There’s something in the way you look at me,
like you’re about to kiss me for the first time
There’s something in the way you touch me,
like I’m a rose petal and you’re afraid to feel me wither
There is something in the way your hands find its place in mine,
it feels like weight has been lifted off my shoulders
There is something about how safe it feels when we’re alone
and quiet and lay in each others arms
There is something about how we sleep together;
when we hug our pillows but end up in each others arms anyway
There is something about the way we talk to each other,
sometimes it feels like we always have this inside joke or secret plan we share only with our eyes
There is something in your hair
in your face
in your body
in your words
in your touch
and in your very presence;
and it happens to be love.
A love which I have found
in and around you
and refuse to believe in
but refuse to let go of.
Tell me what’s wrong
was it something I said?
was it something I did?
or something I failed to do?
Tell me what’s on your mind
is it the answers of tomorrows test?
the grief of a lost loved one?
your insecurities on replay?
Tell me how I can make it better
shall I go there to lend you my lips?
shower you with comforting words?
or perhaps just hold you through the night?
………..because it’s driving me crazy
and that’s the only thing you’ve been making me feel lately.
I didn’t think anyone deserved me
or at least what I would put them through
because I was secretly lonely and sad
and no one had a clue
There would be moments when the illuminating
rays of my happiness could blind you for a whole day
and other moments when the storm clouds formed
and a hurricane of my sadness would blow you away
Most of them thought it was just a bad time
assumed my emotions were fleeting
but they never asked, never wondered
about my emotional beating
This is why relationships wont work with me
because I will only take them down
pushing them away is for the best;
sadness happens to be my favorite noun.
It’s amazing how words put together can make you and at the same time, be dangerous enough to break you.
I guess when you love someone, you really connect; feel how the other is feeling, form almost the same opinion, know what the other will do or say in a situation. It’s like a sixth sense. This must be the crazy thing about being in love with someone. You lose a part of yourself when the person leaves, your heart aches up to the point of breaking when something bad happens or something goes wrong between the relationship, and it feels like whatever happens to this person just happens to you too.
It’s beautiful and painful to be in love.
It’s broken now; the promise I kept to myself.
I was broken; last night was the first time anyone has seen that side of me.
I’m still broken and I will always be broken; nothing can ever fix this huge whole in my heart that I was born with.
Nothing can mend a broken heart once it breaks. But she put the pieces back together. Not with words to stick like that of glue, not with actions to thread through skin to heal the wound, but like a sedative. The pain and temporary hatred of her presence pierced through me like a needle, then calmed me down, slowly but surely.
Everything was numb after some time. The voices in my head stopped. I couldn’t hear them tell me how much I hate myself for showing her my weakness, my soft spot, my Achilles’ heel. Everything became numb. I couldn’t feel my secret hate towards this cruel world. All I could see was darkness and a hint of light from somewhere, all I could hear was the sound of my quivering voice with colds to match, all I could feel was the pair of arms that held me as tight as they could. And then everything was just numb.
Maybe they’re wrong. Maybe some people are born to be strong for others, not just learn to be strong through experience. But being strong takes a toll on me. Putting on this persona is only good for an audience. And although I may break down, I will never let my walls down.
Last night I couldn’t breath. Not because I was crying my heart out and pouring down my feelings to an actual human being. But because I held my breath, for quite some time, consecutively. Sometimes I wish holding one’s breath could kill you but I guess God didn’t want death to be that reachable. I’m not suicidal, but I have thought about erasing my existence from this world. And I feel that when I hold my breath. It feels like for a few seconds the pain is gone, I can’t feel anything, and all I can think of is whether I should breathe already or see how long I can go without air.
I’m not suicidal, just broken.