3am and sometimes
i think the ceilings are split
from the weight of your
words, cold. last november.
but my lips
are cracked from the taste of
your
apologies, like wet ashes
on my tongue. tomorrow's cigarettes.
i pray to god
sometimes. i ask for one
more chance to remember how your smile looks like
on rainy yesterdays. brief thunderstorms.
i miss you.
your hands are sand
and i spend the entire time
trying to hold onto them but they slip
out, from the gaps between my fingers.
i feel as if i am chasing smoke.
i feel as if i am chasing you.
i am chasing you.
but i don't know where you've
gone, and not a single
navigating system in this world
could tell me where you are.
i break one.
i try to find another, but
the store says they're sold out.
outside, i find a pile of broken
ones by the trash can and lonely
silhouettes walking down the left side
of the crossroad.
because they know if they have to find someone,
they musn't go the right way.
3am and sometimes
i find myself brewing coffee
in the kitchen,
and i forget how many teaspoons of sugar
you'd always add to your cup.
so i don't touch the spoon.
3am and sometimes
i wish you taught
me how to forget you before
you left.
i brushed shoulders with you
the other day,
when the lights were green
and we were both crossing the road.
i don't
think you recognize me
anymore.

part I:

remember when the walls are
bleeding from the way he says "i love you"
so gently
it feels like his hands
are loading the gun as he distracts you with his lips,
but you close your eyes
and don't move.
the barrel presses to your nape.
he doesn't
shoot.
remember when the floors are
telling you to stand up,
stand up
your knees are hurting but you are debris at his feet
and he doesn't step on you.
chapter one
is when he shoves you against the wall and you forget to breathe.
chapter two,
he doesn't kiss you.
remember when he opens the door after
not coming home for two months and tells you not to
wait for him anymore, but you do
and he starts to come home
everyday
for a week.
you haven't seen him
since.
chapter ten is when you take your things
and leave your ring
on his coffee machine.
epilogue is when you come back
and fall asleep
in his unmade bed.
the ring is where you've left it four years ago.

part II:**

we talk about abandonment like
secondhand sweaters in a thrift store,
thinking about
someone else's arms and
someone else's lips against your neck.
pay for it,
leave.
the moments you spend curled
up in bed and picking at the loose threads
of what another persons has
decided to move on from, you are wondering
what it means to finally let go.
every eighteen days
you return to his front door and
try to remember
how it looked like nearly
three weeks ago
but everything seems the same.
you walk right past again without saying "hello"
and you can see him
through the kitchen window brewing coffee
the way he always does at
7 in the evening.
i talk about abandonment in the
form of repetitive mistakes
but recently i've realized that
it wasn't deja vu.
everything was just me.
it hadn't been fate
at all.

theory:

1 // don't fall in love with the girl who has grey eyes reminding you of fragmented moonlight and of fluttering high tide against a silver shore.

2 // don't fall in love with the way she tucks her hair behind her ear just so she can appreciate the way your voice falls like ethereal windchimes over her trembling heart.

3 // don't buy her flowers; she'll keep them even though they've wilted.

4 // don't tell her she's beautiful; she'll spend hours trying to find her name in its definitions within every dictionary she can get her hands on.

5 // fold her paperplanes and watch her fly them off the tops of skyscrapers but don't allow her to follow where flight fails her.

6 // trace your name over her skin only with your lips, because it will be more permanent than ink.

7 // but don't fall in love with the girl who has a shattered smile, she'll be here one moment and gone with the next monsoon.

when you said that i'm not your “cup of tea”,
it had me trying out every type of blend
until i got so addicted
i couldn't stop.
i suppose i forgave you then because
you've always been the kind to like
Lipton with milk and sugar
but i prefer my earl grey black and unsweetened.
that showed me how literal your words could get.
once i tried to add creamer and sugar cubes
into my cup and i cried
because it was horrible and i'm sorry you had to
have your Lipton strong and bitter for a few months.
you should have told me earlier,
you didn't have to scald your tongue.
the other day i saw you with her
and you were happy.
i couldn't help but notice she has beautiful skin
and that her smile is gorgeous.
it's all right because you've finally found
someone who's your “cup of tea”.

you don't have to explain.

i know you spend 2ams thinking about someone who hasn't thought of you in the past few months.

i know you spend 3ams staring at the kitchen wall wondering why you didn't buy more coffee.

i know you spend 4ams sitting with your back against the mirror for fear of your reflection mocking you.

i know you spend 5ams curled up under blankets wanting to fall asleep but too afraid to wake up.

i know you spend sunrise with the window open and your eyes closed as you pretend that the day will be all right, that you'll be all right.

you don't have to explain, i know that your smile is the remnant of summer as the days grow colder, until it parallels the subzero continent that is the hollow in your chest.

when my mind is a scattered mess
all i know is
the way your lips move when you're forming
the words “you're beautiful”
and i will never hold on to anything
harder than i do your hands when i feel that you're
slipping away and i'm slipping away and
the ground is split between the tips of our shoes.
when i feel as if the sky is falling
there is nothing more comforting than being
under the shelter of your torso
and the reassurance your kisses bring and
the way your lips flicker over my collarbone
as you whisper that i'll be okay
and we'll be okay
and everything will be okay
because i don't have to worry about
anything, anything at all.
when the morning is cold all i can remember
is the weight of your arm over my waist and
i am safe and the curtains are drawn and
the memories from last night aren't remnants, but novels.
i hope one day
i'll be able to return your “i love you”s
with something more permanent and confident
than “thank you” and maybe someday i'll be
able to say it back to you but for now
i am a broken wave
and that is why i insist we take walks at 3am
since my affinity with lampposts is defined
by the way i can safely tell you
to look at our combined shadows
and promise that
we can be one if we just try.

do you still remember when we knew enough about each other to spend wednesday nights lying side by side on deserted highways counting stars that we can't see and catching the other staring at us every time we turn our heads. you'd tell me about monday and i'd tell you about tuesday and then you'd play our favourite song and pull me up and say, "may i have this dance?" there are no cars and no lampposts and it's a new moon yet the darkness finds us tripping over empty ***** bottles on those giddy all-alone nights. now when i see you this is the memory that reflects in your eyes, and sometimes when i look down i see your feet tapping to the sort of music we'd never forget and then my heart will ache to waltz with yours.

“if i fell in love with you,
you'd be the only one who wouldn't know.
i'd never smile at you because i'm
afraid you'd return it and free the butterflies in my ribcage.
i won't ask for your name
not just because i would already have found out but
mostly due to the fact that
you might ask me for mine and the
sound of my name at the tip of your tongue
will ignite the sort of fire that will burn me into ashes from the inside out. i won't let you hold my hand
because the thought of your skin on mine
tires me out enough at night without my heart
aching for another touch.
i'm never going to
tell you i love you because i know,
everything that i have ever loved
either
crumbled to debris
or ripped me apart.”

i remember when we first met i thought to myself that i had to have you even if it'll be the last thing i do. and to be honest it isn't even that important that you were gorgeous it was the fact that you are every good memory put into one that made me fall so hard for you.

apology #1: it was never my intention to let dust settle over your lips.

apology #2: i didn't forget you but it was my fault that i didn't let you feel remembered.

apology #3: you were content with just being in my line of sight but i should have offered you more attention.

it is when i am left all alone picking up the pieces you left behind that i realize just how much i am already missing you, like a vestige of what was but will never be.

if i had to describe love i'd call it a sandstorm.
these grains of time slip through my fingers and yet they still exist and dig into my skin.
i have to keep my eyes closed or you will blind me again and leave traces of yourself under my fingernails that won't entirely disappear.
if i had to describe love i'd call it a sandstorm.
because whenever you're near i feel that time will burst out of its hourglass and everything organized and proper will drift and drift until i am no longer sure how many hours i have spent wandering the labyrinths in your eyes.
if i had to describe love i'd call it a sandstorm.
i knew that it'd hurt me and yet i walked into the open, looking for you.
i knew it wouldn't last and yet i embraced you with open arms.

I have breathed you indefinitely, wondering if your scent
is the definition of perfection. I should digress.
These wings won't take me
as far away as I will want to go.
If you still think of me, please remember me as broken;
as the pieces you once tried to put together, and inevitably failed.
If you are willing to read my words;
please rip these envelopes and hide the letters within your palm.
My reasons for leaving are finite;
I know that they will run out, and they will never be enough.
Of course, I should apologize.
I am sorry for being the imperfection you never needed.
You tell me you love me and I believe you, but
I do not deserve your affection.
But I will not apologize for making this decision.
I will leave my past behind in a flurry of winter snow;
please don't try to find the last traces of my footsteps.
I promise that I will be fine.
And thank you;
you are so beautifully sincere in everything you say.
Nothing will ever feel warmer than your fingers clasped in mine.
I could write down all the things about you that
have driven my heart into insane acceleration. My pen will run dry.
Though lastly, if there is a word that
can express extreme love better than itself,
I dedicate it to you.

- - -

the scratching of pencil on paper sounds like
how your nails scrape words over my dry
skin in the dim light. reminiscence is essential.
beyond the window grilles, there is
nothing but silence.

so i manifest noises by tapping
my feet against the smooth parquet or
by standing near clocks to hear their hands
tick away. it is more
comforting than it should be.

if you could feel my anxiety, or drink
in all my nervousness, then you would
understand— why i am always unsure.

i believed too much in gods and luck.
my spirit is limited in a case of
transparent hope,
tinted by whispers which haunt
me to no end.

and so tells the story of how i came
to stop believing.

- - -

abandonment is when everything you do is wrong
and nothing you do is considered important
when you've blatantly made a mistake but
they smile at you and say that "it's all right"
because they can't be bothered to tell you
what it takes to become an even better person

it is the occasional urge for your heartbeat to
slow down. to the point where it stops, and
is too late to start up again
the persistant desire to step off rooftops;
to feel your body tumbling, hurtling downwards knowing
that the ground will open up to keep you safe

when you feel abandoned, you feel unwanted
as if everyone has decided to give up on you
but still you keep your palms open,
like a child waiting to catch snowflakes in summer
thinking that perhaps, your conclusion was wrong
hoping that the silhouette you watched walk away will
turn around and return to you with outstretched arms

- - -

i could tell you all the things that i wish you'd noticed
but my only regret was the way you packed yourself from me and refused to listen
i could tell you where to set your once vibrant eyes on,
but you'd only ever kept them shut, closing those windows to undiscovered beauty

you were only ever interested in perfection,
lamenting of the world's unfair ways and incomprehensible occurrences
wanting to be flawless yourself but
unfortunately we were never one of the lucky ones destiny picked to favor
i could tell you how perfection is overrated,
like butterflies with wings pinned under tempered glass
amaranthine and frozen in the time trapped within a transparent case,
beautiful, breathtaking, brilliantー
yet they don't really get to live at all; they are too fragile to brave the world

i wish i could have made you see all the insignificant wonders
everything that touched my heart and would hopefully touch yours,
i wish i could have shown you what you could have lived for
or rather, through my selfishness, i wish i could have made you stay with me
because i could see you standing there with the light slipping
off your tainted skin, like a cascading waterfall
as the tentacles of night shrank back in utter defeat

you started a flamboyant affair with your demon because it'd never leave you;
but you never fell too deep in love because you knew it'd never love you back

still the urge to be faultless and never wrong sifted through your desires
i was wrong to let you pursue an endless dream
and i wish i could tell you how i felt as if i was shattering into pieces
every time you held me so tightly and desperately,
yet it is as if your arms were the only remnants binding my entire essence together

everything faded away as you clawed on to any remaining presence
to any scrap of worthless memory to remind you of yourself
i wish you could have seen yourself through my eyes:
the way your words spilled in fervor, mindless of induced tears and welling disbelief,
how your voice lashed out in a wild arc, madly throwing up shields around you
and i couldn't get closer

though lastly, i wish you could see me now, looping threads with boulders attached
at the ends around my ankles and tossing them off buildings
so when i fall down to reach you, it'll be an elaborately planned accident

- - -

these words are not apologetic;
they don't believe in lying
since words are merely tools
to flavor our blatant insincerity

these pens are not for writing;
rather, they are used for dismantling
the nib from the tube of color
to be sliced up into confetti by knives—
where the ink spills like dark blood

these poems are not for reading;
but for recording your feelings in
riddles that no one else but you can
understand, and relate to—
words coded in more words,
or in between lines with the invisible
ink of the mind and memory

these paragraphs are not sarcastic;
more of subtle reminders to you that
perhaps you should have cared
about me a little bit more than the
dust collecting on the top shelves of
your forgotten library,
while your pocket empties itself
on new volumes of books with
repetitive story plots, my own
diminishing in the sea of your curiosity

- - -

a for the anxiety that burns in my heart
b for the brutality of your words
c for the chances you never take
d for every door you kept close
e for the efforts i've wasted on you
f for the freedom we locked up in cages
g for the gardens that grow weeds
h for the hands that grasp at hope
i for the illusions of this world
j for the jars we keep our hearts in
k for the kisses you pressed to my jaw
l for the laundry you left on my floor
m for the memories that refuse to fade
n for the nostalgia that haunts my dreams
o for the onslaught of grayest rain
p for the parachutes we forgot when we jumped
q for the questions that don't have answers
r for the rebels in us who will never die
s for the satellites we resemble too much
t for the trains we could never catch up
u for the umbrellas that are broken and torn
v for the vengeance we shouldn't seek
w for the winters that never end
x for the false Xs they drew on maps
y for the years that pass like days

and

z for zilch interest, the interest you never had in me

- - -

let me remind you of how i was alone
lonely but yet i had been doing fine
before you sauntered into my life
and asked me for my name

i told myself i wouldn't fall for you
that i wouldn't fall for your smirk
that i wouldn't fall for your pride

i told myself i wouldn't fall for you
that i wouldn't fall for your conceit
that i wouldn't fall for the way you took everything for granted

i told myself no way
i told myself to stay away
and as time passed i realized
perhaps you weren't as horrible as i thought you were
i thought you were maybe even fine

still i told myself i wouldn't fall for you
that i wouldn't fall for your smile
that i wouldn't fall for your laugh

i told myself i wouldn't fall for you
that i wouldn't fall for the way you flicked my tears away
that i wouldn't fall for the way you tossed pebbles at my window

but i'd started being more unsure
i wasn't sure if i was right about you in fact
i thought that i was definitely wrong
so i started to fall

i started to fall for you
i fell for the trademark smirk you liked to give me
i fell for the way you are so confident about everything

i started to fall for you
i fell for the way you whispered nonsense in my ear
i fell for the way you held my hand as if you'd never let go

i started to fall for you
i fell for the way you had to have coffee in the mornings
i fell for the way you gave unexpected hugs

i completely fell for you
i fell for the way you pressed me to you as i cried
i fell for the way you ruffled my hair and flicked my forehead

but then as before time flickered by
you started to smile less or, at least not at me
you started to turn away when i waved
and i felt more alone than i had ever felt even before i met you

still i stayed in love with you
i stayed in love with your haunting lies
i stayed in love with your empty promises

but i knew that it was going to end
i knew that it wouldn't be long now
so i kept the curtains open waiting for your pebbles
i waited for the clattering of gravel on glass that never happened again

i remember the day you held my hand
your fingers felt cold and your arms were shaking
i felt as though i would crumble but i had to keep us both standing
your eyes lifted up to meet mine but i had looked away

your smile was wavering and your voice too soft
you ran your fingers down my arms and i pushed them away
i knew you had decided i wasn't the one and my heart was breaking
but i'm not about to beg because i thought i was too strong for that

i was naive
i was closing up on the world and everything else
i was closing up on myself
and i was closing up on you

your lips formed the words "i'm sorry" but i don't think i heard
you tried to hug me better but i stepped away
i suppose i was a total wreck but i was so afraid
i was afraid of how much i'd come to rely on you
i was afraid because i could no longer stand the loneliness from before

so i told myself i would get over you
that i would get over the way you dragged my name on your tongue
that i would get over the way you made me tea every day

i told myself i would get over you
that i would get over the rapidly draining fullness in my chest
that i would get over every thought of happy ever afters

so i turned around and took your hand (i think i even shook it)
i tried my best to smile but you probably didn't believe it was sincere
i thanked you
for every flower you ever put in my hair
for every tear you ever brushed away
for every kiss you ever gave me
for every time you tried so hard to make me feel not alone
for every comforting word you ever whispered to me
for every pebble you ever tossed at my window

i thanked you for giving me the best time of my life
i told you that i understand how all good things come to an end
i hoped so desperately that you wouldn't see through me
we both had tears in our eyes when we stepped towards the door and
as i returned you your sweater and closed the door

i knew, just as you knew, that we'll never see each other again

- - -

you are utterly torn apart. your heartbeat seems to accelerate but time is trickling to a near complete standstill. are you still in existence? all around you, voices are getting louder; the soft whispers reverberate throughout your numbed, hollowed skull,  and occasional laughter crackles like thunder to your ears. you blink, and with the effort descends a paralysing paroxysm so excruciating you bite your lip, lost and alone.

the feeling overwhelms you. a definite feeling of loneliness, even though you are surrounded by people, by the crowd. a feeling of solitary despair, enveloping your entire being and folding its wings around you. and you shiver, the cold gleam in its eyes piercing right through you while you are at your most vulnerable.

what is happiness? you ponder the question in your subconscious. what is it really? is it a good thing, or is it something that crouches in the corner, always ready to pounce on you and hurl you into the fathomless depths? is it something you would want, something you would embrace, or something you would abandon?

you can feel the weight; the unmistakable pressure of an unidentified burden that is lodged deep in the crevices of your broken heart. your heart— it is a shattered mess blown into smithereens. you know that even if you were to find every shard left, you will never piece it back together, and even if you succeed, it won't be the same.

you are a wreck of sorrow, a maelstrom of uncertainty— abandoned and cast away. joy does not favor you, and hurt is too protective of you; it won't let you go. you are trapped, a definite prisoner within the limits of its palm. and maybe, you don't want to be set free. maybe, this is where you belong— in a world of darkness and misery, where you are tossed about by the storms of a merciless vortex.

the atmosphere is familiar to you, but you'd decided to give light a try. you'd opened your eyes to a possibility of joy— something you'd never had. you'd decided to try to be everything you are not. and in those moments, those transient, evanescent eternities, you thought you'd finally understood what "happiness" means. but you'd been wrong. you'd bitterly realized that you'd never been right about something and that hadn't been an exception. you attempt a laugh but it sounds like a choked sob.

the amaranthine disappointment is suddenly too oppressive for you— you can no longer drag the weight of the chains after a taste of your brief wings of freedom. the difference is too wide, a distance comparable even to the gap between temporariness and perpetuity.

the sky in your world has lost the bright vividness it had for the short stretch of time. time, you realize, is but an illusion. and you wonder, are you living in "time"? if time is an illusion, a fiction of someone's imagintation turned into reality, then where will you be, if not in "time"?

an endless gray drapes over the landscape of your world, condemning your entire universe into unending bleakness. of winters colder than Siberian nights and mornings darker than a void.

you leave footprints in the snow.

but you know that you are torn, broken beyond repair, jaded to the point of no return, and that you've gone further than the lines of belief that marked the boundaries of your once bright soul.

you will no longer believe, you will no longer trust. because you are the essence of sorrow itself, the epitome of despair and hopelessness.

you are what they call "life", and you finally know what "happiness" is.

happiness is a lie; a picturesque delusion of doom, of the dark unknown.

happiness is everything life is not, and it is your enemy.