Still I mourn

So what do I have now? I have nothing.

I do not have bullets to show or even a gun to draw. I am now barefoot with blisters on both. All I have are empty hands. Hands that cannot reach because you are too far away. I have walked hundreds to thousands and thousands to millions. Even then, every step could not bring me closer to you.

I have always tried and for so long I have been constantly within your grounds. I know I cannot save you. I am not one with cape or tights. I do not have powers to move mountains or lift the heaviness on your back. I am as human as you are. I am as prone to weakness as you are. I am as susceptible to fear as you are. But I am here so we could be weak together, so that we could be fearful together. Do not bathe in your own darkness for you will most likely drown from it.

Let yourself crumble.

Let yourself break.

Let your tears find their way into your heart and melt away the walls that have always been there. Let your broken wings free no matter how badly injured they are. They may be broken but try to fly anyway for they are still wings after all. Let the thunderstorm swallow your world or it will turn into a hurricane and cause more peril than you can try to endure. Let yourself be turned into ashes by the bright flame of what screams inside.

Build from there.

Rise from there.

Revive from there.

Survive from there.

Everybody needs everybody else. Nobody wants to be nobody.

You are strong. Yes I know. You are weak. Yes I know.

Don’t pretend to be the better of the latter. I can see you as you cry inside. I can see you as your bones break. I can see you as your hopes fly away and leave you like everything else does. I find your eyes vacant and without indication of whether you can still see or not. I look for you and even when you are there, you are not. Your smile is but a reverse of a frown. When was the last time you ever truly looked yourself at the mirror?

I wish you could see: I die as you die. I break as you break. I cry as you cry.

But I know even these words will not pass on to you. I know my words will just be empty sounds thrown into an empty crowd. Every tear that had dried will be for naught because as I have feared… I may have lost you already.

(Have I?)

So for now, let my empty hands and lost words mourn.

P

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Maybe

Maybe I think I’m the one who can, but what if I’m really not?
I’ve held on to you for so long that I feel like I’m stopping you from being truly happy.

And if letting go means someone else finding you where I can’t… maybe that’s where your happiness will finally lie. I wish a universe of happiness for you because you deserve that. Mine may not be as big as the universe, so find your universe and when you do find it, hold on and don’t second guess.

Infinities are so very limited.

Leave me and I shall accept reasons beyond reason.

Smile for someone else.
Laugh for someone else.
I’ve been selfish for too long.

But the thing is, sometimes, doing the right thing feels so wrong.

P

Untitled VI

The flower sang when the flower bloomed.

It charged the skies like light towards the dark,

Opened into miracles of wonder,

Smiled through the ever changing world,

And loved itself as though it could never love again.

P

Untitled II

I am broken bones with no skin.
I am tangled in red strings
because I do not know
how to distinguish
comets from meteorites.
I will go on walking with bruises
on my cheeks because
that is where I keep remembering
your gentle touch.
Someday I will stop falling apart
twice a day and hope every song
will not be like a march
through the valley.
One day I will be able to say,
I once knew you (oh, not from afar)
and glad that someone like you
gave their heart to someone like me.

Slowly.
Briefly.
Quickly.

For now;
the sun is a burning curse,
lullabies turn into nightmares,
and reality keeps me bleeding
because I don’t know how
to stop loving you
when that was all
I could ever offer.

P

Until I Have Been Lost

I wish I could understand my own feelings.

The way 1:17 am feels

like the world inside will always be

utter chaos

and bad things happen

when good things are never in excess.

The way the phone blinks open

and the heart jumps but falls into

a blank staircase

because life was not always fair

to those who needed only one phone call.

The way the quiet hum of tick tocks

makes me wish I was just a puddle

always on the ground but

ready to evaporate into the sky

and drop, tear by tear until

I could finally hear someone else’s contentment.

I cannot say how much I miss living for

the early mornings of tomorrow

because I am stuck in a cycle of

4 o’ clock alarms and messy beds.

Tell me,

should I stop hoping that silence

was always loud enough?

 

“But,

how can anyone know

what they have never found?”

 

P