My Ghosts Disappeared, Only To Be Replaced By Yours.

Let’s put it like this

a.k.a. I changed ... a couple of times

Your presence can be heard in every shut of the eyes and in every nightmare turned into screaming out of beds while sweating like there had been a storm that poured down on our naked skins on every morning in the month of December. The afternoon radios that sing the saddest of lyrics are snowflakes in our noses melted into small amount of water that tickle our spines — they are like you. You numb the tears out our of hearts and hold our cells and wrap us in ice, not to slowly constrain the happiness hiding in our bones to conquer our veins, but to carve us into like you, to become sadder and colder, and to become a blizzard.

(eusie.)

i can taste the tears from the way you write and i can hear your heart cracking each time you speak

an excerpt from a poem i wrote and deleted, pt. 1 (eusie.)

How to spell?

She starts to talk about Mississippi, and across these ill-painted walls, I hear a whisper. You’re a fool for her.

I remember when my mother used to say, “Don’t use all of your heart,” and “Leave a little bit of love for yourself.” I always rolled my eyes, because I didn’t know back then. And now, if my mother would yell at me for being this close to giving myself up just so she can say she loves me back, I wouldn’t care.

Fighting the urge to caress her cheek, I fond over her smile. She continues to go on about attending her favorite band’s concerts. Her eyes burning like she’s on fire. She says she’s excited to wear her tight black dress if she ever has a chance to go. I notice how her face’s suddenly painted in crimson as she longingly looks to a distance. Then she says, “I want to be kissed by someone as we listen to my favorite song being sang live.”

I could feel my soul closing in on her and kiss her lips, as if I’m the one that she wanted to be with her. But I know she doesn’t. So I pull myself back, and try not to feel hurt.

I return into trance when she mentions my name. That’s when all of my insides dry. But fuck. Her voice is like my blood, and the way the letters of my name slip from her tongue, I would think that she was the one who weaved my being. I ask her what else does she want to talk about.

And if I lose myself once again with just by her presence, I wouldn’t want her to know. I’ll just let her continue to tell the things she dreams about, even if I’m not one of them.

I’m a fool for her. Yes, I am.

(eusie.)

Could it be / that besides the moon, / there’s one planet / who also fell for the sun? / Could it be / that she was broken, / and because she cannot bleed, / she cried until she died / while her tears scattered across the Milky Way / and they’re the stars / we see in the evening sky?

April 21, 2014 (eusie.)

braces in and out & ellipsis

a.k.a. yes, it’s from me. but don’t worry, i don’t

this is how i think it is: the sound between your sketch pads and your pencils are silent from where i am / but your heartbeat is steady like my room's wall clock / it's probably a roller coaster of a ride, but your emotions are too wild to acknowledge / so you hide them in a whip of one color then another, or you drip them in monochrome / and maybe sometimes you find yourself dancing to the wind's songs / but when it whispers a name, you cover your ears and sail yourself back to drawing

(eusie.)

so here it is

a.k.a. and i told you, and i told you, so please listen

i told you at ten past three in the morning, we don’t have winter but when i press the end call each time you say good night, i feel a little chill as if your voice is meant to be a camp fire on cold night but instead, it’s a landslide — a hurricane — a snowstorm — and i told you at twelve past three in the morning, i should feel guilty and i should feel bad, but i don’t, and nothing ever comes pouring out of my lips, even the word ‘sorry’ each time you cry and say that it’s your fault, when really, it’s mine, and i told you at thirteen past three in the morning, i don’t feel you slipping away, but i feel myself running away, and i don’t even see myself muttering a goodbye, but i said to you, i will, oh i definitely will, and i told you at fifteen past three in the morning, i do remember when we asked each other to never let go, i do, i do, i do, and i told you at sixteen past three in the morning, i really i hope i won’t let go just like you won’t, and i wish it’s true, and i told you at eighteen past three in the morning, i’m not going to cry, but my heart is aching, and i hear myself sniffling, and i find myself looking at the mirror, with stars on my cheeks where your kisses used to sleep, and i know, i just know, that it’s been a long time since i told you i’m in love with you, and i cry again a little bit, and you’re crying too, and you’re saying sorry again, muttering it’s your fault, but it’s not, and i told you at twenty-one past three in morning, i just miss you, i long to kiss you, and i want to bury myself in your arms, and if you choose to leave me because of how these pieces of mine that are on the floor are way too shattered, your fingers will bleed, so you’ll end up giving up from saving me, i said i would be okay, because i’m a mess, and i told you at twenty-three past three in the morning, i love you, and i told you at twenty-eight past three in morning, i’m in love with you, when i finally stopped crying, when i finally calmed myself, i told it again, and you ended the call, and i told you at thirty past three in the morning, ‘it’s okay’ when you call and say sorry, and then i say it’s my fault, and then i say ‘good night’ without another ‘i love you’, and i still feel alright

(eusie.)

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

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

The boy of my dreams turns out to be a nightmare.

Wake me up (eusie.)

sumesex naman ata di murder eh

// murder naman yata eh, hindi sex //

This is about Don’t even think about it, yes?

Hi. I’ll just be in the corner and contemplate about what I did wrong. And probably study about read between the lines? DUNNO. Good evening

@bookhay: “Nalibugan ka lang bes hahahaha”