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3d · 44
I open the door.

It creaks open,
and my fingers tremble at the ****.
Beyond the small window,
and the pounding of my heart.

We are close enough,
and my words are lodged up somewhere-
all at once!

I want to say hello, for you to smile my way.
The yearning in my heart grows stronger,
but aren't we just friends? Can't I just say it?

So why, why, why,
is my body frozen to the door?
To the side?
As you pass by?

I need to move somehow,
just a little bit, *please

But you open another door.

And it closes.
I just wanted to say hello, yet your back only said goodbye.
Sep 10 · 58
The Sky and the Land
Acina Joy Sep 10
We were a country that lived near the equator;
I was the land and you were my infinite sky.
We have lived and witnessed our aeons together.
Each moment fleeting, and passing by.  

The wind whispers, and the creatures rumble
weeping for me the unfair weather I hold
Only the dry seasons and the rainy seasons come by
and the sky, he's always done what he's always told.

When he cries, he creates floods and storms
or peaceful drizzles and ditz so plain
and when's angered, he takes right up
the moistened land and then grants me pain.

At night, he's terribly beautiful and quiet
the stars twinkle like stickers on my attic
The silent love, and the prolonged memories
and what he holds, goes far beyond semantics.

I sung, "Precious sky, I am your earth
the land you watch with clouds and dew
And he replied, "Pretty land, you are my purpose
and there's nothing to take me from you
Acina Joy Sep 9
I'm a quiet woman.
A dangerous one at that.
Give me love, and it's dangerous
for a woman like me.

I don't burn men;
I don't provoke women.
I don't mount weights on my shoulders,
I don't move castles just for myself.

I'm a quiet woman.
A dangerous one,
that once you give me love,
I will swallow lit matches
into my gas-filled lungs
and breathe fire
to my terrible world
to burn, burn, burn
and rub ash on my skin,
hoping it will fix my aching heart.

Hope peace for a dangerous woman like me.
Hope nothing else will fall apart.
hope you enjoyed your day today
Sep 1 · 102
Acina Joy Sep 1
Suddenly, there's more than distance and heat. There's your heart and your soul.

Inside your embrace, and your thrumming flesh. There's more, there's more, I want to know.
I find this feeling pleasant.
Acina Joy Aug 30
I've met him twice; for months; and now years, into jubilees.
His name is Gabriel, and he means regret (in the language my heart only began to speak after him).

The way I know him, sinks deep into my soul like a splinter, hurting me more as he burrows. He refuses to love; is willing to be cared for. Never returns, doesn't even borrow, but nonetheless, he takes, and takes, and takes. He is a selfish man, the regret I've named Gabe.

We once held hands, and when I looked into his eyes, I poured my soul into the void he called his heart. And he took that love-and took it all, all, all and then gave it away.

My heart learned how to write songs because of Gabe. It broke, and it learned, and it began to write as if the endless words I wrote were expectant of the love he never gave; for the hurt he always seemed to be generous upon.

And I drank it all up, with a pinky held high, and he was not made of the substance I thought him to be.  But Gabe was a lesson, was an epiphany, was an age-old history (of aeons of regret).

Yet, he was once the substance that had made me.

A bitter heartbreak over a cup of tea.
Weird long title, but eh, enjoy
Aug 27 · 359
Here Comes the Rain
Acina Joy Aug 27
The rain comes.

A lover cries.
A farmer rejoices.
A lost man is renewed.
A friend has been taken.

Wherever you are, wherever you've been. It is the same.

The rain comes.
If you want an anime recommend, watch Dororo, and specifically, episode 6. I got inspiration from there. :((
Aug 24 · 112
A Hero's Speech
Acina Joy Aug 24
I wish we could all be traditional heroes from way back then, who answered to people's beck and call. But now we've blurred the line between suffering and falsehood, and just as people can scoff at the silenced weak, the words of our present heroes can be as soothing as whispering to a festered wound.
Promise is not in words, but in actions.
Aug 23 · 161
It Once Was
Acina Joy Aug 23

I denied it.

(It isn't love. It isn't love. It isn't love. It isn't love.)

I mean, it was.

Aug 21 · 128
Said the kind man,
Acina Joy Aug 21
"Hear me out, and listen. This is a bad thing, or not necessarily, I know, but you love and you let go when you don't. Why do they blame you? Why do they bother you so? It's because of the fact that they can't get over a love that they so desperately hold onto. I mean, it's understandable to never let go of that love. But is it ever love if  you don't wish for their happines?

Wish for  yours?"
And with a smile, he says farewell to the soul who eagerly listened.
Aug 16 · 274
Acina Joy Aug 16

What do we have left to protect,
when a reason ceases to exist?

watching aot at night, and having flashbacks
Aug 7 · 85
Acina Joy Aug 7
Madeline walks the sun,
falling all apart
to the beat she drums.

Take me far away,
is what she breathes
despite her dismay.

Hold both my hands
he takes a breath
to neverland.

Then they breathe as one,
Madeline walks the sun.
Acina Joy Jul 18
We fill them with love, and love, and love—

then they are filled with love to share with someone else.
Jul 17 · 156
Acina Joy Jul 17

There is no wound deeper than the love that we carve.

He turned to ask me, voice accusing and eyes holding a sense of betrayal.  "Did you tell all the rest of them? About my secret?" His voice never wavered, as if not even hesitating to accuse me (because I was the first person he ever told this secret about). Hurt washed over my chest, and it pressed down, slowly crushing my heart somehow. I was surprised not to have teared up a little, but nevertheless, it was painful to be accused by the person you trust the most.

"No, I didn't," I snapped, rightfully so, offended from his accusation. "I defended you from them, and told you not to tell them, or else they'd tell everyone else in class. Why are you even accusing me when you knew the risks all along?"

I stared up at him, expecting an apology for his accusation, or maybe even a bit of embarrassment or shame. But he narrowed his eyes even more, voice unconvinced and nonchalant, that it nearly made me flinch. "Yeah, right."

And he turned around and didn't look back. And the moment he did, I knew he would never love me, the same way I loved him; with all my heart and soul, that even if he hurt me, I still forgive him to this day, for not trusting me back and loving me the same way he does a stranger.

The same way I wipe away tears to help him gain the stranger he wanted.

I forgive him for leaving me behind.
Jul 10 · 95
Acina Joy Jul 10
Bravery is swallowing iron, belly pooling with lava, as I face towards the horizon. Death croons and taunts, offering their hand, and I give no response.

"There is time for that, but not now. Not yet."

I watch the horizon grow, before I feel Death's icy hands on my neck.
Acina Joy Jul 8
The tips of her lashes
were silver like rainfall,
and her hair was the sea at night,
her flesh was the clouds
obscuring the warmth of the sun,
and her teeth were the glinting knives.

No obsidian dark
could outshine her eyes,
and her words were a painful storm.
The more she breathed,
a new star awoke,
and in the darkness, I grew forlorn.
falling, falling, falling into the darkness of love.
Acina Joy Jul 6
we loved,
and kisses were butterflies,
hugs were butter on toast,
and sunshine was food to the soul
as we loved and was loved the most.
we lived,
and years were but mere moments,
lives were just as opaque as mist,
as seconds lasted morbidly slow eternities,
passing the bits of memories we missed.
we left,
too early for man to heal,
footsteps so light, without simple sound,
lived years of love and pain away,
making me think, "were you even around?"
love, live, leave.

Jul 2 · 99
23 Messages.
Acina Joy Jul 2
Big and bold, in the likeness of capital words
burning through my lids:
"WE ARE DATING NOW!" screams at me
in the darkness.
Tell me why, what little happiness that
resided in my diminutive heart, died down without a sound?
I should be happy; smile graceful, heart light as always,
to know that you have found someone.
He deserves you, and you deserve him.
My feelings don't matter, put way beyond the display,
behind, behind, behind.
You matter to me, and come forward
before everything I know and feel,
metallic taste on my tongue,
heart bursting every so slowly,
yet now, I say otherwise.

The screen remains dark throughout the night.

(23 messages from Your Favourite Girl)
lovely feelings growing in my chest,
roots keep ripping through the mess
Jun 29 · 171
Acina Joy Jun 29
I climb,
in the lip of monsters,
in the best of demons,
rock, fire, ash,
skin dark and flaking,
tongue to the roof,
feet scraping,
to the precipice,
of here and there,
to before, into beyond
"in love"--
"into death".
love can maybe be too much
Jun 25 · 105
Unhealthy Habit.
Acina Joy Jun 25
Shards scatter the kitchen floor;
Joel Adams plays through the radio.
Hearts chained down, wrists throbbing.
Phantoms appear, knocking the lungs empty.
He?--She?--Them; they appear on the table,
where guests are supposed to sit. The counter,
the couch, the bedroom (where guests are not supposed to be).

(But you reminisce, they're not guests anymore.)

The shelves are cold--freezing even, like a snow storm
has passed by. Not only that, but the pillows, notebooks,
that spot on the floor, the jacket, their mug.
Every single thing they've touched, it freezes every time,
and it stays.

Yearning for warmth no longer there.
Fire no longer burns, heat but a necessity.
But there is eternal warmth in the body;
the blood. The kitchen is scattered with shards of
mug, and where warmth is found in blood, fingers
squeeze onto pieces of glass.

Once again, it is warm, it is relief.

You feel warm again.
But where blood and body meet, there is no end nor beginning.
Where there was, there is.

(It's always been like this.)
UCSP class dried me.
Jun 23 · 114
Just One Question
Acina Joy Jun 23
The words are not the same anymore,
wrapped in meanings that are concepts far
beyond my eyes, that fall upon my lips,
empty and bitter and fading.

My poems are like foreign aspects of my life now,
disappearing under my finger tips without further
notice, kneaded into the paper under my palms
and leaving me slowly, dreadfully, painfully.

Who am I now, that my voice has waned?
That the moon on my tongue no longer revolves,
with the earth and the sun, left trap in a desolate darkness
filled with brighter supernovas, and wanton galaxies.

Who am I now?
That the thread of my being has frayed,
and slipped, and weaved, through the contours of the universe,
as I slip easily through the cracks without being chased;
without being noticed (and I regret and regret, and regret, because I wish that they had).

Who are we, now that I'm gone,
and that you've gone with another? That you've followed
in their footsteps, left me, with one foot entering my grave?
With a rough necklace dangling across my collar? With silver lining your eyes, and with an exuberance that comes with letting go?

What are we now, that my poems no longer hold the essence of me,
as it remains to long for you? What are we, that we no longer hold what was once dear for us? What are we now, that the physical form of who I am remains to fade alongside your death? What are we, when all that remains of our past selves are gone?

Who are you?
we have to move on once in awhile, but I can't help but think of you sometimes (or most of the time).
Jun 9 · 107
We all have suffering.
Acina Joy Jun 9
My fascination for the morbid,
and the unthinkable is grotesque
in all manner, though it is something
that I do quite relish
for in the concept of it all,
I am quite taken by the blunt
cruelty of the world,
though I am not such a person.
There is loneliness that drifts
amongst those who breathe
simply to survive;
and then there is struggle
and ache,
and misery,
to those who understand far more
than what I can.

My interest is grotesque indeed,
to simply watch scenes unfold
like the wings of a raven, unfolding
like plastic fans with cheap rings at the end
slowly coming undone
as time wears down the bones;
no longer breathes simply
to survive
Her lips become unsealed,
as she spills her urge to
confront her lover
He hesitates in the face
of an oppressing threat
They cry under great pressure.

I am fascinated, by the flamboyance
of the suffering; their strong strides
that hold no actual magnitude.
Their faux smiles that sing of
fresh blood mixed with their saliva
hiding behind trembling teeth;
strong hands that hold far tighter
than usual, when I comfort them,
and their suffering bleeds out of their wounds
like the lungs do oxygen,
and mind you, it surrounds me like a fog.

I have a morbid interest,
of watching it all unfold,
but that is what I simply am.
I am a bystander; a silent witness.

I simply wonder why these people
have the urge to come undone
before me. Why am I such a good
ear to their loud silence.

But ah, I understand now.
I am the same like them;
as you are me now.
be an ear; be a mouth.
Jun 6 · 199
Beyond the hill.
Acina Joy Jun 6
For days I followed
your looming shadow
stark and black
towards that shining hill,

Used me like a ladder,
climbing to that point,
as I stood below you,
silent and still.

I let you use
all of my limbs,
my body and mind,
torn and bruised

You tore away
my nerves and bits
always expendable
in your use.

You had a heart,
a cryptic mind,
my hero guiding
with his touch,

Who had a side,
of flint and still,
so dark and scary,
that I knew such.

But I never knew
what you were doing
if you asked or you stole
everything in between

As you looked past
that stormy hill
and left everything
that you've always been.
May 29 · 386
Permeate (A Monologue)
Acina Joy May 29
The emptiness rests within me, flowing through my veins and my bones, solidifying the feeling of one-ness that resides within me alone. How do I stop this feeling? How do I stop this un-feeling?

I do not know the answer.  It is unattainable, far beyond the scope of my state of mind. I understand not what makes me starve through the night; what makes my lips ache and crack; what makes me sleep through the day; what makes me lie awake when all I want is to die.

If I am a tapestry, a threaded piece, then all I want to do is to tear my nerve-endings apart, perhaps slowly--or quickly, whichever it may be. I want to pluck every thread and slowly pull myself into mere shreds of who I am until nothing is left. And I want to permeate, like water evaporating through the atmosphere.

Unseen by the naked eye.

Maybe then, when I join the very air I breathe, I will know what it feels like to become something.

To simply belong.
This is how the ache for freedom gradually grows.
May 23 · 114
My Dine with Death
Acina Joy May 23
The sour of the metal spoon
clings to the roof of my mouth.
My eyes water, lips pucker,
as my hands tremble underneath
the low light of the humid room.

The movement of time grates on
my frozen nerves, thrumming
within heated flesh. Death sits across
from where I am, as I feast upon the
offering that life gives.

The food is cold. It is ash in my mouth.
For I have stuck to the same food for so long, I have found, I am not content
with the serving I have chosen. But Death waits patiently, in his alcove
of mystery.

It is time, and I know.

I dine with death, with spoon and fork in hand, and this is the food I have chosen.

This is the life I have lived. My choice that I ponder, and we concede. It doesn't matter what food we eat, with what we eat, and how we eat it. But by the end, I know.

I have chosen something terrible, and Death will hold me by the hand alone, as we leave, side by side, to the door outside.
May 23 · 282
Acina Joy May 23
Here, I face towards the indiscriminate darkness, and before I say I am nothing, I say, "I am one".
Apr 8 · 112
Acina Joy Apr 8
And so, how are we to move on from a love we desperately hold on to?
So, I've past the 100th poem mark. XD
Mar 3 · 161
Acina Joy Mar 3
Out there is a wide universe,
a dangerous universe
filled with quiet monsters,
a louder dissonance.

Wise men have said
that saying your secrets out loud
will set you free,
and break the cage that
houses your confined bird.

I disagree.

There are times
where the world is more dangerous
when it knows the truth,
and though yes, saying the truth out loud
may seem safer for me to stop the darkness
from consuming who I am.

But drowning inside is better,
than setting the world on fire.
i like someone who will never like me, and i feel as if i could never measure up to the people he liked. i dont feel like i might be anything to him. but we're best friends, and i'll never tell him about how i feel. for it may ruin what we both already have.
Acina Joy Feb 25
The beast rolls around the corner,
its head rearing, taunting and playing
the piano keys like Beethoven on his last hurrah,
proudly smothering my chest with an ache,
an emptiness.

"Only between us," you say, a glance my way,
a reassurance, with a cloying smile. My heart tightens,
"No," I was about to answer, but my thoughts move,
the dictionary in my head turning "no" into a, "Yes, of course".
Turning my truth into a lie,
my heart the severing line.

Giving my frown the definition of a smile.

Beethoven still plays the piano in my mind,
playing his wonderful concertos and sonatas,
this deaf man.
And you can call me friend, your comrade,
your companion, in that less of a jumbled dictionary of yours,
filled with dog-eared pages and highlighted words.

"You matter to me," I say with every ounce of conviction.

You can hear me, but unlike Beethoven you never make a sound.

And I am the broken recorder, testing my conviction.

But as Beethoven is deaf,
in this mental dictionary of mine,
filled with contradiction,
you are the only word
whose definition is friend and foe,
both one and the same.
Too near to the line to be different.

And the strange thing perhaps,
is that it has never changed.
I don't know, I just thought that maybe I'd like to mention Beethoven in a poem
Feb 23 · 133
Morning Garden and Love
Acina Joy Feb 23
Our love will never be a thing of today or tomorrow, but it will always be there. It exists, and blooms first thing in the morning, but even if you don't find it, it is there. Only, it is asleep, and you wake up, only if it matters.  

Some days, I wake up with a hole in my chest, some days, I wake up with my chest filled with too much, that it hurts beyond words. Do I burst with joy? Burst with ire? Or burst into red dahlias and daffodils?

Because I always hold the watering can with earnest, the grooves of its handle imprinted in my hand, as I water my garden each and every morning. And you don't notice them, the flowers that I make bloom.

You gave me the red dahlias and daffodils, and I always close my eyes at night, thinking one day you will notice.

And I know you won't.

But I go on anyway, with my morning gardening; keeping the soil, cutting what has died, keeping them alive from morning through night, caring  this way always, without self-regard.

This is my way of love.
Red dahlias-betrayal and dishonesty
Daffodils-uunrequited love
Feb 20 · 96
Acina Joy Feb 20
It hurts inside, you see,
because you never think of me,
the way you think of someone else,
someone who I'll never be.

But don't you dare come closer,
don't come to me this time,
when you lament all about her,
How dare you think it's fine?

Because I've known you longer,
and I still think it's unfair,
how you know little about her,
but forget that I am there.

And yet, I know this isn't love, but
nevertheless, it hurts,
how you inflict pain on me
without actually saying those words.
Feb 11 · 142
To love angels.
Acina Joy Feb 11
If you loved her, like darkness,
you have always loved her since,
and if you loved her like light,
then she had steered you from your sins.
I think this poem is for those who've loved, maybe.
Jan 11 · 1.4k
Where thunder reigns.
Acina Joy Jan 11
Where there is thunder that reigns
down the emptiness of your flesh,
in a war hidden and filled with apathy,
to sink behind darkness , once named shame.

There it is, the torn kingdom,
that you've claimed as your body.
The temple which you've loved,
but never cared for in those aeons of silence.

Where you pretended that doing nothing
would solve everything

And so you weep, for the unfairness of it all,
as you claw at your already mangled flesh,
and press for the warmth of your heart.
Pretend that the rush of blood is a rolling blanket.

You swallow those shards of glass, and emulate the heavens,
and pretend your body with jagged scars
is the place for honourable heroes; pretend your triumph
in this barren, damp land of storms
is the place where thunder always reigns.

A place for heroes who never won, but died in their place.
a poem that is a bit analytical of people who are apathetic to their problems in life; who let themselves get hurt, and pretend to care for themselves by doing nothing, believing just weeping and feeling sad can solve the pain in your life; people who are apathetic, and still persist to hurt themselves (both literally and not).
Jan 7 · 173
Never trust roses.
Acina Joy Jan 7
Never trust roses again.

I lay down in a bed of them,
muttering a lullaby sweetened.
Pink petals meeting my lips reddened,
as I become a beloved sacrifice,
when you lied to me I would be cherished.
I thought I laid in a bed of roses,
to only lay in a floor of thorns.
So I told myself, as I bled out rubies,
that we both foolishly called love.

Never trust roses again."
inspired from a music video. i just wanted to let out my words in a long time.
Dec 2018 · 342
Acina Joy Dec 2018
Her eyes are shining
bright and empty like dinner plates
and if you question the emptiness,
the answering void,
I am her feast, staring back,
dumb and unknowing.
restaurants and inner monologues stir up quite a storm.
Dec 2018 · 292
Acina Joy Dec 2018
If I could, I would,
make you happy, make you smile.
But I will not be your entertainer,
just to be here for awhile.

I am the wind, blowing through sails,
from places left unknown,
to linger by your side,
the place where I've flown.

And I try to prove, to provide,
to create my happiness through you,
but the longer that I stay and fight,
the fast you're proving untrue.

So I'll leave soon, garner peace
in another land with new folds,
to see if you'll chase me,
just without being told.

Because if I am your provider,
you breath of air, your kindle,
I expect at least your gratitude
for my presence, just a little.
be thankful for those whom you have.
Acina Joy Dec 2018
I think this is what it is, something short yet bright in my chest. Too quick to be named, yet felt with my entire being. It thrums inside of my heart, natural as sunlight through window curtains, as secretive and cheeky as a grin. This is one of the types of happiness I know.

The quick ones that make you feel you are on top of the world, despite the state of everything which says otherwise.

It is but a spark.
yeah, i just had a conversation with my best friend, and i don't know, i was with her yesterday, but just every bit of word that i exchange with her makes me eternally happy.
Nov 2018 · 190
Bane of my existence.
Acina Joy Nov 2018
The bane of my existence, to love you, I shall die.
You **** me slowly, each and everyday you come through the door.
But alas, the less that I love you, the more this pain hurts as well, and I can only ask a question to you, always dreading the answer.

Whether which one will **** me, loving you, or never even doing so?
it's been a long time since i have last posted. hope you guys enjoy this one.
Nov 2018 · 162
To Prove.
Acina Joy Nov 2018
I could prove no less under your behest,
as I am always trying with my very best
with what we have as if it is a test,
which is left, dying inside our chest.
been awhile since i've been up and abot
Oct 2018 · 190
Deja vu.
Acina Joy Oct 2018
Their eyes meet, and out from their lips comes the sounds of stuttered words, fingers unsure, eyes searching, hearts feeling visions that race through their minds. It’s as if this moment was paramount, even though faded memories only led to the time of now. They do no think. They only feel. Their cracked, papery lips never felt drier than before, but as if prompted by a spirit that harboured the edges of their souls, words tumbled out into a thin, fine stream—as if practised through aeons, and memorised by their immortal spirits, eternal in finite bodies, and ingrained within their tired minds, they say, “I’ve seen this before.”

And only their spirits know if it is true.
Oct 2018 · 133
Acina Joy Oct 2018
We're all jars of fragile matter, growing stronger to merely turn to dust.
Oct 2018 · 330
The Thief
Acina Joy Oct 2018
You are cold. Unbearable. Harsh. Painful. Impossible to love. It is difficult to stay, difficult to also leave. But once you come back, begging for my forgiveness once I've left for good, I'll make you think of all the times I've been there. I held your hand. I let you cry. I chased away your nightmares. I cared, and never complained once. I'll make you think about it, and don't ever tell me that you had not felt love at all. That you had also not loved it since.
appreciate the people in your life, who only makes their presence known to help, and be sure to also be able to pay them back, at least even the smallest price. they deserve it.
Oct 2018 · 139
Not Alone
Acina Joy Oct 2018
Life is better, not as an individual, but as a free spirit, to mingle with what we cannot see, to believe in what we always feel.
Oct 2018 · 165
Still Love, Love Still.
Acina Joy Oct 2018
Still love.
Like it is there.
Like it is your last.
Like it is never an option.
Like suffering is a big blessing.
Like love is a always a distant memory.
Like it is a spirit bearing our empty hands.
Like it is a chance given to us down here.
Like it is a mask, taped onto our skin.
Like it is our skeletal foundation.
Like it is our clothed flesh.
Like it is our tears.
Like it is hope.
Like a smile.
Love still.
keep loving
Oct 2018 · 133
Acina Joy Oct 2018
People can run on earth where land is stranded amongst seas. But we can all run for so long, and drowning was never an option.
take what options you have
Oct 2018 · 197
Acina Joy Oct 2018
The tides are harrowing as he talks, spilling from his lips the thunder of the heavens. We do not worry for what he says, or for how his eyes are hooded by the brooding clouds, how his fingers start to claw at the faint threads that bind by thighs, or his tongue that peeks out to wet his cracked lips. No, I say, we do not worry about him.  Because we are afraid of how we might be once the storm pulls us over.  We are the sailors afraid of his bout of rain.
to suffer is to learn
Oct 2018 · 172
Acina Joy Oct 2018
I try my very best
yes I do
its all not for me
but for you

i wake up
thinking of seeing your smile
but it is never for me
even from a mile

I am just a shadow
the empty box in a stack
just waiting to be filled
waiting for you to come back

and still i manage to hurt
every single day
but if this is the price
then i will gladly pay
i wish i never had a heart to just let it fall into pieces.
Sep 2018 · 205
Acina Joy Sep 2018
I heard a man say that he loved a girl,
and he waited for 28 years.
He longed for her day and night,
but he never shed a tear.

Several seasons came and go,
and inside him brew a storm.
The longer that they stayed apart,
the stronger he grew forlorn.

Till the day came for his love to come,
but he never saw it coming then,
that she never even loved him back,
and he loved till he never loved again.
Love can be a waiting game sometimes, that grow too long to even bear.
Sep 2018 · 98
Last Time
Acina Joy Sep 2018
The higher curl of the other end of her lip. The exasperation present in her eyes. The small sound of her snort as she looked away.

He loved that look so much.

God, he loved it.

And it was so unfortunate, that it was only now that he was admiring it. Only now that he was loving it, for the last time.

He took a breath.

She didn’t.
I cry
Sep 2018 · 119
Acina Joy Sep 2018

I fear war, like it is an unseen shadow chasing after my own.
I fear it, because we all have one, breaking us down into a weak foundation. There are different wars that we fight in everyday. I am afraid of the wars that will last a life time; the ones that come to you when you close your eyes. But I am even more afraid of the ones where I don’t even know where they begin.

War is a three letter word.
Aug 2018 · 121
Hold Me and Let Go
Acina Joy Aug 2018
Let your knife
Pierce between my ribs
Fall in my embrace
To let you sleep
It’s so different
From how it used to be
So different
From how it seems

As your hand
Slips right through the cracks
Squeeze my heart
Shut until your grip slacks
Save me from
The hurtful words
Save me from
How it used to hurt

So when we’re done here now
Just shut me out
Let my corpse fall down
Until you won’t look back
Leave me to
Bleed it out
Leave me to
Die right now
Leave me so
I can sleep safe
And sound
I trieeddddd
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