
It’s almost as sure as the apocalypse, or centennial planetary alignments, as old as time and as sure as the sun setting, its rising, it’s within the air, waiting. An ancient curse spelled on us ever since the dawn of the day, ever since our inceptions.

Yet this second, all of that doesn’t matter.
When my pink nail beds, shone under our dimmed, warm, bedroom light.
As my fingers races each others all over the warm surface,
the trails I left on you are beaming, you’re incandescent.
Almost looks like cracked earth’s surface with lava underneath.
The true you peeking through.

And when you sighed the deepest sigh,
I can almost hear primal bellow ripping through,
the hunger, the thirst, the longing, the glistening molten gold,
ready to drench and mold me into one of your statues,
and with your faintest lick from my collar bone to my left earlobe,
in between these sheets and my moan you whisper,
“Nothing is permanent, my baby.“

And I think it’s safe to say that I am about to burst
my bubble. As I burst under you, with my half-closed teary eyes, blurry,
And my longing mouth opened, looking for yours.
And you keep thrusting me even after, spasm-inducing ******,
like running through the rain and got drenched all over,
water is seeping in to my shirt, my undergarments, absorbed in to my pores.
Its coldness is almost deceiving, contradicting itself when warmth appears gradually.
Enveloping me. You’re my hypothermia.
The pain I embrace, the pain I wore with pride, the death I welcome.

Acknowledging our fate is the beauty, of cherishing what we have deeply.
The fear of losing each other is nothing, compared to our rendezvous,
we have endured it again and again, to even notice how hurtful a good-bye is.
I am left in smug, knowing that even though, your touches will forever perish soon,
I would still find you next time.

and as much as I wanted to curse our fate, thinking that we’re ******,
way too deep, the trench of Mariana depth,
the footprints we have left,
breaths we let out,
sounds we made,
dreams we dreamt,
words we've spoken and written down,
all through times,
are all true and I am here because of you.

my love, if forever we need to run from fate that seeks to claim,
and forever we have to endure until there’s not enough to maim,
then I don’t mind,
they better have a good aim.
28/01 – 04/04
2022
About a Muse,
South Tangerang, Banten
rk Jul 8
the first time we met
a chance encounter
on my way out the door
yet something
held me in place
your eyes keeping me
in your rose kissed grasp

we met
and i wondered
how i could already
have so much love
for one person
it was as if we'd fought together
on the same battlefield
swords clashing
shields in place
fighting for each other
again and again

maybe then
it's not too much to hope
that there is another world
in which we made it
choosing each other
above all else
a place
where roses bloom
on the bloodiest battlefields

we met
and i knew that i had loved you
in every lifetime.
You crafted a shrine for me,

adorned me with wings,

elevated and sacred, untouched by your secrets.

Your last chance at redemption,

a sanctuary where you hid from yourself.

Your perfect lie—

an illusion of salvation.

Once shattered, your adoration

twisted into disdain.

The hand that shaped my wings,

became the force that broke them.

And now, you watch me fall

from the heights you once placed me upon.


Yet I release you, I forgive you,

Love, a quiet thread that ties us still,

A spark woven into the fabric of time,

Never truly gone, but transformed,

gently fading

into the glow of what we were.

I return sometimes to those moments,

not with longing, but with reverence—

like that stolen kiss—

unexpected, breathless,

the words "I love you" spilling from me,

uncontainable, truthful,

your arms, holding me,

an electric hum between us.



This is how I'll hold us—

in the warmth of what we were,

not in the sorrow that followed.

When you remember me,

let it be the quiet depth of my love that remains,

the warmth of my hand resting softly on your

cheek,

the steady, unwavering gaze that held you,

unchanged by time.

Let that be what stays with you—

not the deafening silence that followed,

not the weight of what we lost,

but the light that we held, even just for a moment,

so close to perfect but fragile.

Not perfect enough.
Oh how we love the ones who can teach us both heaven and hell…
Lyteweaver Jun 19
We're running on a borrowed memory
of fading energy
that's losing its fire and desire to burn.
Strike a match next to
my heart
to
ignite the wick of serendipitous
romance
as we catch flame together
incinerating
stored pain and trauma
until we combust and turn to ash
in a dusty pile on the earth
swirled
together
for eternity.
Stephen Knox Mar 27
As best friends go, you really weren't great.
Much like my wife, who was also an eight.

There were times that you fumbled and bumbled some care.
The whole time remaining, not really there.

I miss having someone, to show myself to.
I keep it inside now, not sharing with you.

Why does it bother and hurt me so much.
To not know the reason, to why we lost touch.

Now I just move, from one moment to next.
Since looking behind me, just leaves me perplexed.

I still want for you, all the things you may need,
Like abundance in wealth, or a buttload of ****.

Now when I think of you, once in a while.
Remembering things, that you said, makes me smile.

If you don't see me, only message I send.
Notice the things, that don't break, instead bend.

These words that I've written and needed to say.
Repairing tomorrow, through feelings today.
Identified Mar 12
I don’t wish to close my eyes
while you sleep.

I don’t wish for time to slip away
while you smile.

I wish to fall asleep by your side
if one day it rains.

I love your white essence,
and also your dark one.

I love when you give yourself in parts,
and also when you give yourself completely.

I love your tenderness,
and also your hardness.

A tiny body,
but a soul of greatness.

A dark past,
but a radiant present.

A deep toughness,
but an incomparable kindness.

A little shy,
but of immeasurable courage.
I wrote this text addressed to the universe months ago. When I gathered all my poems together, I realized that this person had arrived. The universe had granted my wish.
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