What was that thing you saw in me that you never wanted to stop waiting over and over again.
I told you once, twice, thrice; and here you are now, still not giving up.
Was it because of the way my eyes glisten when they stares at you?
Or the way my voice sounds calming whilst speaking of your beauty?
Was it the words, the poetries I wrote in different colors?
The happy thoughts I shared with you?
The attitude of a strong woman?
The way I care for myself?
Or maybe its the other way around—
Maybe because of my pale lifeless eyes?
Or the sadness I speak, the truth I feared?
Was it the broken poetries I wrote in black?
The thoughts I shared with you?
The fear that consumed me?
The way how selfish I am to myself?
Because that is me,
That is who I am.
I never had those beautiful characteristics,
Only an ugly canvass.
Why aren't you not giving up?
You better have reasons—
You want to fix me?
You want me to see my beauty?
You want me to save my life?
You want me to see who I really am,
That this life I have is worth living?
Tell me everything.
But never tell me that you are just drowned by your fantasy.
Because this is who I am.
Not a figment of imagination, but a pure mess.
