I Hope She Can

I hope she can hold you the way this calloused and pained hands did.

I hope she can pick up every broken pieces of you and put it back again, not minding the drips of blood that drizzled from her candle-like fingers. I hope she doesn’t mind the scars.

I hope she would not get irritated by your silence that might go on for days, a week, or even for months.

I hope she doesn’t mind staring at her phone for hours—expecting for a call or even a single text from you. I hope she doesn’t mind waiting over coffee cups—expecting for a familiar face, a familiar scent, a familiar smile. I hope she’ll always finds time for you.

I hope she can embrace the storm in your heart.

I hope she’ll survive the waves of tears that might wreck a bit of her wonderful soul, the thunder claps that’ll ring into her ears every night bringing her fears to sleep into the dark side of the room. I hope she’ll love the rain that you bring.

I hope she can still look at you with the same love her broken heart could offer afterall.
I hope she’s brave enough to love a hurricane.
I hope she can calm the ocean that you are.

I hope she can love you.
In the way I can’t.

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She’s That Girl

She’s a decanter of unsung melodies,
of every broken promise,
of those unread poetries
and unheard stories.

She’s a decanter of every good things,
being tossed in the ocean
by someone she once loved dearly.

Waves after waves,
storm after storm,
she’s being thrown on an island
where she doesn’t belong.

She’s a decanter of beautiful things,
waiting to be opened like a present,
til then, let her sail beyond this sea.

//A

The World Is Such A Lonely Place

I just realized that in the years that I have lived, I can actually count those times where in I have been genuinely happy and those I couldn’t count were the moments wherein I was just staring into the nothingness, trying to suppress the sobs, or sometimes, trying to feel something because I just couldn’t let myself not feel anything anymore. It’s much scarier that way.

And…. It’s been so long, and it fucking hurts already.

Morning seems to become longer. Nights are are harder. Tears turns bitter. Words are spoken with hatred, without thinking twice, stabbing hearts—over and over. Wrist are twisted with the scars from the hands of my own father as if my first breaths doesn’t do him any joy. You got a lover, a friend, and they fuck you, once, twice, or even more until there’s nothing left, just shards and shards of broken glasses you fill, you fit, you put it up again. It seems like love isn’t love anymore. And it fucking hurts. Already.

The world is such a lonely place to live in.

When do I get the chance to leave it?

Storm

Her heart is made up of thunder and lightning,
Waiting to be sent out into the sea of her turbulent dreams.
Deep into the greyish blue eyes, warm palms, touch, nakedness,
and lips she once have known.

But the sun is out—shining.
It hasn’t even rained yet.

Love isn’t for the coward.

Love isn’t for the coward.

That’s what I have always told myself whenever I wanted to just hold you between these aching arms of mine – these arms that long for the warmth of your soul—your soul that ignites the fire within you and making you one of the brightest star that I have always admired from distance. That’s what I have told myself whenever I know that you have spent the entire night crying for someone you held so close in your heart. I wanted to just be there in silence, to wipe away those tears in your eyes—hoping to erase pain, the regret, the fear, and all of those things that made you think twice if you are worthy of being loved.

Because you are. You have always been worthy of everything in my eyes. You are worthy of the sleepless nights , of the words that I have to bled every time, of the tears I have spill each time. Or the pain that I have to go through to be a part of your life. Its fckin self-destructive, I know, but it’s way too late now. I am insanely drawn with you and your crazy ideas, and the how your eyes lit up when you talk about something that you are so passionate about. I even like your messy thoughts and how seriously you think about it really hard every time even when it’s not really necessary. I love every phases of your personality, even the ones you tried so hard to hide to everyone and I love you—and it’s way too late. Maybe you are a bit too much for someone. Maybe you are galaxies and galaxies in this universe for anyone to handle but, man, this universe won’t be as big as the love I have for you.

And this isn’t just for me. Your soul is not for me to hold. Your tears are not for me to dry. Your joys are not for me to share. And your phases are not mine to love. Because I’m just like them. Maybe not right away, but I’ll end up being just like them. There will be nights when you are crying and I’ll be sick of being with you. There will be times when you’ll be too much and I will leave you without looking back. There will be these moments wherein you would tell me all those thoughts that are swarming your mind and I’ll tell you to just shut up. There will be a lot of fights, what if’s and what might’s. I am afraid that one day, I will be looking at you, only to be left behind.

Love isn’t for the coward. And love is a war.

I am no soldier.

And you are someone worth every battle field.

—A

A Letter From Jack to Rose

You are my heart’s sacrifice.

I knew it all along. I knew it from the first time I laid my eyes on you. I knew it from the first time I got the chance to talk to you after the incident that night. And thinking about it, I realized that we met in the most extraordinary yet,unexpected way. And I thanks heavens for giving me the chance to have met a wonderful woman like you. You are this free spirited girl, you have the heart for people, you are kind, and gentle, sincere, funny and you can be little bit fierce at times. The list of what you are to me might go on, but one thing is for sure, I fell in love with you. Deeply. Surely. All at once.

But then again, you are one of those things that I can’t have. You are like a famous painting being displayed at an art museum, leaving a lot of people in awe. While, I am just a drawing, made out of charcoal and paper that can be sold 1 cent per piece. That’s all I am, and you knew that. People in your clan reminds you every damn day that you and I can’t be together– we’re different. At first, I thought, maybe they are right– you are way out of my league and I should just give up the illusion that you have felt the same way towards me. And all of this was big fat mistake. I thought about forgetting you. But, you came back and you rescued me. You came back for me. And from that moment I knew that I would do everything it takes for me to save you. From anything– from the darkness, the pain, the cold waters of the Atlantic. I am more than willing to bear the danger of this world for you.

I just want to make you feel the happiest girl in the world. To have you free from all the weights of the world on your shoulder. I want you travel, to experience a lot of things, to see all the things that this world can offer. You deserve that. Live your life the way you want it to be lived. And I’ll wait till we can be together again. Maybe not in this world but somewhere that our love could be eternal. Until then, live well.

You Don’t Look Like Love

You don’t look like love.
You don’t knock on my door, with flowers in hands.
You don’t speak to me in a nature of language I know love does—you don’t speak in metaphors, in the make-believe promises I know love does.
You don’t hold my hand only to be kept within your touch, like love does.
You don’t ask me to get something to eat when it’s convenient for you, like love does.
You don’t bring me in movie houses like love does.
You don’t ask me to binge watch Netflix series, like love does.
You don’t ask me to go with you in your car for a ride home, like love does.
You don’t ask me to go in a night club right after class, like love does.
You don’t sneak in to my room, like love does.
You aren’t everything I know love is.
You don’t just knock on my door—you barged in emitting this very big smile every time even when I have tried my hardest to push you away. You spoke in thousand thoughts, inside jokes, in hopes of trying to make me feel better after a long bad day. You became my friend and confidant. You held my hand whenever I feel afraid and push me to chase my dreams and assure me that you’ll be there throughout the way. You always ask me to get something to eat because you knew how I love to eat—we would have everything for ourselves and would get out of the pizza place with a big tummy and empty pocket because we have spent everything we have ‘til the last penny. I can get fat and you’ll still tell me that I looked beautiful even when I do not think it’s true. And you don’t bring me to movie houses to watch all of these movies that are derived from books. Instead, you bring me to your favourite book store and you’ll buy me that book saying that it is much better if I read it. And it is. You don’t ask me to binge watch Netflix series but you do ask me to watch the night sky, revealing a countless of stars that seems like a scattered pixie dust in the pitch black painted sky. And you would talk to me your own fears, your dreams, you would talk about me your universe ‘til you fall asleep and all I can hear is your soft breath through the phone. Unlike any other love, you don’t have a car and you would ask me if I would like to take a walk with you home. And yes, I would ditch all those ride home to have those moments where I can look into your eyes while you tell me about your day and to hear your hearty laugh that have always complete my days. I would take every moment to be with you. We may have a different way of celebrating a Friday night, but I’ll chose it over some vodka and dance. I’ll prefer it to be in a nice coffee shop, with you, with a good book, and the aroma of a newly brewed coffee. You don’t sneak in to my room like love does. You came in gently. Knowing me, my family and loving them as much as you loved me.
You don’t look like love.
And I am grateful for that. I am grateful that I did not know you like I know love. I am grateful you didn’t have flowers in hands when you first barged on my door. You have your heart. And I am more than sure that you are more than love could ever be.
And for once in a long while, I know this love will stay for keeps.

I’m Afraid

I’m afraid that I won’t be able to move on. I’m afraid that every fiber in me will still long for you even if after the seasons have changed. I’m afraid that I will still have your photograph close to my heart every night I go to sleep. I’m afraid that I will still fill your mug with coffee every waking moment. I’m afraid that I’ll wait for you to come home. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to burn all of the hand written letters you have given me— I’m afraid that I won’t be able to turn your memories into ashes. I’m afraid that I will still listen to the song that will always remind me of you. I’m afraid that you still makes me happy. I’m afraid that you still pained me. I’m afraid of you, but I’m more afraid of myself. I’m afraid that I will be for you for eternity, even if you will never be for me.

—to you

Virtual Reality

We were like in one of those computer generated virtual reality. We saw the raw in each other and our soul almost collide together– but it doesn’t. I can almost touch you within an arm’s reach but I can’t seem to get hold of you. You fade, you reappear, you run in circles. And tried, I tried to chase you, i start over, and chase you–all over again. But is this what I was supposed to feel? I felt exhausted, pained, excited, happy, hopeless, hopeful, sad, all at once. And I don’t know if you care about with any of these, but if you do, please do me a favor, leave.

Or stay– for real.

Insomniac

If I could sleep, I’ll sleep without having the worries of waking up in the middle of the night, with a tear stained face, afraid and cold, like I have fell into the thin ice of your memories. If I could speak, I’ll speak every words that I have etched in my heart long after you were gone. Yet, I could not do any of those things. Instead, I lie awake, counting the stars that painted the pitch black sky, waiting for the dawn like I have waited for you everyday.