i don’t wear timepieces because i find it pointless to keep track of something that loses all importance once we die. why do we keep glancing at our wrists even when we have nowhere to rush to? my measurement of time comes in memories and fleeting moments. in photos of raised cheekbones and pearly whites. we were both so happy, at least that’s what i thought. the disentanglement of ropes, sadness has kidnapped me. how i wish i could tug on the hands of the time-measuring instrument and go back to the day we first met. like a pendulum, i oscillate back and forth; i alternate between the second and fourth stage of the Kübler-Ross model. the device ticks on and i told myself not to count the instances anymore, it no longer matters if we have shared humid afternoons filled with tangled limbs. the dials have stopped moving since the night you left on a whim.
i know i shouldn’t be writing this, but somedays i just feel like the world is caving in on me and i don’t have anyone to turn to. you told me to write less sad stuff, and i want desperately to write happy stuff too, but how can i? i still can’t believe that god would give me someone so amazing and then take you right back. i am trying my hardest to get over you, but every time i crawl out of the bottomless pit, something would kick me back in.
why do i still care about you?
why does everything i do still remind me of you?
it hurts to know that you’re moving on without me, it’s like i never mattered to you. you’re erasing me from your life and i can’t blame you for that. i’ve always been a direct and confrontational person, and it’s tearing me apart that i can’t talk to you. that we can’t even be friends even though you said we would. i’m sorry i am so weak, i’m trying my hardest to take care of myself. i’ve been leaving reminders everywhere, for myself. but it’s still difficult to see through this thick haze. why do i feel everything in extremes? when i’m happy, i radiate. when i am sad, i crash. i hate how my heart works. how do you move on so quickly? please teach me your ways.
you probably don’t read my posts on here anymore. but if you just happen to come across this, i just wanted to say that i miss you. you can’t just enter my heart then forcibly extract yourself from it.
you used to be nothing, then you became everything. how do i make you go back to being nothing to me?
my friends would give me sympathetic looks and tight-lipped smiles; as i sometimes swear that i hear your voice in crowded rooms
the rain hasn’t stopped pouring down on the roof of my heart; i sometimes swear that this is just a nightmare that i have yet to wake up from
delusions of my phone lighting up, but when i unlock it, there are no notifications; i sometimes swear that you still love me
sometimes i wonder if you sit surrounded by suffocating silence as you look to your left at the passenger seat and do you miss me; do you miss the feeling of our hands clasped so tightly together, we almost forgot that the road wasn’t ours and there were other cars around us, yet we didn’t care who was looking, every time we kissed i felt like flying, and do you miss telling me the tiniest happenings of your every day; and you said that you make mistakes and are not flawless, yet you knew that my arms were your solace, and do you miss us talking about the most random things, do you miss fooling around and kissing and do you miss the taste of my lips on your mouth, do you miss the impromptu outings and arbitrary decisions we made, especially after an entire day of lazing around in your bed and when the songs that i recommended you come on shuffle, do you feel choked up inside, like there are pebbles stuck in your throat that no matter how much you swallow, they don’t disappear, do people that look like me make you do a double take, do thoughts of me keep you awake, and do you miss laughing about silly things with me and all the inside jokes we shared, do you miss all the good times we had?
because i do. fuck. i miss you.
why does it have to be like this? i promise you that everything can be fixed. it is amendable. you say that you love me but you aren’t fighting for me. isn’t love worth fighting for? you can try to push me away. but just because you stop touching a wound, doesn’t mean that it’ll heal immediately. time heals wounds, but scars will always remain. i hope you know that.
i told you that i’m 8 numbers away, hoping that you’ll come back to me one day. i offered you choices hoping that you’d choose me. i offered you choices knowing you never will. sure, you broke me. but right now, you are the only one who can mend me.
i know that you are hurting, but so am i. why must we make things so hard? you say that you don’t want to find out if everything is beyond repair. but why are you so afraid? i took a leap of faith, gave you my entire heart, showered you with love, and you don’t even want to try? the writer in me wants to turn our story into something beautiful, a beautiful memory. but the truth is, this is far from beautiful. i am not going to hide the fact that i am upset. so i am writing to heal.
but baby, if you want to forget everything, at least remember the beginning.
remember the first time you knew —
that you were the one for me and i was the one for you.
i remember the moment this photo was taken. furiously snapping away, i was awestruck by the sunset. it was a glowing collision of burning embers; the sky was dyed tangerine orange and pomegranate pink. what a magnificent sight.
you said, “wow, if only you’d take pictures of me the same way you take pictures of the sunset”
but what you don’t know is that:
a million sunsets can never take my breath away like how you do;
your smile will always be warmer than all the corals and indigos combined;
a sunset only lasts for 12 minutes, and i’ve always thought that it was too short. oh but how i wish i could trade a sunset for another 12 minutes in your arms.
i’ll never stop missing you.
you piece me together and pull me apart
yet there is no one i would rather give the entirety of my heart
i go to sleep, i wake up. i distract myself by writing; but it’s hard to write when my muse is you. i’ve almost completed the entire book of kafka on the shore. i manage to get a lot of reading done; but at the same time, i also read into a lot of other things. my mind tends to run wild. i thought that if i were to talk less to you, if i were to distance myself, i would stop thinking of you, i would stop missing you. but it only makes me miss you more. i see you in everything, i wonder if it’s the same for you? you appear in random intervals of my day. i miss you. i’m trying though, to miss you less. but i still miss you. when will this dull ache ever go away? when will this distinguished emptiness disappear? i miss you. i will stop playing nonchalant if you were to come back to me. i miss you more than ever, i hope you’re doing fine.
he thinks that i tell him to listen to certain songs
because they are melodious
he doesn’t know that all of the songs remind me of him;
and i listen to those songs when i am at my loneliest
he thinks that it’s my first time hearing and laughing
to the stories he tells me
he doesn’t know that i’ve heard them many times before
and i wouldn’t mind listening to them for a thousand more
he thinks that i would have probably gotten
accustomed to his presence
he doesn’t know that when i see him i still get butterflies;
his very existence is my favourite present
i listened to this track while writing this poem:
we tend to take too many things for granted
granted that they will still be there when we wake up
up, up and away
away from this cycle
cycle of never-ending nothingness and trivial matters
matters so much yet we just let the dust settle
settle for something more
more than what we already have
have you forgotten to remember
remember me when you least want to
to love when it gets hard too
too many times we overlook the good
goodbyes are no doubt the hardest to say
say that you’ll be with me every day.