Coffee

You wake up in the morning and start for the kitchen. One cup of coffee to start my day right, you said. You didn't even wash your face first or drink a glass of water. You finish it standing up, with thoughts filling up your drowsy mind.

You walk about the kitchen slowly, as if every step should be well thought of. Patting the heads of your energetic puppies, your face curls up into a sad smile declaring: Here's to another day of aimless breathing.

You stood up upon feeling dizzy from the rush of blood from your head. You still held your cup and, upon finding it empty, started to make your second dose of caffeine.

You let out a loud, gratifying sigh. As if only one as loud as that could make you believe you're still living. Downing your drink as if it were ice-cold water in the searing heat of summer, you push away things that's been living in your head for too long. You fail. Miserably.

Upon finishing your second cup, your eyes start to well up with tears. You made your way back to your room as soundless as when you went out. Lying down on your unmade bed, you close your eyes, while thoughts swim in your drowsy mind.

Sad eyes never lie

It was December, and as the holidays drew nearer, the crowd grew thicker. I stood alone in a relatively quiet corner of this well-lit park (too bright, if you ask me), hands in my jacket pockets, practically freezing. I was extremely nervous, but more excited to tell you the good news. I would finally be free for a week and we could go anywhere we wanted. Five glorious days of nothing but you and me.

I looked up and saw you walking straight to where I was and I swear I could feel beads of sweat building up my forehead. I willed myself to smile, but alas, I can’t even move my mouth. Was it the cold or my edginess creeping in the surface? I couldn’t tell. Not that smiling mattered; you walked with your head down. That’s new.

By the time you were in front of me, I was virtually speechless. A simple touch can sometimes say more than a flurry of words, I believe. With that in mind and an immense longing to feel your warmth, I immediately reached for your hand, which you unexpectedly and, dare I say, mechanically drew away, as if you’re disgusted by even the thought of us holding hands. Looking up, I frantically searched your face for an explanation. With you still looking at the damp ground and I still at a loss for words, I waited. I think we both did. When you finally looked up though, I wished I knew better to avoid your gaze.

I saw the answer in your eyes.

It was a cold December night, and people poured in from every direction, as if being thrown up by the busy streets. I walked aimlessly through the maze of exuberant adults and children, hands tucked in my pockets, heart frozen.

Clumsy

I make for the door
I stumble, I fall


_____

Supposed to be a haiku, but I can't think of anything more to add. Yeah

The struggle

The more I try to ignore this budding feeling,
the more I fall for you

The more I avoid looking into your eyes,
the more I see through you

And as I try to drown these crazy thoughts,
my heart says "I love you"

ICU

Eyes gaze up, eyes meet
Trying hard to look away
Frozen by your stare

Duet

Sing me a love song
And I'll sing you another
Our hearts a-flutter

Unwanted

I cling to your arm
Hoping you would feel my warmth
You push me away

Unfamiliar

When did my touch start to feel foreign?

Is it after we've been apart for so long,

Or when you realized your love for me is gone?

Droplets of letters

On rainy days such as today, I am constantly reminded of a particular verse I made years ago. It was my very first thought as I opened my eyes one morning. As you have probably guessed, it was raining that day.

The rain keeps on pouring
My tears keep on falling
And like raindrops from the sky,
Pieces of me come crashing to the ground


Emo days, if you will.

After the break (fictional)

I've been single for three months now, after four years of being with someone. This is the first time I’ll be sharing about the relationship and, ironically, it’s the end of it.

It’s been three months, and I’m more devastated than I had let on (at least I know I should be). Wait, that’s not quite accurate. Truth is, I carried on day by day like I normally would—minus the sweet messages, frequent calls, regular dates… Well, you get the picture. I never shed a tear. Not even once. As if the moment you said it’s over, all emotions went down the drain. All I even mustered to say was a measly “okay.”

The universe decided today would be different, heck of a lot different, if I say so myself. I had a dream. It was the sweetest dream. Like the summary of those four wonderful years. Our friendship. Our courtship. Our relationship. Our breakup. And just like that, it turned into a nightmare.

I woke up feeling tears trickling down the side of my face. I heard myself sniff. Once. Twice. Next thing I know, I was bawling. Almost screaming. It’s been three damned months. This is the first time I’ve shown emotion—real ones. Delayed reaction at its best. I felt raw, bare. As if even the slightest touch would mar me, and leave a scar I would forever live with.

At that moment, I knew everything would change. Have I been subconsciously pretending all this time? Have I been purposefully delaying acknowledging the pain? I can’t quite grasp the reality of all this, of both the breakup and my lack of “proper” response (if there’s even such a thing). All I know now (and somehow I’m glad I do) is that I’m bursting at the seams, and I can’t hold on much longer.


This marks the beginning of my grieving.


_____

Because I cannot sleep last night.