Latest Posts by thsdfnngslnc - Page 2

i think the reason why we we're still with each other is that we're afraid of being alone again. and we know that finding love again would take time

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.)

ˌdedəˈkāSH(ə)n/

There are tears buried in between these sheets, ones that kept us awake with deep cut hearts. There are tinges, hidden from plain sight, ones that came from our blood stained fingertips. There are marks and tiny scrapes across these papers, ones that were caused by the scars of our skin.

But there are giggles running around through each space. There are whispers of hopefulness in each page. There is love felt by each letter dripped in nightly ink.

This is a collection of shards from our war souls. This is a recollection of the strands of what we fought for.

There is a piece of us in this. This is us. This is for us.

— “Cheers to ourselves”, The Researchers

(eusie.)

i want to travel. until i fall in love with a place (a city) or a person (a home). and settle down.

a part two of something before this (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.)

me: is a sappy little shit

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.)

The next morning, they meander along the coastal trail for an hour or so. When the sun begins to rise, they stop to look over the water. [He] stands by the edge of the cliff, facing the sea. He — finally feeling the fatigue of the miles and the hours — is sitting with his back against a large rock.

The sunrise is a little more than a finger-smudge of pale blue, glimmering in the dark sky, but then it slowly brightens into a wide beacon of gold, like a snitch hovering on the horizon. And at last, it casts the first rays of brilliant light over the waves, outlining [him] sharply against the sky.

He stares at [his] silhouette for a long time, and it's only when [he] turns [his] head to gaze into the sun that he realises he's trying to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with [him].

It's a terrifying feeling. It's easy to lust after someone, to match their face to a missed heartbeat or a sharp intake of breath. It's easy to say, I want them because of the colour of their eyes, the lines of their body.

It's something else entirely to say, I want them because of the way they rest their hands on a steering wheel, the way they gaze out a window, the way they say my name.

— eleventy7, “Running on Air” (An excerpt)

found, and never lost again

a.k.a. with papers on the floor and ink bleeding on nothing, i say, “maybe words are not enough to describe you”

you are afternoon walks under the sun’s rage and we burn whenever, but it feels good like cold water caressing our skin, and we know we’re alright you are running on a sidewalk with laughter beating the sound of cars as background music, and the smell of meat pies that i love to eat you are the feeling of falling asleep after a tired day, and you are stolen kiss in the dark and heavenly giggles after our lips part you are lullabies at dawn and ballads on rainy days, and when i want to dance, i dance to your name, i dance to your heartbeat you are my wild love (the “i won’t” to my “why don’t you leave me”, and the “libre kita” to my “gutom ako”) and one day you’ll be the horrible smell of morning breath, you’ll be the glorious taste of morning coffee, you’ll be the unnecessary fights after eight o’clock, and the bouquet of exquisite roses waiting on the kitchen table at 15 past five, (the “take care” after “i’m off to work”, the “good night” after “i love you so much”, and the “midnight snack lang” after “saan ka pupunta?”) and you’ll still be my wild love, i’ll still be loving you, and writing about you, and you’ll still be my wild love (my “pangit ka”, my “damulag”, my “babuy”, my “love”)

(eusie.)

Still aching, still still

It’s almost dark, and the sun is already giving up from waiting too long for the moon to kiss him good night. Nearby, city lights are seen waking up slowly from their sleep. Then there’s a calm feeling that tiptoes into a homeless tiny boy’s heart when he looks up to swallow the stars as they begin their daily routine of sewing the skies with their warmth. There goes an echo after a single leaf fell down to the ground from which tree it belonged. Nearby, little flowers are singing silently to the song that echoes from the wind’s passing. But one thing that is almost known by the universe, is the soft heavy sigh that always come from a river between these little flowers and trees, between the people and city lights, and between the world and the stars.

It is uncertain when it started, but ever since then, the night is always achingly lonely just as the river is. But the river is still. And the river is quiet.

Sometimes. the river’s cries can be heard during rainstorms, it’s almost not there, but it is, as the river never really wants anyone to know about its nightmares. Sometimes, the river hums a tune to which leaves from the world above escape to and lead them to places unknown. Sometimes, the river dance when people encourage it to, their skin loving the river’s every rhythmic wavy touch, and the river swallows all the attention as it never really want to feel sad all the time. But sometimes, when everything is still, the river is still, and the river is quiet, and the river is quietly sobbing.

It is still uncertain, but the universe knows it eminently, that the river is aching, still aching, and that the river is still, still still.

(eusie.)

'Cause I want a love that's meant to be.

while looking at two people, I asked no one in particular, are they each other's twin flame? (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.)

Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.

Emery Allen

i "sometimes i think, you don't even want to be found" ii "maybe because the person who i want to find me isn't even searching for me" — listening to "lost boy" by troye sivan (eusie.)

Here’s to someone, pt. 3

Dear (h    n),

You should know by now that this is about you

But if you’re not in love with me too then I doubt that you do

There were no fireworks or violins playing beautifully the heaven didn’t open its gates and set out its angels to sing love songs

No when my eyes first landed on yours I got stranded on the crooked smile on your lips and on the calm sea surrounding you

I think that’s when I realize that I might end up sinking that I might end up drowning

And I didn’t know if I should be afraid

But this feeling this magical feeling each time I saw the sparkle in your eyes when I glanced at you

But this feeling

I knew it won’t run away from me but stay and hide in each of my veins and my heart will explode with this feeling of you with this feeling of wanting you

I knew I knew I would fall for you

The second time my eyes landed on you the crooked smile was back but the calm sea was now a storm

And I was already sinking

And and and then

You said my name

I think that’s when I realize that I might end up drowning next

And I still didn’t know if I should be afraid

But this feeling this magical feeling was still there each time I saw the sparkle in your eyes when I glanced at you and as if you stitched my soul my heart craved and craved for your attention and for you to say my name again

But this feeling

I knew it won’t run away from me and my heart will explode from every word escaping your lips each time you speak to me with every hair on my skin you lit up each time you smile at me my heart will definitely explode with this feeling of you with this feeling of wanting you more

I knew I knew I was falling for you

The third time my eyes landed on you

I, I, I

I think I was already crazy but there were fireworks there were violins playing on the background and the heaven opened its gates to let the angels sing their love songs

And with the clouds smiling at me and the wind whispering a happy melody

I got stranded I sank

And I definitely was drowning and already falling

And I wasn’t afraid

Because this feeling this magical feeling did not run away from me and my heart will continue to explode with this feeling of you with this feeling of wanting you endlessly

I love you I love you I’m in love with you

And you should know by now that this is about you

But if you’re not in love with me too then I doubt that you do

Yours sincerely,

(eusie.)

I say to him, "I want your sparkly eyes each time you say love me. I hope it won't disappear." He responds with his eyes crinkling at its end, "It won't." After a while, he asks, "Why? Did you do something wrong?" I grin at him. "I fell in love with someone else." He looks at me, and I can see his eyes sparkling, "Huh, okay."

He thought it was a joke, a.k.a. “One day, in November” (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

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.)

Here's to someone, pt. 2

Forward. You are a once again a shade of blue, but with a little bit of green. This time I came close in hue. Now I know how your depths go, so maybe drowning with you isn’t scary.

Rewind. But I still look away when you try to hold me.

Stop. But I really hope this is the last time. But maybe not.

(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.)

HALYANG

Dear (z        a),

Sometimes you remind me of eating sweet chocolates under a night full of stars near a breathtaking view of the sea with the wind flushing our cheeks red

Because I hope you’re like a movie where you’re a happy ending and a lovely soundtrack that’s like a lullaby

But you are cigarette ashes left unwanted near the window panes and an unheard song that will always be buried deep inside my head

Because you’re like an old piano playing sadly alone in a dark room a dangerous whirl of the wind as the light of day walks away

No, no, no this shouldn’t be like a love letter

Because that would mean kisses planted on pieces of paper hoping you’ll feel them under your fingertips or each letter and phrase etched like teardrops that won’t taste salty but bittersweet romance

No, no, no this shouldn’t be a love letter

Because you deserve more than that you deserve green lights on a busy day or full breakfast served on your bed and homemade cupcakes sweet as love you deserve sunrises and sunsets beautiful as you

Caught up like a fly on a spider web I now don’t know where this river of words lead to when all I want is to witness your glory and be a torch of hope to your seemingly never-ending dark roads

My friend,

When the night eats away your life I’ll breathe into you my soul when the day abandons you during your weakness even if I can’t, even if you don’t want me to I’ll shine on you

Yours sincerely,

(eusie.)

A little bit messy but it’s true

a.k.a. A Simple ‘How I Met You’

The floor made a sound to my feet’s kisses as I hurried through the quiet hallway.

                      There were whispers breaking out from these thin walls,                       and I felt my ears bleeding.

One second after reaching the corner, a pair of ocean blue eyes drowned me.

                      There was a series of a beat of drums,                       and then it felt as if it was raining.

Maybe his breathing hitched, and if it was my imagination that his eyes suddenly were burning like an ember,

                      I would never know.

No words were exchanged between us. But I felt like dancing to the music radiating from his sun-kissed skin.

                      That’s when I realized I was in trouble.

(eusie.)

a feeling: “nothing lost but something missing”

my throat tastes of rust and i'm drunk on my tears

my cries dance on the rooftop and i'm a high tide on this silent night

there is a rustling inside of me that doesn't stop

and sometimes it ends up as an aching a yearning for an unknown

this skin keeps on burning and i’m still hurting

but i don’t why

(eusie.)

i wanna be the one who you think of when you look at the moon or the shadow that you miss at night can i be the story behind the pieces of crumpled paper on your bedroom floor? i wanna be the cold beer that kiss you every time you feel out of breath

an excerpt from a poem i wrote and deleted pt. 2 (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.)

#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

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.)

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”

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.)

gb vkfckxjskhf ;isdujeidhfiLAdH FIEKJFif eihfow can't write anything ielhkdnfoia HGEJDFI J iejfei can't even think straight fheuwljfhdn ; idkhfnd no pun intended