Your love is not a pill and it can’t heal me
I can’t handle all these mixed signals and uneven signs. I’d much rather get past the charade and skip the race, as we’re getting too old for these games. I’m a mess of contradictions and you’re the unlucky one who is caught up in the crossfire. I’m not sure if I can be with you in the ways you needed to be loved.
My father used to warn me about people made out of hurricanes
One day, I’ll leave you and you’ll hate me. You’ll hate me so much I won’t be able to breathe from the clouds you’d rip off the skies out of despair. I will hate myself even more for trying to drown in you, while knowing at the same time we couldn’t work. This is a sin I’m not prepared to take.
It’s unfair for you to make me need you while you’re still befriending the shadows she left on your walls
I know at the back of my mind how much I need you, how there are parts of me that ache and are desolate when you’re not there. You are the words I can’t seem to write and stash away in those paper napkins when I take afternoons off coffee houses, the butterflies I’ve caged in my stomach so I won’t have to feel them after all those somersaults. If there is music in my head I would write songs after you. And I would tune into them and make the most out of the rhythm, because back then I thought we went well together like symphony. But you don’t need me in the way that I am constantly needing you. You remind me of the reason why I purposely set up walls and shut people off, because I have been through these games before and now I don’t want to play. Yet you dragged me into the court with you and left me just as I was learning the rules of your game.
The reality of it all
I want to be there for you and I want to love you in ways that she has never had, but at the same time I don’t want to give parts of myself to make you whole. I can’t keep creating homes out of people and expecting they’d cherish me back with a welcome mat. I’ve learned countless times that is not how the world works. It is my fault, it is my fault, really, for setting you up so high and letting myself get the best out of my expectations. The idiocy of it all baffles me and I can’t believe I let myself get into this kind of situation.
I thought I’ve already learned how to cut off bridges
It feels like walking on broken glass, the way I tiptoe myself around you. I am slowly cautious of my actions, not knowing whether or not you’re getting the right messages. I had to constantly remind myself to never let you cross that bridge to me, for there is so much room for you in here. These nights are already made of me counting down the hours until you come to me in hidden spaces. One day I would stop being chased by your ghost and the way you almost got to me.
Sometimes I define people by the way they take their coffee
Some people you meet are puzzles waiting to be finished, some of them are games you’d never want to play. And some of them are echoes of your past you don’t want to be reminded of. Then there are some people who are too broken to love and to be loved in return, and I thought I was one of those people. When you told me your story over those morning walks I wish it never happened, because you let me in so easily. I should’ve seen that as a barrier, not as an open door. Truthfully, I am not as guarded as I try to be. I tell the world that my walls are made of grapevines and thunderstorms, but I crumble at the slightest hint of affection, for I have been too lonely and unloved for so long.
You once said you’d grab a piece of the sky and turn it into time to wait for me, but I said I didn’t want it. Someday, when I still couldn’t love you in the way you needed to be, you’ll ask for your hourglass back. And I can’t give you spilled sand I can’t hold in my hands.