If You Can Read This In Heaven (a Eulogy)
if you can read this in heaven (a eulogy)
i. i won’t tell her name. no, i won’t. but i will tell you about the patterns encrypted on her skin that i have tried to read. i will tell you how it went when i found out she’s gone to the moments i can’t remember anymore.
ii. i didn’t think she is cold as winter when i traced her backbones while she was asleep, i didn’t think that her bones will eat me when i tried to kiss the scars inside of her; what i thought was that she would be happily singing melodies as she shows me the remaining life inside her veins but i am half way between what i think and the truth
iii. because she is an unsent letter written by a star who fell in love with the moon. she is an unsent letter, full of tears, lost and blown away.
iv. to where she landed is where the moon shines the most, it blinded her and let her forget what she was meant to do; to where she landed is where she became a star and she had thought that the moon is the knight of day that saved her
v. so she fell in love, and she fell in love more and more each night. her tears became dusts that continued to blind her and poisoned her to think about forever. she drew a map within her edges, this is for her to look at when she’s lost in the moon’s light. she blew away the words that her mind whispered every day — the words that wanted to warn her. yes, she tried to be new. yes, she tried to become lovable. yes, she wants to be loved by the moon.
vi. but everything didn’t go the way she wanted and now she’s a dead body with a dying soul; the moon never looked at her, only shined for her, that’s why she crashed herself but only ended up being bones and a rib cage.
vii. this is when i stopped reading her like what i always do when i read books. i stopped reading her because i might cry. i said i’ll come back to where i paused and read her until the end but now she’s gone and i can’t remember anymore. no, i don’t want to remember. what i want is to follow her because the sound of her bones cracking and the smell of her unknown stories are calling me.
viii. so if you can read this in heaven, i want you to know that i’m talking about you; i want you to know that i’ll be following you.
(eusie.)
More Posts from Thsdfnngslnc and Others
an interview with my neighbor
part 1: mr jameson coles
frozen cookies are his favorite snacks; he said he likes his heart cold. he even likes to fill the path to his house with burned out roses. “because no one likes a love dwindled to nothing,” he replied when i asked why. sad love, sad love, sad love, i heard his eyes whisper. my heart ached. he always met sunrises with cold coffee which he made every night before. and he didn’t care if his shower won’t work anymore. “where do you take baths then?” he answered that his soul keeps wandering around anywhere but here. he likes the smell of nails. and he said he knows what everyone thought of him. the paintings in his living room always sing to him in a melody that resembled a voice in his past. he didn’t tell me a name. but he said his past liked every time it snows. “do you like it when it snows?” he then asked me. then there was a story behind his eyes that echoed out memories. sad love, sad love, sad love, i heard myself whisper. he secludes himself; he said it’s because he’s waiting. for a future he planned long ago with someone who’s not here anymore. the room surrounded us with an atmosphere that felt like i was traveling backwards. a howling wind screamed pain throughout as he looked outside the windows. then slowly, but tearfully, he murmured, “a sad love, isn’t it?”
(eusie.)
“Will you still love me in the morning?”
a.k.a. She says, “Yes,” while he answers, “No.”
She arrives at home a few minutes after five, clutching her heart tightly with her fingers. She looks around for a certain display of messy dark hair, her knuckles turning white every passing second. When her eyes couldn’t see what it sought out but meet a pair of amber orbs, she lunges forward onto its beholder.
He’s wearing his favorite navy blue shirt with gray linings on its sleeves, both of his hands clasping a book. His eyes turns back to it, she presumes, as she settles down in a leathered sofa in front of him. He’s seated on the loveseat, half lying on it even; his back resting on one rolled arm, his feet relaxing on the other.
She looks at his face and straightforwardly asks, “Why did you do it?”
He — who understood the question right away without any needed explanation from her to clear what could be a misinterpreted query — simply supplies, “I don’t like the way you look at it, or the way your fingers last a little more unnecessary than it should when you trace it through. I wanted it off right away the moment I couldn’t take it anymore.”
But you love it, she almost whispers. He used to, her mind takes in on account. “Are you okay?” she chooses to inquire.
He only looks at her, his amber eyes slowly mirroring an ember fire. He stands up and closes the material he was reading. She can hear her fingers tapping on her knees. Or maybe it’s the walls pleading in soft creaks. Or it’s her heart, with its great desire to come off of her chest and run away.
She wants to run away from the burning heat of her lover’s stare.
After a few minutes, she finds herself lost in a blurry surrounding. She focuses her vision and sees herself in the same sofa, her hands bleeding from how tight she was holding the end of her dress. Like how she’s holding her pieces together, just for it to not clutter and break into smaller ones.
But when she raises her gaze and find him at the edge of the stairs, she finally lets go.
And when he quietly murmurs an “I’m okay,” she decides she didn’t want to pick herself up. Her wounds will only cut deeper.
He didn’t even ask if I was, she thinks. Later, she stops thinking.
(eusie.)
Love like yours will surely come my way
Here's to someone, pt. 2
Forward. You are a once again a shade of blue, but with a little bit of green. This time I came close in hue. Now I know how your depths go, so maybe drowning with you isn’t scary.
Rewind. But I still look away when you try to hold me.
Stop. But I really hope this is the last time. But maybe not.
(eusie.)
i exist
you ask me if i’m fine. i say i’m fine. you look at me with one eyebrow raised, but you didn’t do anything after that. all these nights when you feel like shit, i swear i can feel your soul tearing apart with just one look at you. and you give your heart out as if you’re making love to me. but i know it’s only your sadness flowing out. and it’s not about the fact that you’re actually falling for me, or that you actually like talking to me. i ask myself what did i ever do wrong to be treated and feel this way. i ask myself what would i give for you to at least show that you care even for a damn minute, or a damn second. i just want you to know, i really need you to know... i exist; this heart inside of mine is beating. and it used to scream your name, but now it only stutters out each letter with so much pain as if with every one, one of my heartstrings break. i exist; the love i feel for you is real and it’s not made up. i exist; yes, you acknowledge that. but not entirely, only when you need someone when the one you actually need doesn’t want you. and yeah, i only exist during those times. am i fine? no, i’m not. but you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t care. i exist; i am human, and i have feelings. don’t break these pieces of my heart and shutter them more than they already are. i exist; can’t you see? (eusie.)
MATUTULOG NA AKO TAPOS PAPAIYAKIN MO AKO. WAG GANITO BES. MAMAMAGA MATA KO. ABA. SUSME. MAGSUSUOT AKO NG SHADES BUKAS NITO. PERO SALAMAT KULOT. LECHE KA. DI NA AKO NAG ENGLISH
PERO KAYA PALA DI KA MAN LANG MAGREPLY SA MGA MESSAGES KO. KALOKA
SAKA AYOS LANG YAN, NAIINTINDIHAN KO (the books part). ALSO, ANG GANDA AT ANG GALING BES. SHET. LOVE YOU XX
PS SIGE. PAGBIBIGYAN KITA NA MAGANDA KA. LOL. MAGANDA KA NAMAN. IN YOUR OWN WAY, PERO BES BALANG ARAW, MAY MAMAMANGHA SA KAGANDAHAN MO. PROMISE YAN
A promise
She smiles.
Time itself stops.
She feels like a good music.
A song in the wind.
A good song different (in) every single phrase.
Happy 21st birthday, you, mother of three dragons. HA! I just want to say that this is my first black-out poetry and it is about you (and you should be thankful). This is my way of telling you, I am lucky to be your friend and I am thankful that I am beautiful. oops! hahaha What I’m trying to say is, Happy birthday to you, my friend. I will always be here, Raphabelle (@thsdfnngslnc ).
Love, Khayonardo :)
PS. to answer your unasked questions, Yes, this is my book (from Every Day by David Levithan page 11), and yes, this edited. I love you but I love my books, too. I know you understand that. HAHAHAHAHA
Yes I want to write this fic. No I don’t want to figure out what happens in it. Also no I don’t want to write it <3
e.e. cummings, from “because it’s Spring” (in 73 Poems), Complete Poems: 1904-1962
Probably not a poem
Saying what I feel isn’t easy as breathing but every day, I would want to express it to you as I need to breathe. The first gasp of air I make every morning when I wake up is like a whisper of your name that reminds me that my heart is alive to love you again. Then, the whole day just smells like you, like your scent lingers on the walls of our house and everything that surrounds me wherever I go. This just makes me miss you. While a few minutes later, I'll miss you more than how I missed you moments ago until I just start to yearn for you… until I just yearn for your eyes to look into mine again; for your voice to show off its magic as all of me feels tingly; for your lips to say my name or to make me feel loved; for your hands to touch me and make me shiver… or for you to just hug me so I can feel your warmth that assures me that you won’t leave me. Please, please don’t leave me even if there’s a thousand reasons why you should. I know sometimes (or more often) my words are daggers — my actions too, or even just my silence — and that I probably make you bleed every day. I know that I can never be enough (and I’m sorry for this), and that I can never love you the way you love me (but please know that I love you very much). But keep on loving me because I would want to soak under the rain of your love forever. I love you. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts deep inside that my tears don’t come out of my eyes but they pop out of my blood veins and contaminate me like they’re toxic. But I’m okay, I can still breathe. And you probably feel the same way, hiding all pieces of you that I have shattered every now and then — hiding them instead of throwing them at me to wound me. But you always say that you’re okay, that you can still breathe. Our love for each other (or our relationship) may not be perfect, maybe all just wounds that turned into scars, or maybe just all bruises that cannot disappear, but I hope… I really hope we can survive it like a ship that succeeded to pass through a lightning storm in the ocean. Let’s remind the world that people can live because of love. So let’s make it through everything with our hands entangled and our hearts connected to every heartstrings of the other. Let’s keep on loving each other... loving all the flaws and pieces of the other all the same.
(eusie.)
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