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524 · Nov 2018
You are home
oxymoron Nov 2018
I've loved many girls,
the one with perfect shape,
the one with hair curls,
the one with perfect hands,
how her palms felt against my own,
the one with coloured eyes,

everyone loved me differently,
I felt the love differently,
how one talks about night and sky,
and other just talk and talk and talk,

how one insisted me to cook food,
and other just needed time,
how everyone taught me different things,
I wonder who I've loved the most,

eventually they all had
one common thing,
none was able to stay,
one after another,
they all fade away,
even though I hoped
this one is surely forever,

but the pain of leaving,
felt lesser and lesser,
because the first love
broke me into pieces,
and you can't break a person
who is already broken.

now I am waiting,
waiting for that perfect one,
the one with "happily after" tag,
the one who feels like home,
perhaps she is home.
246 · Oct 2018
Tomorrow morning
oxymoron Oct 2018
Let me hold you,
all night long,
close to my heart
where you actually belong,
cause maybe tomorrow
morning you will be gone,

Tonight I probably gonna fall
in love with you again,
yet tomorrow morning
I know my heart
is going to break down
into tiny pieces again,

Wait don't just go,
let's just sit in the corner
and gaze at the moon together,
and spill out all our secrets,
no more hiding, no more lies,
cause tomorrow morning
you will not be here to
keep more secrets,

tonight let's just dance
on our favourite song
one last time,
let me capture you in my brain,
how you lost yourself in Kodaline,
cause tomorrow morning
you will not be here to sing along,

let's just stay here for a while,
maybe one more night,
cause tomorrow morning
there will be no more reasons to stay,
I will love you all my life
and never know why.
202 · Nov 2018
I write sometimes
oxymoron Nov 2018
people write about love
how forever sometimes feels alone,
that somewhere there is perfect one,

people write about broken heart,
not about those things they are attached to,
or how people are still holding onto old scars,

people write about loss,
how at the same time
a person is intimidate yet so tender,

people write about emptiness,
why memories never fade away,
or how they forget themselves
on the way of loving everything and everyone,

people write about prettiest smiles,
how joyfully they walked under the stars,
miles and miles,

but here i am
half broken, half in love

perhaps i don't write about
people who leave,
i write about those things
who stayed behind,
i write about moments
which feels like butterflies,
i write about you
so broken yet alive.

— The End —