Poetry

dormant feelings

Time will lead you back
to old conversations
long interpreted
to forced messages
accidentally deleted
to sweet words
never expressed.

Vaguely asking questions:
has the heart healed
is the love still there
did the pain go away
are feelings just dormant?

I hope in your mind the answers land.

Standard
Bitter

We Repel

Maybe the reason why the people we love don’t love us back is because opposite attracts.

But you two were honed from the same pole and one will always be repelling the other.

Daily Post’s Magnet.

Standard
Poetry

fate is the enemy

The boy who cried move
was the one who can’t let go.
The girl who cried please
was the one who walked alone.

The stance that they took
was the fate they received.
But the fate is the enemy
becoming distant is the creed.

Standard
Strange

Faraway Heart

I dreamt of flying to a faraway heart of which the distance is just one step apart.

So close in touching the sky and yet so far in holding your hand, so easy to step on the ground and yet so hard for our lips to land.

I dreamt of flying to a faraway heart. But I never imagined dreams could be this short.

I dream of flying from a faraway heart. Your incessant indifference will be my passport.

Standard
Strange

I know what you did last December

To the one who liked me,

I know what you did last December. You hugged me, we were sleeping next to each other. I let you, I was trying to feel if my heart will waver.

But your hand on my stomach didn’t even make the butterflies come out, your breath on my head didn’t even bring any shiver down.

Swallowing for air, both of us are aware. Awake and aware. Pretending to sleep, we decided not to care.

In case you’re reading, I apologize for having written this down to paper. It’s just hard to ignore the words once they appear in front of you and make you remember. But I guess it’s not hard to ignore this particular letter, just like how we ignored what you did last December.

From the girl who liked another man

P.S. Some details are tweaked for privacy purposes. 

Standard
Bitter

seasons of hearts

The clouds are gray, the wind is gushing, and the rain is seeking attention again. Much like how my heart has been throughout this year. If the seasons are an indication of how my heart will be, spring should be next to winter.

But darling, global warming is real, and it might take my heart forever.

Daily Post’s Hopeful.

Standard