I Am Autumn In A Tropical Country.

when my lips touch yours, i rest on your wine breath and you kiss me like it'll be a little death if we stop now. i am a fool for your touch, your subtle laugh when you playfully punch me in the heart. i am a stupid girl in a city that you love and i love the word love because it reminds me of you everytime i say it. Love. Love. I Anna you. Anna. Love. See?

okay but what if i tell you i really like watching you read under the sun or in the rain or all curled up in warm duvet in dark winters by the fire or on a train ride back home? what if i tell you i enjoy watching your eyebrows do their little dance when the author throws another plot twist at your face or the way you bite your lips because you really can't wait to know everything about that one character who really is the hero but isn't given enough credit? what if i tell you i see you when you try to hide behind your smile? what if i tell you it's a privilege to love you?

there are days when my name lingers on the inside of your mouth; too reluctant to be explicit, too obvious to be discreet.

and it makes both of us tiptoe around each other till you say, "one last time" and spend the night in my dad's t-shirt that i always forget to bring back home. we have a hard time returning things, you and i. we make a home out of borrowed items because the reality of owning something that's just ours is scary; we are not who we wanted to be and if any of us got any closer to what we prayed for, i am not sure we'll recognize what we see. right now, i see you with my blurry vision because i can't find my glasses again and you have no idea how to look for things. you once told me you only started missing your grandma after she was buried. you do that; confess bizarre things just after coming. i don't mind it but i think i love you only when you are falling asleep beside me. the rest of the time we spend together, i nurture a mild hatred towards you so that we don't promise each other a forever we will grow to resist. well, even our hypotheticals are a calculated risk. there are days when your name lingers on the roof of my mouth so i just shove my tongue down yours so that we can never talk about anything real; reality bites, i'm sure you've noticed.

Not everyone can afford this madness, i am not tethered to anything, loneliness is a side effect of self medicating,nothing good can come out of infinite apologies;

my tragedy is- my freedom is absolute; it's abandonment at its finest. I am everything my mother warned me not to be.

and it pisses me off to not have more than 24 hours in my day. i want to watch every movie that made you feel something, every song that gave you a serotonin boost, every book that broke to make you, every poem that made you fall in love a little more, every fuckin thing you ever laid your eyes on- i want to be a part of that. it pisses me off to not have known you when we both were kids: untainted, innocent, fragile but now that we are older, do you believe me?

I think the fast paced society we live in currently has brainwashed me into thinking i can upgrade myself and my life just as fast as when i restart my computer or phone. I have forgotten the natural cycles of life… how the moon takes her time to be full or how the crops take their time to grow their fruits. 

your parched roots are set on my wetland heart, i have fed you well after your teeth sunk into my skin and severed my arteries. there are no good endings.

grenade grudges blow up; and there are two casualties.

idk why this reminds me of the dreams where my lover and i are still together and then i wake up and feel a void so profound within me that it pins me down to my bed and i have to spend all my energy in just the act of getting off it and then spend the rest of the day as a corpse.

How many times do u think achilles woke in the middle of the night to turn over to touch patroclus and wonder why he was so cold before he realized

You ever see a pretty dress, a well-organised notebook, a peculiar balcony or read one line of poetry and get the overwhelming urge to reinvent yourself

my heart is fluent in a tongue my mind can't translate. so i lay still on my bed, experiencing a wildness that can breathe me back to life from beyond my grave. tonight i believe in spirits. maybe i am a ghost when i fall asleep; anything is possible this very moment because it is nothing like the one it succeeds nor like the one it will precede. the future hadn't been created when i wrote the last sentence and now i am in it. Ah, to be alive.