sinful memoirs

sola dosis facit venenum.

It has been a while ever since I wrote about you. 

Maybe it's too much, was I too indulged in the scent of you? Drowned in the presence of you? Possessed by who you are and what I could've been? What we could've been?

I guess it has been a while. They say that time helps the wounds of the past heal, rejuvinate the missing key pieces of one's heart and help it mend with the warmth of others, other people, but never you.

For the antidote to this helpless and torn soul is only you.

But I shall remember that everything is made out of poison, that the dose itself makes the poison.

That loving you is this bubbling rush of chemicals in my mind that has been simmering for far too long, overflowing in the process, creating breaches that reached slowly but surely into my heart, that sadly has been rotting for too long.

Darling, you're poison to me.

But you're the very first person to become the medicine to help me in this cruel, cruel world.

You helped me remember that my crooked teeth makes me different from others, that my small button nose is still pretty cute as said by you, that my weight should be the least of my priorities and I should focus more on important things.

And as much as I want to curse you for everything, for what we could've been, I want to thank you relentlessly. You've helped me grow as a person, for who I am now. 

You've helped me realise things in life, that not everything can be done in the way I would've liked. You're not the kind of piece that needs to be played in a certain dynamic, yet my heart yearns for you in fortissimo. Not the kind of plant that needs a lot of water to bloom, yet I seem to let you drown in my adoration.

Not the kind of person that loves other people, yet I seem to be a fool and continue to fall for you.

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just an exercise to shake this writer's block off of me. (and also maybe to help my heartbroken ass oop)