#wclit

Tonight, tonight, I just came across to the wonderful beauty of being a soul – a body with spirit; I am alive to experience my rebirth: body to body, form to form. And even though I wanted to escape, something about you stays forever living inside of someone strange but familiar; I am carefully being destined from – life and love after love, as if the madness to reincarnate conspires within the distinct features to find you all over again, now, and hereon.

Indigo.

One last take of breath, and you will finally go. It is the end of you and the end of me; the dust from your skin left silent onto the stillness of your sleep – I began to wander, tormented, weeping to the little hands that hold you dearly, suddenly turned cold as I am not ready to let go. It was sad to think that I loved her, all my life, but I outlived her.

I was walking and lately I noticed, I saw my shoelaces loosen itself from the other. Out of something else, I realized of a sudden, the truth bit me to the core: no matter how good you are with someone, eventually you cannot tie them back again to be with you. If you are with someone now, here, I am telling you – be with her. That is it. Be with her as much as you can. Be with her and never let her feel alone. Be with her even if it is hard to put her back again in your heart. Do not ever let her go. I guess, you just have to accept that not all love succeed, and if it ever stays – just know that God always weigh you both from the start. Do not regret at the end. Because someone could possibly be there, like you, waiting to be caught again.

The slight tingle of my pulse as you wrap me with this myriad of experience, conforming to subtleties, adjacent, resolute, complacent. You made me feel brand-new to the enticement of the sensation –   falling down, like a water fall in my spine, corrugated, timely entwined in the curvature of our own rippling overture, the stance of awe, calmness and composure.

Even though how radiant you are to me; that even you are called blood and death - I still persevere, to let you in my soul.

Even if this night went on, sailing to the dark sea, I am also keeping myself drawn and lured to the murky shadows of this wall lit by a candle, pointing its fingers to the stars as sharp as a knife and could kill the blackness of my sight. While I am blindly alive from your love, crowning painfully in my wound. Oh, if you would just know, persistently how I bled to death, the way it used to love you alone.

It feels good that I could write on such a good flow, like a river being fluid – serene, chaotic, mad. And even though I could barely think well enough to process my thoughts; In this paper like enamel and water, I condensed myself that of a river being lost, wandering around the basin, locking itself from the bend of the current, meandering to reach out from the stench of the sea; Wherefore, I am still pacing myself outwardly like little roses spiraling itself, reaching out momentarily and utmost feeding its tired stomach from a poor dew.