The Lines On Your Palm Are The Road I Want To Travel And The Place Between Your Fingers Is Where I Want

Half-finished Love Affair

a.k.a.  To Dean (before I found out your name was actually Liam), from Nicole

I once told you that I can hear the words “I love you” from your every smile, but you laughed and shut my words away to evaporate in silence. I was so in love with you that time that I didn’t took your sexy laughter as a warning of what was the real deal. I was too blinded by the sun in your eyes that I turned into your every own sunflower. I was too hooked with the taste of night skies on your lips that I painted myself with stars. I was too creamed by the mayhem of your fingertips that I became a catastrophe. I was too engrossed with every melody of your voice that I started to write you a love song name after you. I was so in love with you. And it was too late when I realized that you have been feeding me with thorns and I was a fool for swallowing them. You have been giving me promises that were already shattered that my palms bleed when I hold on to them. You have been poisoning my body that I couldn't go on with my life because I am intoxicated. It was too late when I realized that I was a joke for you when you were real for me.

(eusie.)

the thing is, we’re screw-ups. i don’t even know why we still stick with each other. maybe because we know that no one else will, for the very reason that we’re monsters.

juicy (eusie.)

Midnight thoughts sometimes are murderous

Then suddenly, you find comfort from the aching inside your heart,

and that’s when you start questioning yourself.

You realize You’re —

Like a ghost, lost in transition, dizzy from all the city lights, and hurting because soulless;

who are you really?

What do you want to happen?

What do you want to do?

Electric, and pounding like a patriot’s howl against the moonlight, then you lose yourself again.

(eusie.)

Itagaki Rihito 板垣李光人 (2021) Hair, makeup & styling by Takae Kamikawa

IG : amamiya_shion9

Fourier Series: An Almost-a-year Version

a.k.a. A Series of THIS IS FOR YOU’s

[11162013] Wow. Even the wind whispers your name.

[12012013] Sometimes, when I remember that you would never love me again, I remember to love you in silence.

[01192014] And so I wrote about you while half of my heart was aching.

[02262014] I asked yo to paint me once, but you chopped me into rhymes instead.

[03312014] I should have prepared myself for this. Now you’re stuck between my heartstrings.

[05202014] And I imagine that I can hug the moon, just as I imagine that I can hug you.

[05302014] You look at me and I swear, I almost felt your eyes bleed.

[06092014] I look at you and I swear, I almost felt the monster inside of me falling for you again.

[06172014] Please know that across the room, with 50 pairs of eyes, it’s still yours that I would want to stare at.

[07092014] I try to plaster your smile on my face just so I can fairly say that your smile is still mine.

[07172014] I’m still in love with you but I bet you don’t want me to be.

[07182014] And you’re not in love with me anymore because you don’t want yourself to be.

[09202014] When will I realize that sometimes, love is never having the one you want?

[11012014] Today is the day you died inside my heart. Hopefully.

(eusie.)

A poem written by Beau Taplin entitled, “Vacation”

a.k.a. That’s literally the title, and the poem is in italic by the way

I need to move around a bit. To shuffle my surroundings.

The day it all sank in, I didn’t find myself on the kitchen floor. But I sat on a chair, crying my heart out to the extent that I wanted it to disappear; I didn’t want a broken heart. The sobs that came from my sour lips bounced to the walls and then to oblivion, as if they knew that they were useless anyway.

To wake up in cities I don’t know my way around and have conversations in languages I cannot entirely comprehend.

I didn’t know what to read from these unknown yearnings at around two in the morning, of sad movies or sad songs, or probably just sad love. Or at mid-afternoon, when I wake up wanting something I don’t even know. Or when it rains, trying to reach out my hands and feel the drops and feel, just feel.

There is always this tremendous longing in my heart to be lost,

But after then, I know. I want to be lost in a place unknown, but then find myself in the same location where I think I forgot my soul. I want to wake up and walk to a balcony to see a different set of lights and colors waving at me from the day before. I want my heart to ache with the sight of people falling in love and knowing that I wouldn’t encounter the same love story the next city I’m in. I want to feel the lack of a familiar emotion when I come home, but know someday, I’ll be able to really forget the emptiness in my chest and really come home.

to be someplace else, to be far far away from this.

But I know that with these obligations wrapping me on my neck and disabling me to breathe properly, I have no choice of running away to find out the bliss of going to different places and being held captive by their beauty. I know that being lost in a place where no one knows my name and how my heartstrings tangle each other up to form my lonely soul is better than being found in a place where everyone drags me around and force me to suppress my dreams to want myself and feel myself and love myself after I lose myself.

(eusie.)

November 12, 2013

a.k.a. A Haiku

Like a daffodil, he’s my life’s greatest mistake — the best misfortune.

(eusie.)

Unexpectedly

too many poems too many unrequited love too many broken hearts and too many bruises and unwanted scars

too many persons oblivious to what they did

to gain existence in another world

a world called poetry

(eusie.)

get on the midnight train

i./ the ground feels familiar like the ivory colored tiles that greet me first whenever i get home/ like the cold cold cold ivory colored tiles at home that give out the warmest welcome ever because the ones i live with never bother to/ the ground feels gravely familiar like home/ am i home?/ the lights are dead and that’s probably why i smell a faint scent of roses/ the lights are dead but where are their corpses?/ the lights are dead/ am i home?/ the lights are dead; oddly, darkness is all i see/ am i really home?/ the ground feels gravely familiar and oddly, darkness is all i see/ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ i reach out to find nothing/ i reach out but end up touching the skin of no one/ i reach out with a heavy breath and shaking hands/ where is everyone?/ am i home?/ i dare to run and nothing hits me, just the faint scent of roses getting stronger and stronger/ i realize the scent is actually of dead roses/ this is not home/ the ground feels gravely familiar and oddly, darkness is all i see/ i reach out with a heavy breath and shaking hands/ the faint scent of dead roses getting stronger and stronger/ this is not home

ii./ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ this isn’t light blinding me/ this is darkness harassing my insides, making me me feel like this is something i want/ but this is not/ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ why am i the only one here?/ this darkness with its friends, the scent of dead roses and the ground that seems to know my sadness/ this darkness with its friends, the corpses of all things left unsee/ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ this is not home/ this is a prison where i am in because of something unknown/ but a murmur says otherwise/ why am i here?/ “because you didn’t go back”/ this is a prison where the beginning or end of all these things left unsee cannot be found/ where everything is gravely familiar but i still can’t put the pieces together/ why am i here?/ “because you didn’t go back”/ this is not home/ this is a prison where the beginning or end of all these things left unsee cannot be found/ and it’s all because i didn’t go back

(eusie.)