sometimes, i wonder— how does it feel not to write about you?
i could never count how many times i found myself thinking how to keep you in different ways that i can even find my palms seeking for your shadow and i can’t help but to let my bleeding hands touch the darkness inside and press them on my chest. i wanted to keep you in any ways i can do for you etched something in me making me like the idea to meet you again for the first time and i’m hoping by then, the idea of losing you will no longer hurt this much. i could never count how many times i mistook you as the air i breathe for i found you living in every lines i could ever create, and with that, i know i started to see you everywhere. i let you dance in between of my rhymes and metaphors but i am still uncertain if you’re with your heartbeats or you’re just loving the way i play with words. i could never count how many times i let my heart bleeds and taste its magic by feeling that you’re still here beside me—breathing, existing, living. i made you live in words because i know, writing is the only way i could have you.
i could never count how many times i found myself on sleepless nights remembering things no longer here; romanticizing every heartaches by naming it as love, and letting you creep along with my poetry that every time i’ll hide your name on it, i will see it as the most beautiful thing that my hands could ever write. i could never count how many times i found myself wondering why i am afraid to let you go when you’ve never been mine to hold to; why i can still find myself loving it every time i see a part of you in my poems even if i know it’ll just make you harder to forget, and the taste of heartbreak will forever remain. i could never count the nights i swear to keep weaving words just to save what’s left between us but for so many times, i can also find myself wondering why there’s this line that lies between us that i couldn’t cross for i can hear it says what we were, and all the words i have inside that i keep on refusing to exhale. i keep on telling myself i write about you to keep you eternal but i guess, i’m still that afraid to finally write why and how i’ll never have you. i’m still afraid to close the chapter by turning you into a farewell and a poem that i would name as forgotten.
i’m afraid to finally write about it and find myself saying: never again. i’m afraid to finally feel nothing and can’t even be able to move fingers just to write your name. i am afraid that someday i will find you non-existing. that i will realize—
i can’t make you stay, even in my poems.
— 02:02 |. sin, how to keep you forever?
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»» photo (without the words in it) taken from Pinterest
