Realization.

No one ever told me that making my own decisions would be so painful, or that love was treasonous. I was misinformed when they told me that people were good, and that life was easy. When you told me that your arms were my safe haven, I should’ve been more aware of the venom of personal interests. When I kissed you, I should have been a bit more honest - I was not looking for love - but I wasn’t. When I said I was yours, I should have also mentioned the bit of me that belongs to a force insurmountable.


But this here is the truth: I love you. Had it not been for you, I never would’ve realized this much about myself. I don’t accredit everything to you, but you’ve helped me propel myself - yet at the cost of losing you. At the cost of forfeiting you, I forfeited a part of me that will forever remain in the uncertainty of the wind. By losing you, I’m not sure what all I have gained, besides the dismal recognition of your absence.

I've finally learned to be more open. I've finally learned to just say what's on my mind, with preoccupation of the world around me. Perhaps I just feel that compelled to you; Perhaps it was my lack of full awareness. I don't care what it is. I just needed to say it. I just needed you to know. I just needed to feel like I knew, for once, what the hell I was doing, and not blaming it on fate.

Deplorable Conditions

I want to write poetry,
I want to write you a song.
I want to sleep comfortable
I want to be happy
I want to know that everything will be great
I want to breathe without worries


I just want you back, alright?

Roses

The roses you gifted me are still beautiful, it's really a wonder. They're a slightly deeper hue of red, but they're not withered, nor wilted in the least sense. The largest one of the dozen remains as red as my lips, rather red if you ask me. Although, these beauties of nature remains, our relationship does not, and I regret ever making that decision. Yet, laissez-faire is the way I must go. I won't beg, nor plead. I want you back, but I shall not impose upon you my wishes.
I genuinely cared about you, but what more can I do?

Catharsis

Don't think I'm beginning to torment you, because that is not my intention. I only wish you the best, and perhaps you don't care about what I'm about to say, but you need to know this. You need to know that I love you for the wrong reasons, and I want to love you for the right ones; I didn't realize it until I fell asleep, and woke up crying this morning.
I love you because of what you do for me, and I want to love you for the way you make me feel. I know the distinction is hardly noticeable, but follow me on my logic, if you wish. I realized that I'm lonely and alone, even with a life like mine that has granted me a plethora of amazing friends, and you. Even though I'm surrounded by people that care about me a lot, I still felt, and continue to feel dissatisfied with everything that I do. I am not excited by that which used to bring me excitement, nor am I capable of caring and loving as much as I used to, and it's a problem within me that only I can fix. I cannot oblige you to follow me into the depths of uncertainty with me, when the consequences are exactly that- uncertain. I love your company, I adore who you are, but you were only a service to me, and unfortunately I only realized it today; I did not intend for you to be that, and I don't want you to be that, especially if I want you back as much as I do.
I want to be in love once I am who I am supposed to be, and not in the state I am now. It's not fair to you, and no matter how much I want you back, you shouldn't come back to me until I am certain of myself.

 I swear on everything that I do love you, and I really want you back.

Honestly.

I shouldn't be jealous, but I am.
I shouldn't care, but I do.
I should really hate you beyond relief.
I should know what's good for me.

You're acting strange, and I do hate you.
He's being everything I need, and I love him.

New Adventures

Must you be so far? And I so busy?
It seems repetitive to say this, but I miss you.
Since I'm being honest lately, I might as well include 
the "I love you". Because I do.
It's lovely to hear your voice again, after how long?
Who cares, we're enjoying ourselves, and it's obvious.
You still remember what I like to hear,
and you still somehow manage to like my rants and raves.


Let's meet up for tea, shall we?
I can finally enjoy that which I've had to hide for much too long.
We could finally start healthily, like we tried so many times last year.

Unfulfilled

Days away from the anniversary of the beginning of a melancholic life, I need you now more than ever; straying away from that which is good for me, I am not satisfied. I am bored. I've already signed my letter of resignation to a life so banal. I have an aspiration, yet I shall not disclose that to you just quite yet.

Allow me to apologize for not having my arms ready for your arrival! Allow this bond of ours to mature in the depths of our hearts and souls and minds. My love, allow for us to be true to ourselves for once.

A Letter with No Direction

At this late hour, my love, my thoughts revert back to you. Naturally, a wave of guilt comes with this satisfaction - for the younger love I have is tender and juvenile, unsuspecting of the strong ties between you and I. His aloofness is peculiar, but it too is a blessing, and I'd rather not pontificate on the possibilities of his reactions towards this clandestine love.


Perhaps you disagree, and wish for me to live honestly, and without the corrupt and eerie wiles of our nature, but it's alluring and intoxicating and unforgettable. A life without you is a life unfulfilled, as a life with him would be much too innocent for me to endure. I have been exposed to the world, and its infections; I am not prone to pain as much as he is, and it's a tale of anxiety to continue to love him. Yet, if you and I were to be bound again, a mature and rejuvenated love would bloom, and the subliminal and hidden messages would be of no use to us any longer. We could explicitly be enamored by each other's gaze; I could kiss you without the night cloaking us; you could hold me without having to let go.


Once again, my true love, my wants and needs match my imagination: Born these dreams into reality.

Thank you, V. Frankenstein

You've wounded me much more than you think you have; this pain isn't all because of you; this fury and wrath aren't born from your treason; this disgust and disappointment have infested these veins and heart much before you- God, am I the modern Prometheus? Cursed to the same torture every day, just because I exuded eternal love?- but, I have to dismiss you from my life. Disillusionment has painted everything a terrible shade of jade, and I no longer can withstand the adversity of pain. I want to crumble, totally, and fall before man. I want my fall to be shown to the world as an example of a distraught figure, scratched by the world's truths; I want to publish my pains; I want to yell my pains; I want to relieve the world of its pains, ever so slightly, by relieving my own pains. Solitude is that which I seek. Solitude and beautiful reclusion. 

Life is an Interesting Game

I'm sick to my stomach.
I want the earth to consume my identity.

And you visit.