a vessel guilt-ridden filled,
the harsh gritting of violin.
the confession no one billed—
abruptly starts kicking in.
the words stuck on my tongue—
never tried to swallow nor spit out,
sealed it tightly since i was young,
never thought it’d try to bite off my mouth.
the torture i tried to endure for so long—
hid it well when i knew it was all too wrong.
but risks of more regrets slipped away,
when conscience finally made its way.
i’m never alone.
i have my words—
sometimes my tears,
but never alone.
a barren home once my oasis birth empty promises from unseen faces.
i climbed a snail-paced trek for puzzle pieces:
the might-have-beens i think about on a daily basis.
i stumbled on your pretenses of strings of “i miss you” laces.
i searched for voices on these dreary phrases of our sequel, nowhere to be found on these last pages.
my mom once uttered,
as i broke down crying
at a parking lot.
for a while, i pondered
how it still echoes ever since—
and why it covered most of the plot.
your name dustily scribed on my head,
like a forgotten song once my fave;
on the radio it plays, gone unheard—
the room filled soft muffles turned raging waves.
a love to prove,
a flower for the pain,
the thorns removed—
but the shadow remains.
i didn't followed you to the waters,
just so you could pull me under.