I ask questions, "Make it make sense". Love isn't supposed to be like this. Why are the hands i deemed safe now holding shards that cut me?

Take a picture in black & white. Because I knew you a hundred years ago & I will know you for a hundred more.

The saddest part is, that all this rage used to be faithful love. I'd hold ur hand close to my heart even when it crushed. Kissed your lips that accused me and loved your heart that held me in question.

If I think of you by day, be sure then that I dream of you by night. If I am to wake rested and weightless, I must erase you. Award myself half a minute of quiet till the longing starts again.

I wonder what I am like in a parallel universe where I don't know you.

I never needed you to say it. It was always in your eyes. So if you wonder whether I knew, I did. Long before you.

Enough

When Love comes around again

All the words I've ever written, are ink upon my heart. You touch me there and Your hand comes away cerulean blue like the dye. Speak to me and go away pondering poetry. Whoever said that to love a poet is easy never knew their mind.

They say that what your mind forgets, your body will remember. I will always remember where you held me, from those days swathed in warm pink light. My mind will forget, because remembering the loss hurts, and this would be my mercy to myself. But my skin will remember. Maybe one day, years down the line, you will hold my hand again and the recognition would bring back memory. Maybe there won't be grief then.

Nothing will feel like the peace from when you were 5 and sleeping in your parents bed.

I want to speak to the people past and present, the poets, the revolutionaries and the traitors. I have questions without answers; Does it feel like this? Can it stop? Can I go back? Will that change anything or bring new troubles instead? Why does it hurt this much?

There is this urge to scream and cry. I'm not sure if it's for the wrongs in the present or the wrongs in the past that I never got to grieve. Grief feels like trying to ride a bike. I've forgotten how to peddle. The only thing now is to get even. It's a cruel thing. I was not raised to be cruel.

I know I loved you once. I know we had laughter, the sparks, and the belief of a forever. I don't know that girl anymore. But I can almost feel a ghost of her when you look at me with hope, even though we said we wouldn't go back. I don’t have the heart to tell you she's gone.

As you move towards her, a new lover you say is better than me, older than me, maybe she will stay longer than me... I hope that you love yourself better than when I loved you. Don't let insecurity be the rust in your new house of dreams like it was in ours.

Moving on from you feels like shedding old skin. Flakes fell off from a girl I once was but no longer recognised.