Let’s Give Up

LEE KNOW for BEAUTY+

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.)

I can’t believe...

Half smiles broken wings I am out of feathers When will I ever be whole?

Deafening silence sunken eyes It is not comforting It is not pleasant Shaking voices heavy sighs Should I just let go? Should I just stop breathing? Oh, let me scream let me cry I wonder Why am I still alive?

(eusie.)

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.)

P.J.Q.

“It’s true, you’re beautiful.”

— don’t... please...

(eusie.)

listen. i want everything to finally be over. but i don't want the process. i don't want to be in between. i want to be at the beginning and at the end only. i don't want the stress. please and thank you

hey isla. is it alright if you write me a poem? hindi ako makapagsulat ngayon eh, but i really want a poem right now. you know who this is, although we're not really close, so it's okay if you don't want to. good evening -uc

Hello UC! :) I hope you’re doing just fine. Here’s your poem (:she lies in her bed tonight staring at the ceiling, clutching her chestshe’s thinking of the last time when someone cut her chest openwith lies and false promisesbut tonight she’s afraid;she’s fragile and weaksomeone’s gonna cut her open againwith kisses leaving heartaches and the poor girl knowsshe’s about to get hurt

Mga pekeng bulaklak

a.k.a. I hope we were monsters instead

For the first time, I tasted nothing from your lips and it was supposed to make me feel scared. You asked me what it feels like, I replied, “Like fairy dust” — “sweet as a fantasy dripped in purple paint, brushed against the canvass of my tongue.” And I made you smile. And I was supposed to be guilty.

For the 22nd time, your lips still tasted like alcohol. Damn, you just couldn't make my heart flutter. But I asked you what it feels like, and I hear you say —  “Like a reckless night that should trouble me but it doesn’t, instead it hushes my clamorous thoughts.” And I gave you a smile. But it wasn't really for you.

(eusie.)

B.raV.O.

Dear (b    n),

You’re: another shade of perfect that won’t match with my skin; a walking perfect disaster (a soft, soft sin).

You’re: a little too late — but still a wonderful feel — of autumn bliss; another fairytale worth a poisoned apple kiss.

You’re: pale, yet rosy and gray; midnight rumblings of ‘stay stay stay.’

You’re: a loss of breath; a wrong kind of fret.

You’re: my wrong-timing, my would-have, my what-if; my probably, my maybe.

Yours,

(eusie.)

pieces by pieces, pt. 1

i kiss your name to the stars / and i write your eyes on my skin / i wish i couldn’t smell your lips every time they curl into a smile / because even if i can’t taste your love, these feelings just wouldn’t sink / i end up with a pair of dead lungs from breathing too much of you / but too much is never enough, and so i desire more / if i need to be brutally honest, i hereby confess / there isn’t anything in this world i’d rather take in but the endless melody of the pain of you / you’re way too out of reach, these hands of mine are knocked out / and there’s no need to call out your name, you wouldn’t hear me anyway / but still, when i close my eyes, it feels like you’re close / echoing how you love me even if you don’t / your shadow is my moon on a dusky night / along with the dancing smoke coming from your cigarette kissed lips / but your walls are tremendously and sensibly high / will i ever see the sunrise from your eyes?

(eusie.)