“You Look At Him Like The Story Of Icarus Is A Lesson You’re Never Gonna Learn. Oh, But Maybe Some

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.)

Never say never

There is a spot on the ceiling of my room that resembles the scar you have on your right arm, and lately, it became one of the things I forbid myself to look at every time I sleep at night. Just like the paintings you once gave to me that even if most of them were portraits of me, I put them away. Because I couldn’t look at myself smiling knowing you were the reason. And through every one of it that I see, I could hear your voice saying my name. (I don’t know if I am crazy enough to encounter these, but I guess I still love you the same.)

I remember that day you said you would never leave. It was the middle of autumn when everything was tinted orange and leaves kept on falling. Your smile was so bright and your eyes were full of promises I thought you would fulfill. But I swear you were like the sunset to every tiring day that I have had. You were beautiful as it was, beautiful enough to make me cry because I had you. And beautiful enough to make me cry because I lost you, for I believed in what you said that you were never going to walk away. It was when the sun began to meet the moon that one winter night. You held me closer to your broad chest. I felt your warmth beneath me, and your heartbeat lulled me to sleep with a smile on my face. Your breath roaming around my hair was nevertheless one of the many things I have always cherished. And the silence and the space between our bodies were probably one of the best things that I’ll remember even they were just in-between’s or nothing to you.

I kept on holding on to that time between the summer solstice when you said that you’ll never let me go. You hoisted me on your back, and placed my thighs on the sides of your waist. But you couldn’t bear my weight so we crashed down on the sand and we kept on laughing until we have to catch our breaths. (Sigh.)

Maybe, I shouldn’t have eaten everything that was in front of me just because I thought it was all good. Or just because I thought it’ll last forever inside our hearts as we’ll hold on to every moment we have had every day to keep us alive. But how could I have known, right? Yet, I wish you could’ve just said the truth, because to be honest, when you said you were never going to leave, you were never going to walk away, or you were never going let me go, I think that you never really meant any of them. I realized it just now.

Because I believed you said you loved me but then you just said you never did. And how I wish I could say to you personally that you should never use the word “never” if you know that what you will always mean is the otherwise. 

( chloe.  & eusie. )

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

dear winter

dear winter,

just this time, will you please stop making snowflakes? i sneeze a little too often than before. do not attempt to dance outside my windows, i will never come out and watch you. please be gone as soon as possible, i can never get pass through your time.

just this time, i want you to not kill me again because every year when you are here, you kiss me with your snowflakes and i feel bliss even if i know you’re also kissing someone else. you whisper sweet nothings against my windows and every morning i wake up and see them as lyrics of a daylight lullaby; i smile even if i know in the evening, you’ll still give me nightmares. you control me and poison me to just give my every minute to you when you are here.

just this time, please stop… because just when everything comes to the most freezing moments of mine, you leave and i die; i don’t want that to happen again.

so please, just this time…

just this time… i want you to go away.

i am restraining myself on missing you as i run out of breathe each day. come back when i am when i want to feel frozen.

(eusie.)

Fourier Series: An Almost-a-year Version

a.k.a. A Series of THIS IS FOR YOU’s

[11162013] Wow. Even the wind whispers your name.

[12012013] Sometimes, when I remember that you would never love me again, I remember to love you in silence.

[01192014] And so I wrote about you while half of my heart was aching.

[02262014] I asked yo to paint me once, but you chopped me into rhymes instead.

[03312014] I should have prepared myself for this. Now you’re stuck between my heartstrings.

[05202014] And I imagine that I can hug the moon, just as I imagine that I can hug you.

[05302014] You look at me and I swear, I almost felt your eyes bleed.

[06092014] I look at you and I swear, I almost felt the monster inside of me falling for you again.

[06172014] Please know that across the room, with 50 pairs of eyes, it’s still yours that I would want to stare at.

[07092014] I try to plaster your smile on my face just so I can fairly say that your smile is still mine.

[07172014] I’m still in love with you but I bet you don’t want me to be.

[07182014] And you’re not in love with me anymore because you don’t want yourself to be.

[09202014] When will I realize that sometimes, love is never having the one you want?

[11012014] Today is the day you died inside my heart. Hopefully.

(eusie.)

an interview with my neighbor

part 2: macy edwards-johansson

i knocked on the door with a force that could break my knuckles as if my heart isn't enough with all its pieces crumbled to the tiles of the doorway

please don't let this one break me again

macy wasn't always home she looks for it in certain places and from a number of persons i wouldn't want to know

"home shouldn't be about the t.v. going nuts as you rest on your couch after a long day “so you sleep instead and it should be okay “home shouldn't be being aware of the bloody smoke coming from your cigarette that will blind you from living “but you choose to give in anyway because damn it, you're already dead from all these shit happening in your life “home should be sitting on the bottom of stairs with no one to calm you down “but the walls lull to you that it's okay to cry so you cry “home, to me, is when you want to be fucked up “so your home fucks you up, but in the end, it stays beside you, unbroken and full to cope up with your brokenness and emptiness"

she wants to be loved so fucking bad i don’t know if she’ll ever get to find someone who’ll make her feel home

macy didn't respond on the first to three banging on the door

i hoped she's somewhere inside sleeping peacefully and not anywhere hugging her fingers on bottle necks, getting damn wasted

i shouted her name and then her house shrieked her door slowly danced open, revealing macy with droopy eyes

before i can even drop a phrase, she whispered gently — and i saw the universe glowing in her eyes —

“i finally found my home”

and that was all i needed for today

(eusie.)

Old ones

Four years, and (almost probably) four months           — later,          used to be clear, now just more than a blur;          twitching every time these eyes are caught,          too many stories etched, and not even told;          hushed pleas are not pleas at all, so why?;          loading bullets to a gun, waiting for the blow,          of a mention of a name, of anything at all…;

Muffled screams inside these (five) throats          — saying,          old ones sure are gold, but old ones rust;          bombs threatening to fall, each close distance,          when will they decide to bury these bones?;

But, so far (it’s alright), it’s alright

(eusie.)

N.J.R.

please don't be another mistake. or another regret. or another memory i would want to erase.

(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.)

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.)