socio-plath

“Flipping through the pages of my tattered poetry notebook, silently hating myself because all i ever wanted was to be a poem, not a poet.”

“He was meant to love her to the moon and back but somehow he got lost in the galaxies and fell in love with the stars in someone else’s eyes.”

with a hundred hows you stared at the wall for hours ‘til it looked away

You know I left a part of me in that city. With you. With all the memories I’ve made there. I remember the blinding intensity of the neon lights at night. The deafening noises of afternoon traffic. I’m convinced there’s still a whisper of my laughter at that coffee shop we used to go to. When they prepare your cup and ask you for your name, you have probably come close to saying mine a hundred times already. When you walk down the street, there has to be a shadow of my body dancing next to yours. An imprint of my fingers against your palm. The sound of my phantom footsteps that you can’t seem to shake. I bet you still hear the echo of a song I used to sing ringing through your empty apartment every now and then. Your sister always said it was too quiet anyway when I wasn’t around. I wonder if you like the quiet now. If you got used to it. If you found someone new to fill it.  I wonder if you ever come across a part of me, whether or not I left it behind willingly, and regret any of the things we did. Just a little. Just for a second. I wonder if you’d be sad if you met me and realised I tried so hard to get rid of the parts you left behind with me that I erased a little of myself in the process.

uncertainty is a decision

smoke signals

I am tired of knowing nothing and being reminded of it all the time.

People fall so in love with their pain, they can’t leave it behind. The same as the stories they tell. We trap ourselves.