UZMA

True love wouldn’t hurt like this. It feels like the butterflies I have when I am with you turn to ashes. You probably don't feel the same, but I spark the most with you. How sad that you are just a lesson to me when I once hoped that we would be each others' till-death-do-us-apart. 

True love wouldn't hurt like this. It feels like the keys I give to you to my darkest rooms only meant to be tossed around. Now, I lost one of them and going home early doesn't feel like it after we decide to put us aside. 

True love wouldn’t hurt like this. It feels like my red string is tugged by you for fun. Will it break when I finally let go of you from my mind? We know we cannot be friends, the chemistry we have, it is uninevetible. 

True love wouldn’t hurt like this. I learn about your hobbies just so that you would feel joy when you are talking to me. Now, God forbid whenever I think that I will never have enough of making sense why you do this to me.

True love wouldn’t hurt like this. I pick my battles carefully and eventhough I think I might dodge the bullet this time around, do you think if it is better if you never say hi to me?

I know we won’t die for love, looking at how you live your life just fine, but we both know how my heart would break to pieces everytime I think about us and the plans we can never make to it. 

I still couldn't figure out why I found your presence irritating to me. Was it the way you talk? Or, the way you breathe when you were talking to me? And, it was still strange to me how we were only happy when the sun faded. It was pure bliss, for a moment, and unknowingly, I stumbled upon peace in your eyes. 

The thing we had was not definitely a slow-burning romance, but, God, do I miss you when your scent still lingered in my room? We were still far from romantic— you only liked the first layer, I was just on a display for you, and you were living for it. 

Didn’t you ever wonder why we were never on the same page? You said that my words killed your sanity, but how were you still here? Did you like it when I was being cold to you? It was clear as the sky that you were sick of me when I told you to leave me alone, but maybe you liked the feeling of how awfully bad things felt to you. 

I laid down the terms, and though it was not morally sound, could we ever avoid any unnecessary heartbreak that would come after? Narcissism filled me, but the tension was not thick enough but would it be if I tell you I love you the next time we meet? 

Maybe you will make up your mind and find my presence like a death coming to you. 

I have never seen this color before, how it appears a bit indescribable on the first layer, written with different colors of ink, and I guess I learn it the hard way this time around, because I think, I am probably attached to this idea of you, — rent-free in my head.

It is liberating to say how we have, this kind of connection that started on a high note, with a thick line of uncertainty, and unnecessary berating, on a floated boat, wrapped by the thought of, devoting to your messed-up mind and my demanding attention, — how we sound so fit yet devastating.

I have called you names in my head often times, be it the good ones, or not-so-good ones, and maybe the voices are right, if my peace of mind is already destroyed, — might as well just drown in it.

I acknowledge how this won’t work, and even if our stars align for one night, we are just meant to be only as situationally together, — and I shouldn’t be judgmental of what we had.

Falling in love is not a disaster, an earthquake is a disaster, — and I will still be loving you through thick and thin.

It must be the unresolved trauma of yours, — looking at how things end between us.

Your hesitancy was as thick as my favourite novel, but was it hard to let you go? Yes.

Your laugh was my favorite song that I can’t stop listening to though the lyrics were all over the places but did I hate you for that? Never.

Your antics filled up my days with fluffy clouds and never endings rain but did I resent you? Us? Not in the slightest.

What a misplaced loyalty.

You were a vision to my mind and the sunflowers to my garden. You felt like a conclusion to my life chapter, and the way you completed my sentences was just as smooth as the breezes brushing off your hair. You took my breath away. Was it semantics if I said that I thought of you as the love of my life?

Numbness was not very attractive yet I was still on the same spot.

I'll be damned if I say how much I miss what we have. I'll be damned if I say that you were all I wanted. I'll be damned if I say I will always be waiting for you. I never regret the oversaid 8 letters that I often whisper every time I have the chance to say it, but if it was never meant for me, it will never be.

I had loved you with all my heart.

It was a fleeting moment but the heartache lingered. I had the intention to leave my door open, and had myself wondering if you ever feel to drop by. For you, there is no need to knock— you are always welcome.

Words come out easily this time around, like a rushing river when I curse your name in the corners of my mind, and even when you are apologizing, it’s so insulting to my ears. 

I would never acknowledge or nod to it because why would I let you feel at ease when I lost countless good night’s sleep?

You thought you had him wrapped around your finger when you two strolled the dark night away alone.  

You think it was confidence, but that was cocky, and sometimes, it makes me wonder how can one fall out of love that fast? Wasn’t it tragic? All’s fair in love and war, and now I figure out why he started to stay faceless online; it must be you being greedy; you wanted him all to yourself since the beginning. 

You put a pressure me and had the guts to ask, “Why are we feeling cold?” Our paths never crossed since the last day we parted because who wanted to be unhealthily invested in somebody? So, it shows. 

If you thought sending that psychobabble to me could make me feel comfortable and forgiving— you were wrong. That was insane, and not even once did I consider you to be the main character you thought you were. You were present in your mind, but I am here in the moment. 

You are in no place to wish me well. You do not fit in my shoes and you have been looking up for too long. 

Those endless conversations got us to places that we created in our minds. You wouldn’t have thought it was romantic and I would have thought you were my one. My life was great yesterday until I introduced myself to you— it was overwhelming to consume when you figured my energy was too much.

My eyes used to crinkle up and my heart would skip a beat when your name appeared on my phone screen, now my lips curl downward when I see you around the net. You didn’t keep me up at most nights but you made me question how a man like you could get me all beamed up just to stagger out of the room steadily.

Were my friends’ thoughts of you true or did I have selective hearing? Did I get comfortable way too easily or were you too quick to call it a day? Were we like one of those sad songs waiting to end or was it just the bridge?

It wasn’t pointless to me, to say the very least— now that I know it wasn’t me hitting the stop button. You did get my hopes up when you were only meant to tiptoe around my feelings. And, no. I was nowhere near angry at you.

Flowers every Friday, red roses with poems tucked in and a quiet and down-to-earth relationship were all he asked for, a note of appreciation for the girl who taught him the language of sincerity.

He is a genuine gentleman like that.

The long-sized dark green cardigan that he is still wearing to this day, you would mistake it for thinking how sweet he is when he wears it on you when it is cold and chill outside when you are on the bus on the way home. 

He is a warm-hearted gentleman like that. 

He stares at you like a lost boy and keeps you in his orbit so that he can validate the excuses he comes up with when he cannot tackle the present. He matters the current and putting up a good face, just like I once told him to. 

He is a mindful gentleman like that. 

There shall be no problem finding good eateries out there when you are on a date as the list has been stacked inside his head. The cafes we visited before, the peach strudel he loves to the core and the strawberry matcha he wonders how it tastes like— it flows easily in his head this time.

He is a cognizant gentleman like that.

You missed the point when you thanked me for showing what happiness should look like. The audacity to say, “Thank you for making him happy before,” had it lingering in my head, and I almost burst out laughing.

Don’t be one-track-minded as it is too soon for that— you should embrace the situation’s complexity. Remember that you took someone else’s belongings. No one could question you on the length you take to claim him.

You are not exactly the good girl that your mom brags about. His friends from home think that you are a devil in disguise. And yet, he did not want to fix with me but to be better with someone like you. You deserve both heaven’s and hell’s wrath.

The ungrateful wretch who chases for a temporary bliss.

I put my heart on my sleeves, and it looks so horribly exposed. These days when I wake up and look at myself in the mirror, the feelings pile up in an amount of complications. 

“What kind of smile should I put on today? Sad smile or forced smile?” “Should I look uninterested during the conversation or just leave it?”

How naive I am to think how well-dressed I appear when I am barely clothed and emotionally naked— it’s all in my head.

I am full of love and grief. Yet, I still feel ashamed of myself when I am out wandering with my car or getting myself a good meal. Do I still find it difficult to wish you well now that you are the reason I am living in hell?

The teenager in me whispers how it has always been you when hopelessness envelopes me and it speaks slowly, perhaps whatever the best I pray upon you could be the worst for me. 

They say that there is no degree of ego but it seems like I cannot straddle any giant pride right now. So, you don’t get to judge me for the way I am trying to get over someone who I once believed the full moon to my darkest nights. 

You never get mad at me, but you let it out on your friends when they have no idea what is happening. Little did you know, they are still talking bad about you silently. They try to speak the reality to bring you out from your making-up fantasies, but they guess you are just not mature enough to be thinking their way. 

You never tell anyone what you are feeling that week, but you write it out on paper, and no one has any idea if it is the truth. Maybe if you are able to construct your words eloquently, someone will be your loyal listener for life. I can never seem to understand what you are saying, and you cover it up with stalks of red roses and my favorite dessert. 

You sing out loud to the song we listen to together in the car but you never read the lines of what the lyrics are about. You lose your voice when you are chasing over the temporary bliss that brings nothing in for you, and look at how flawed you are now. But I bet she will be completely floored over the flowery lines you present by now. 

You appear so tragically beautiful as if you are written by a woman in fiction and it is actually true because you are raised by those wonderful women. But, please do not pretend to be the good man when you waited for me in the dark when you are the bad guy who left me in the cold for another girl. 

Your endless affection had me right there when I was least expecting it. The way you lulled me to sleep with our favorite song, and now I sleep all alone by myself, haunted by the passing moments of you. 

Your smile was carved deep into my mind, just like how my name was engraved on the promise ring you bought for us, and now I am grieving, though I am still full of overflowing love.

The promises seemed to be coming true, just like the lyrics of the songs you sang to me and how you truly made it sound so enticing. 

I am still in an extreme state of denial and anger but I still picture myself to hear you say the three words to me again. And listen to you say those words of how much you missed me and how bad you wanted to have me beside you.

But it is all grey and dusty now. I just cannot wish for anything anymore and hope to have you come around with my cravings in your hand, delivered straight to my house.

She had one chance and took it all for herself.  Right there, when she cared for someone feeling all sorts and took him in all for herself. 

She had one chance and used it when he was alone and unaccompanied.  Right there, when she played the part well and was the devil in disguise, the best company yet. 

She had one chance and slid in around him, acting like she belonged in the place. Right there, when she repainted the walls around him, one hell of a chase.

She had one chance and be the cause of another woman’s tears and worth. Right there, when she captured the subject’s eyes to look at her.

She sure had all the time in the world when she stared at him and made plans to own him for her crown. Right there, when she never meant to surrender him, even to the ground.

The man that she preyed upon, she can proudly call him hers now— grabbing it from someone’s hold. 

There shall be a special hell for this being— though it takes two hands to clap and two to tango.

I heard they said something along the lines of “trust takes time”. Trust. Takes. Time. 

I was not as naive as you perceived when I knew that I should have not cared about what other people thought about me, but when I looked back at all the could’ve turned to couldn’t have that was when I started to question all the unnecessaries— the dark clouds aggravated my scenery even more.

It fazed me how your eyes were on me, but you were eyeing someone else, too. You held me tight on the focus, and when I thought we could make it through everything, I got carried away by your promises, and you got carried by some girl that you thought was the one after me. 

I figured that you might think that leaving a bad situation wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But, you terrorised me more than enough with your excuses that can’t seem exactly sit well with me. You declared that it was for the best, but how were my feelings? It’s incomprehensible to some, but you are living well now that I have nothing to wish for.

So, can I ask you something in this narrative? 

How do you stay composed and all right after the storm? How do you get over it without looking back? How do you trust yourself to be in love with someone just a few weeks after the breakup?