There was just your story and my story.
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.
On the last day, teary eyed, I asked him to choose between me and her.
The previous midnight I insisted people are not built with two hearts.
How very ironic that just about a month before, it took all my strength to pretend I didn’t know.
I had to hold my own curiosity, anything to delay myself from confirming he was falling in love with her while saying I-love-you’s to me.
On the last anniversary we celebrated, I would have done anything to reaffirm we once loved each other.
I burnt parts of myself to keep the fire alive, holding back my own logic.
How do people manage to wrestle down their own thoughts but not their emotions.
I still remember very well like the way we never forget what we look like after looking through mirrors.
On the first day we met, he asked if I wanted to join him for some coffee.
Of course I went. I figured I needed coffee to keep me awake later that night. And in a way it had kept me awake even the nights after.
Right there, when he turned,
something was written in the air between me and him,
memories flashed in black and white
and a little part of it already blurred
These half blur yet vivid memories
they slam the door while my heart is in between
crushing it half on his side half on mine
Half wanting to leave these memories
stacked in a room and locked behind my head
The remaining half wanting to find the keys
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
I’m sorry for saying I love you in songs that you will never hear. When you stared at me, I wanted to take the stars from your eyes so that you could grasp the raw honesty of who I really am.
I’ll let thoughts of him fill the emptiness I’m feeling.