Hearing that certain music from you, stings.
How you sang your lyrics, sinks me like Titanic.
At the back of my mind, those words were once my uncertainties.
You knew it from the start, yet your kindness secured my anxiety.
From then on, honesty was build between two parties.
An unexpected friendship that I value and honor,
Suddenly got deserted by an unknown factor.
I keep wondering what went wrong,
A lot of probabilities and maybes, sometimes made me crazy as I go on.
Why do I keep on looking for something that wants to keep on missing?
Maybe I have troubles with attachments,
Wanting to keep the connection I made out of different moments.
It hurts everytime that voice hints the feeling of abandonment.
I know that change is constant, but so as commitment.
I’m not asking you to stay for long,
Yet meeting you halfway resonated a feeling that you immediately wanted to leave me and go.
I miss the feeling that I can be myself with you,
I don’t know what I did, to feel alienated by you.
Unspoken anchored words reminded me of my place,
I wanted to stay, but lingered feelings made me realize that this is just a phase.
Respecting the songs that you sang for me,
I rearrange my instrument to meet your beat, tempo, and harmony.
Singing beside you inspires me to sing better than I used to be,
Yet by sharing the same microphone, our voices fails to compliment one another’s melody.
A couple of heavy strungs vibrated my strings,
Together with shards of glass pierced through my skin.
Accepted apologies can’t heal reopened wounds instantly.
Piled in front of me are a lot of what and why’s that I’m ashamed to ask from you.
What kind of love tells you that something is wrong with you?
Why did you have to sing my uncertainties back to me?
What did I do, to be hurt by you?
Why did I allowed myself to be vulnerable around you?
YOU ARE READING
Under the Stars I Write
Poetry[A COLLECTION OF RANDOMNESS AND POETRY] "Under the stars I write, Under the moon so bright. In the darkness of my heart, I hold on to the light. Thoughts in my head written in paper and pen. Voiceless words composed of memories by fate." - Hanna...
