IG : Amamiya_shion9

“I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am.” - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Run before everything around you starts to ignite —  no, stop and take the match before it turns into fire.

January 18, 2014 (eusie.)

to the boy who’s in love with the sun

to the boy who’s in love with the sun (and who also seems to be alike with the moon),

one

i am not a dreamer. i do not wish upon stars. they will suck every letter of our dreamy words. they let us taste lies from every glimmer they give for our eyes to hold. they look down on us, laughing. they watch us as our grounds shake, as our souls skin out every last smile we own. i am not a dreamer. i am not hopeful. i do not hope for impossible truths. i do not hope for palpable things to become blur. because reality is right in front of us, taking out every pain in between our eyes for us to feel, and we already can’t do anything about it, but to just accept and take everything. what’s on the tip our tongues are mantras we need to swallow. we need to stop hoping. we need to.

two

this is what i always thought.

three

i am not a dreamer. at least, long ago.

four

once, i found myself staring at the night sky and it was full of stars — full of hope like ones you see on the eyes of people in love. back then i thought, falling in love is an endless prayer of “please, please, please”. falling in love is picking up pieces that were already thrown away but keeping them in hopes of making them fit into the incomplete you. falling in love is wishing upon stars and endlessly hoping for nothing. and i said, i don’t want to fall in love.

five

but then one day, i saw him.

six

he was standing right in front of me, and the day was sunny. and i thought, he was reality’s human form. he was exactly the reason why people bow down to their knees every single night just to whisper wishful things, like for him to realize that the stars have always been singing for them like church bells. like his dreams finally came true and he was too blind to feel them running around him. he was someone i knew i shouldn't get my hopes up for or waste any time fancying of. but i couldn't help but to dream of his voice even if i haven’t heard it yet. i couldn't stop to want him to look at my way every time i feel him passing through the hallways of my heart. i couldn't stop imagining things. i don’t know if he can feel my eyes as they try to hug him every time i look at him from afar. his hair was the night sky, starless because they were showered onto every smile he gives.

seven

and i thought, maybe he’s in love with the sun for his cheeks are rosy pink, yet he was pale as the moon. and i wish that i used to be in love with him. because i want to give up for i realized my love would eventually go nowhere and burn out. but for the mean time, i want to know his name.

eight

i hope you know you’re the one i’m talking about.

nine

to the boy who’s in love with the sun, tell me your name.

from the girl who once told you to the stars (and who also mentioned you in her every prayer) yet she'll soon stop on wishing, hoping, dreaming and loving

(eusie.)

The deafening silence of winter melodies

Sometimes, the smell of the morning just pushes me to wonder, like how I need to think about everything — all at once — in a moment, and sometimes, the afternoon symphonies tend to capture every little thing inside my head, and eat them all up, until the thoughts of how alone I am in my life are left inside. Then it just starts to get worse because they howl and cry like they’re lost, or like they want to get out, and that’s why I’m wide awake every night. It’s just... so deafening to listen to this silence; it’s so tiring and I can’t help but to silently scream at the top of my lungs — to scream silently inside my heart. I’m exhausted and maybe, I won’t survive this winter and its melody that kills me and haunts me to think of everything I ever loved:

Like how I used to love every detail of the night, how the pale glow of the moon and stars reflect in your eyes; how the wind slowly brush against my cheeks while we lie side by side on my bed; how we serenade by the sounds made by the crickets and other insects outside while we whisper I love you to each other. Like how I loved you, and how I can still remember the every detail of your face, how the mole in your left eyelid look when your eyes are closed in your sleep; how the fringes of your hair fall on your face after you slide your fingers through your head while thinking; how your nose turns to pink when you’re about to sneeze; how the corners of your lips move when you smile; how your breathe reach me every time you talk; and how your cheeks look like they’re burning after I kiss you.

Now, the only thing I love about the night is the darkness in it, and how stars to me, are just shattered promises. When they die they become black holes they consume everything within their reach and I seemed to have become consumed with one.

I can’t stop thinking if everything you said to me was just a lie and if the sparkle in your eyes every time I look at them is just an imagination of mine. I can’t stop thinking of what you really feel about me, of what do you think about when we were together, and of the possibility that when I was in your care, it killed you. I can’t stop thinking if my words ever reached you, and if our words wished upon a shooting star, one night, were just my own wishes.

My once filled dream of our future together had died along with that shooting star. They died right before my very eyes, and all I could do is watch. My forever turned into ashes of piled burnt promises, they stayed under my bed and sprawl into my feet at night; they haunt and broke me over and over. Our laughter and melodies had become a deafening silence that only I could hear. Words left unsaid and rotting inside my head, thoughts about our love lost had caused turmoil of dilemma in my head for those cold winter nights, and the last time that I have seen your face, was the time I know, I had lost you because you had chosen her instead of me. Betrayals and regrets are eating me alive—they cut through my skin and sting into my flesh. I need a way out, I need to escape and stop this excruciating pain.

So on the night of your wedding day, I went outside. On the cold icy night, I wandered and tried to lose you in my head once more. I went to the park, where we used to sit for hours every Friday afternoon. I brought out the blade that I had bought on the day you left without bidding a proper goodbye. I have been thinking about this since day one, and now I know, I have found my way out of this misery you have caused. The pale white snow, soon become stained with a red pigment coming from my wrist and then I knew, this will end soon.

( ayen. & eusie. )

tell me if it doesn't suffocate you when you see his lips dance with someone else's

i’m telling you, i know the feeling (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.)

e.e. cummings, from “because it’s Spring” (in 73 Poems), Complete Poems: 1904-1962

#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

Unexpectedly

too many poems too many unrequited love too many broken hearts and too many bruises and unwanted scars

too many persons oblivious to what they did

to gain existence in another world

a world called poetry

(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.)