I Think The Reason Why We We're Still With Each Other Is That We're Afraid Of Being Alone Again. And

trying to write a poem. or even a story. but shit

Alone

Under the stars and not mistletoe, she slow danced her way onto the snow — her eyes reflected the loneliness of the moon; her lips can tell the paleness of her life’s tune.

( ayen. & eusie. )

#pen #paper #ink #marks ?

Are you… asking me about my tags? If yes, then…

#pen is for posts that are just some of my (personal) babblings#paper are poems/prose/writings that are either about me, for me, or related to me#ink is for posts that i’ve written#marks are asks that i’ve answered

November 12, 2013

a.k.a. A Haiku

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

(eusie.)

Tell me lies a little more Make me cry a little more Break my heart a little more So I can love you a little less

September 18, 2013 (eusie.)

Louis T., 2013. “Always” (p. 28, para. 9)

a.k.a. This is actually about the day after we got married

An aftertaste remains permanent on my tongue like the kiss stains on my hair. The curtains keep calling out for the sun to get out of the room, and you notice I do the same. But you still travel your fingers on my naked skin. The night before shines on your eyes and I already miss your moans. You get up and scare off the sunlight, scolding it that it’s hurting me. I hold out my hand and caress your shadow dancing on the bed sheet. I hear you whisper, “I’ll make breakfast.” You make your way to me and pass the stars on your lips to the skies deep down my throat. But you didn’t move at all after that. We keep on tracing the constellations on our mouths. The bed creaks loudly, but I can hear the smile forming on your face as you fix yourself beside me again. “Have me instead,” I mumble, then I grin. I’m happy. You’re happy. We’re blissfully staring at each other’s eyes, knowing that finally, we won. But today is another day, and so is tomorrow. There will be mountains to climb again, and I know we both need each other to keep our feet chained on the ground. I wouldn’t let you sail off without me. You wouldn’t let me drown without you. “I love you,” you sing to me. And I hum, “Always.”

(eusie.)

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.)

But there’s a Love that’s Worth the Wait

I've been always keeping in mind that there's more to life than falling in love, and that I should just wait. But the more I believe myself that I'm really waiting, the more I'm looking out everywhere, searching for love.

(eusie.)

P.J.Q.

“It’s true, you’re beautiful.”

— don’t... please...

(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.)