&&.
i wrote everything about us—about you.
i wrote a story of how we first met in social media. i couldn't imagine that your simple “hi” can make my heart bloom like how it used to. i just wished that the “hi” you planted in my heart wouldn't destroy my ribcage when it started to grow.
i also wrote about the moment you told me that my words were creating parties in your tummy and my poems were starting to be stuck in your skin like some constellation in a tattoo. believe me when i tell you that those made my cheeks turn tomatoes.
and what was the saddest part of it? i can only write about you, i can only write a book all about you, i can only see you on papers, because that's it, you just exist on papers and not on my side—you merely don't exist. you're just some character i found in my hopeful imagination.
YOU ARE READING
Proses with its Roses
PoetryWe all have pain inside us, inside those softhearted yet tough hearts and it's on us on how to express it, how to ease it, and how to control it. Painters grab their brushes to express. Singers grab their microphones to express. Dancers grab their s...
