For a while I had forced him to fit my narrative.
I did not want to make it easy for him to leave,
paint him the bad guy because I couldn’t watch him walk out on us.
Because I couldn’t.
I guess he will always just be that special person but not the one.
I had given up everything including myself just to win back someone who was long gone.
But even the most stupid of mistakes, I would gladly do over and over.
I guess he will always be that person, just not the way we were together.
I look at all the poems I’ve written about him.
All the broken times I said was going to be my last poem of him.
I moved one feet in front of the other.
I am going to get through this, I told myself.
It’s midnight and I’m reading about all those midnights spent awake,
eyes staring blankly on the ceiling.
I ask myself,
who was the girl who wrote all those poems about him.
When I open my eyes
there are no more arms enveloping me.
There is no more additional body warmth.
Now it just feels colder outside.
And more than anything, inside.
I see the empty space beside me.
She is the first thing I think about.
There are so much traces of her in my everyday.
The food I eat, the music I hear, the memories I remember.
I should’ve known it was a lie to believe
that she would leave.
Not different from all the other lies.
I see her in my everyday.
It almost feels like a lie that she left.
I knew I couldn’t watch you go when my tears decided to blur the sight of you leaving. I didn’t place my heart on your door so you could step on it on your way out. People learn. I have tied my emotions in ribbons so the next time I give my heart to someone, he’ll only ever have it when he decides to tear apart my gift-wrapped walls.
Oil on canvas
Artwork by Roy Rosatase
It takes some physics to fall out of love
something more logical to know the truth
that when I became too attracted to you
you became the center of my planet
a gravity holding everything together
and if I taught it through
it was the same gravity that stopped me from soaring
but to me you were so much more than that
you weren’t just gravity itself
you were the planet
my home
you were where I belonged
and I was water
your world would be without life
you needed me too
you were the planet and I was water
we belonged together
even if I kept trying to escape I’d fall for you again
so until I am strong enough to break out of this
made up universe of ours
I may never be able to convince myself
not enough to think
you are not my world
we are just people
that I am not like water
you needed me less than I think
the slightest of sparks that ignited the big bang
didn’t create a separate universe for us
that bouquet of roses in the garbage
have you seen the girl crying at the corner of her bed
Is she sleeping with her ex
has she gotten that text
she had been waiting for
the last two weeks
It’s past ten
Is she sleepy
Is she still waiting
what does she want
a call
a text
an apology
I’ll give it to her
have you seen her
confused
in love
longing
I’ve been looking
everywhere
to find her
hug her
whisper empty promises
in the nights
her soft caress
innocent and pure
her voice
my cold heart
craves for the warmth
of her flawless skin
I’ll give her all of my cold heart
and when I do
I need her to believe
to believe in me once again
She is somewhere
hiding in the corner
crying
breaking
used
I want her mine
and I want more than her
She is probably wondering who I really am
I’m the guy she broke herself for
she probably forgot me
she had probably
already moved on
or maybe
maybe she doesn’t even
know me
maybe she is yet to meet me
maybe I left her without knowing
what I had to lose
maybe she’s waiting for me
I still want more of her
I’m coming back for her
She is hollow inside
she is wondering who emptied her heart
who took it with him
trapped it in a bottle with the others
have you seen her
If you see her
please tell her
she needs a little light
tell her it was me
-Mr. wrong
Have you heard the sound of love?
No,
it isn’t the sound of bells or chimes
that you suddenly hear.
I thought it would be like
hearing my favorite song
in my head,
first thing when I wake up.
And I would first check my phone
if he texted.
I have been waiting
for so long
to hear the sound of love
what’s it like…
They say you’ll know
when you finally hear it
Is it the sound of strings
while I play the harp with passion
and so much patience and dedication?
Maybe it’s a sweet yes
when you’ve asked her out
on your first date.
Maybe it’s an apology
when he finally comes back
when you thought he wouldn’t.
Maybe it’s a confession
when somebody tells you
the feelings are mutual.
Or maybe I’d never hear it
until the first cry that rings
through the whole labor room
after giving birth.
One day I realized,
I have been hearing the sound of love all along.
But it isn’t like any of that,
after all,
love works in unexpected ways.
It wasn’t like hearing bells or my favorite song,
It wasn’t like music at all.
It was his voice
first thing in the morning
last thing before falling asleep.
Yesterday and tomorrow
is how I knew
it was love.
It was finally love.
you weren’t thought to grieve
you cannot make heroes out of people
but you cannot mend yourself either
when you’re too broken
too torn apart
you cannot
who will fix you then?
who will be there for you then?
when it’s been weeks since you had a glimpse of sunshine
when it’s been raining all week
you’re drowning in your own tears
this is what you do
listen carefully
you cannot make heroes out of people
and you’re too broken to fix yourself
you let the time past
you carry on broken
until broken is normal
one day you’re going to meet someone
whose a little too broken to love you
but you’re going to love
yes, you cannot make heroes out of people
but love makes the human of us
maybe not heroes with superpowers
but a man who can still love when broken
you are like a broken vase
there is art in your cracks
you are beautiful
we are all broken
you too will remain broken
but you will continue to love
you are going to love
and will find love
from someone who gives a value
in the art of a broken vase
Remember when he held your hands.
Remember the days you would miss him but he would be back.
It’s Sunday evening and you’re sitting outside,
the porch light in a yellow mood.
the wind is cold,
your breath is lonely.
Remember when he used to offer you his coat.
Remember when he took you to the beach one time.
Now another week has gone by.
You sit under the porch light again,
this time reading a book.
You can still hear him say
“read this, this one’s really good”
Yes, you take refuge in books.
A gust of wind blows and you just let it turn the pages,
as you were deep in thought…
Remember when you went out for movies,
Remember when you biked down 5th avenue,
going faster and faster,
like you never had to worry about falling down.
Remember?
You always forget why you don’t
have to remember these things anymore.
In the beggining was a beautiful lyricless song
and a tone of voice that hummed along
bringing the sweet lull of a loftier melody
turning notes into emotions
spinning it in circles
Like a broken record
repeatedly skipping back a moment in whats being played
unable to move on to the next verse
to finally finish the song this little heart sings
In the beggining was a beautiful lyricless song
wordsarefullofletters 