And I Just Let Her Use Me

being

silence is comforting. but sometimes, it’s like a gun to the head, or a start button for overthinking to creep over. (eusie.)

November 12, 2013

a.k.a. A Haiku

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

(eusie.)

and suddenly, i just miss you again

In-se-cure

a.k.a. I want to forget your name

I turned my back away from haunted walls one night with shaking hands and eyes lost in focus, with lips startled and words buried deep within six feet down my throat. There had been a war across my horizons, among my thoughts, along with bombs exploding leaving me deaf to every “You’re beautiful” thrown against my face ever since. They see me flush in red, but burn with questions that can make every human’s words into ashes. I don’t trust what they say, because whenever I see myself as I stand in front of the mirror, I can hear my own eyes gasp. With my hands clasped to each other and tied above my chest, mouth slightly open, eyes glued to the ceiling — I started crying again. The moonlight peeped through my windows, and I think I saw your face in the dark. My knees traveled to be clenched by my arms. There was sudden heartbeat, then another.. like a continuous bang on my bedroom door. Ignoring it, I tried to forget the reason why everything seemed to be connected to you. More like I tried to find the reason why, because although they said I am worthy and I didn't deserve you, what I have been keeping in mind is when you let go in a whisper, “You just weren't enough.”

(eusie.)

The deafening silence of winter melodies

Sometimes, the smell of the morning just pushes me to wonder, like how I need to think about everything — all at once — in a moment, and sometimes, the afternoon symphonies tend to capture every little thing inside my head, and eat them all up, until the thoughts of how alone I am in my life are left inside. Then it just starts to get worse because they howl and cry like they’re lost, or like they want to get out, and that’s why I’m wide awake every night. It’s just... so deafening to listen to this silence; it’s so tiring and I can’t help but to silently scream at the top of my lungs — to scream silently inside my heart. I’m exhausted and maybe, I won’t survive this winter and its melody that kills me and haunts me to think of everything I ever loved:

Like how I used to love every detail of the night, how the pale glow of the moon and stars reflect in your eyes; how the wind slowly brush against my cheeks while we lie side by side on my bed; how we serenade by the sounds made by the crickets and other insects outside while we whisper I love you to each other. Like how I loved you, and how I can still remember the every detail of your face, how the mole in your left eyelid look when your eyes are closed in your sleep; how the fringes of your hair fall on your face after you slide your fingers through your head while thinking; how your nose turns to pink when you’re about to sneeze; how the corners of your lips move when you smile; how your breathe reach me every time you talk; and how your cheeks look like they’re burning after I kiss you.

Now, the only thing I love about the night is the darkness in it, and how stars to me, are just shattered promises. When they die they become black holes they consume everything within their reach and I seemed to have become consumed with one.

I can’t stop thinking if everything you said to me was just a lie and if the sparkle in your eyes every time I look at them is just an imagination of mine. I can’t stop thinking of what you really feel about me, of what do you think about when we were together, and of the possibility that when I was in your care, it killed you. I can’t stop thinking if my words ever reached you, and if our words wished upon a shooting star, one night, were just my own wishes.

My once filled dream of our future together had died along with that shooting star. They died right before my very eyes, and all I could do is watch. My forever turned into ashes of piled burnt promises, they stayed under my bed and sprawl into my feet at night; they haunt and broke me over and over. Our laughter and melodies had become a deafening silence that only I could hear. Words left unsaid and rotting inside my head, thoughts about our love lost had caused turmoil of dilemma in my head for those cold winter nights, and the last time that I have seen your face, was the time I know, I had lost you because you had chosen her instead of me. Betrayals and regrets are eating me alive—they cut through my skin and sting into my flesh. I need a way out, I need to escape and stop this excruciating pain.

So on the night of your wedding day, I went outside. On the cold icy night, I wandered and tried to lose you in my head once more. I went to the park, where we used to sit for hours every Friday afternoon. I brought out the blade that I had bought on the day you left without bidding a proper goodbye. I have been thinking about this since day one, and now I know, I have found my way out of this misery you have caused. The pale white snow, soon become stained with a red pigment coming from my wrist and then I knew, this will end soon.

( ayen. & eusie. )

N.J.R.

please don't be another mistake. or another regret. or another memory i would want to erase.

(eusie.)

moved on to another universe wish upon the stars to have me back

i & you could, a.k.a. “hence, pt. 2” (eusie.)

Don’t even think about it

The two of them are on top of the world, and with only a little bit more, they’ll be on the edge. No one else knows where they are. Instead, the music circulating on their veins take them away from the fact that she is with him. No one else knows that the town will forever be dripped in red starting from that night. No one else knows.

She looks at him though, as if he created the universe with his smile. Her ribcage breaks from how fast her heart beats. It is chaos to be in love with him, but she doesn’t know it yet. Tick tock — Her breathing halts  — tick tock  — after he sings her name  — tick tock  — and she thinks her whole existence will rupture —  tick tock  — with the sound of his voice. She barely hears someone screaming at the strike of midnight. And with another tick of the clock, her mind becomes a black hole.

He knows he has this effect on her, of course, and his soul rejoices with it. But does he put his lips on hers? No. Instead, he caresses her fingers slowly and softly. Then he whispers, “Like waves crashing on your shores.” He reaches for her neck, and he sucks in her smell. “Like a storm coming your way,” he continues. Then as his nose ventures from her jawline to her cheeks, he goes, “Like a gun sketching on your face.”

The night appears to be calm. Both of them appear to be calm. She appears to be calm. But —

The night feels flustered. Both of them feel aroused. She feels dizzy. And he feels victorious. He starts —

He tells her she is a treasure chest that shouldn’t be hidden from the world. So he opens her up like her insides are gold. She feels like glowing. He kisses her curves in between like knives cutting through skin. It’s a ticklish feeling, she thinks, as a satisfying warmth flows down to her stomach. He pulls her out. And if she was struggling to breathe ever since he kissed her skin, she struggles more so as her lungs die from his touch. But she still feels like glowing, as if she is the sun. She is the sun to his universe.

This time, he finally he kisses her lips as his fingers linger on her cheeks. She notes to herself that he tastes painfully delicious. He looks down on her and she blushes. She covers her heart, embarrassed that maybe he can see his own name on it. But he can see it, and so he travels in between her heartstrings, planting his teeth. He smiles at her after, and her heart stops right there. But she manages to kiss him, and she gets dizzy again. She feels him punching something, but she calls out to the universe. Her moaning harmonizes with the night’s melodies.

And then, “I’m in love with you,” comes out from her abused and wet lips as it reddens more than a red sea. “I’m in love with death,” comes out from his as he horribly presses hers together. “Then I am too,” she continues, but her words disappear with the wind’s cries.

Tick tock — There is silence, then a couple more exchange of murmured words — Tick tock.

The two of them are on top of the world, and after crawling gracefully on this starless night, she finds herself on the edge. And she falls down. No one hears her groaning as she lands on the scattered stars on the ground. No one even notices. Until everyone does. But no one knows what happened. No one.

Six hours later. Six days then. Six weeks after. No one still knows. And no one knows that someone knows. That he knows.

He remembers their last words. He remembers his heart dancing on fire. “Don’t mention it,” he says after she thanks him. He remembers her eyes bleeding and burning. “Won’t even think about it,” she says before she closes her eyes.

No one else still knows what happened that night. No one even notices his murderous eyes prying on everyone who asks him about her. Because, no one will ever admit it, but everyone is probably in love with him too. So no one else questions when he answers, “It’s suicide.”

(           k & eusie.)

Hello, it isn’t me.

I don’t know when I started to feel the coldness of my bed. But these sheets beat me when it comes to the realization of the absence of your warmth. It took me days to understand that you won’t march back in with all the stars in your eyes. I never tried to open the lights after the day you stormed out, for I don’t know if I can stand to not see your shadows moving in to hug me from behind. Or to sneak downstairs at dawn just to let me wake up to the smell of pancakes or macaroons. I left the kitchen sink on, just so I’m not the only one who continuously fill one’s self with wasted tears. The house is a mess just as I am. Everything is flooded with our memories, and I feel like I was blinded by the smell of your breath every time you mention my name.

I guess, I just really miss you. But I won’t admit it yet.

(eusie.)

“Sometimes I wonder / if I’m really the best / person for this body.”

— — John Elizabeth Stintzi, from “Salutations From the Storm,” Junebat