我心已碎,
请别再给我眼泪。
剩下的你,
没有永恒只剩别离。
Writings of a Phobophobe.
我心已碎,
请别再给我眼泪。
剩下的你,
没有永恒只剩别离。
一个人撑伞;
又是雨季,
起床是单人床;
这是分手季。
For the words left unwritten;
Next life they’d be already given.
Of passion left unspoken;
Joys be kept till they’re ready to open.
Chronicles of my heart
Back seat of that bus.
Adolescent guts —
You bit me hard
Down my spine,
I felt that rush.
“Pull me closer,”
“If you must.”
Trickle and shiver,
That virgin gush of lust.
Killed with that smile,
Please let it last.
Paintings of you,
Made with brushes of lust.
Play with this child,
All night till dusk.
Now close up that mile,
Come into me fast.
All you wanted was never ever;
I could be that never never ever.
–
She wanted that happily ever;
But I could be the one that wavers never.
–
We thought of forever never,
Damn we knew it wasn’t forever ever.
–
Come and be my ever lover,
I promise I’ll never ever.
When I buy,
I don’t quite want it.
When I comply,
I don’t quite agree with it.
When I try,
I don’t quite fit in.
When I cry,
I don’t quite feel it.
When I lie,
I don’t want you to believe it.
When I bid goodbye,
I don’t want you to take it.
A nostalgic scent
Of unwanted feelings and crying eyes;
Of unfulfilled dreams and hunger to succeed;
Of unfated soulmates and lingering touches;
Of unwritten poems and stashed thoughts.
The smell of haze
And a hazy future are synonyms.
A reminder of we’ve come far,
But not quite far enough.
Run away
From the world you loved,
They never understood your ways.
Fade away
From those dreams you had,
They won’t take off anyway.
And at times, I miss you.
I miss how we stumble out of clubs,
Young, intoxicated, and didn’t give a fuck.
I miss the way you say goodbye.
I saw from your eyes,
I know sometimes you lie.
You’ve always fancied me,
You’ve always thought about kissing me.
I feigned ignorance,
I wanted to see your persistence.
You said to me you’re always honest,
But no —
Just this one,
You never would want bluntness.
Sometimes you held my hand,
And I know you wanted to hug.
I could hear you resisting your heart,
I wished you went with your gut.
There were many things strangely accurate.
You were right about me,
But never believed in us.
The number of times —
I bit my lips wishing
Instead it was yours.
The number of times —
You held me up,
Instead of holding me close.
Each time we denied our hearts
From every chance of never being apart.
And still sometimes, I miss you so so much.