April

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.

First date

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.

In between the door

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

From me to you, with love.

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