I once woke up pretty.
It was when I opened my eyes
and you were looking at me with love.
Your eyes were bright shade of brown,
so innocent and loving.
It held me like an expensive vase,
protectively, yet with adoration 
If care is just quantifiable,
I’d say I received seven hundred millions from you.
It just amazed me because no one gave me 
that much attention, that much love. 
But you.

And then one day,
you stopped looking at me.
You stopped talking to me.
You stopped showing, you stopped loving me.

And then I was ugly again.

When she couldn’t run,
she walks.

When she couldn’t speak,
she writes.

When she couldn’t sleep,
she spends the night trying.

When she couldn’t understand,
she leaves it ambiguous.

When an enemy asks for a fight,
she gives her one.

A girl is a girl,
Flesh and bone, hair and skin.

She is not a code to decipher,
she is still a person. With mystery.

You can’t ask her why she did
what she just did.

She always has reasons,
and those aren’t always accessible.

She will do what she wants to do
and she won’t care if it’ll make you wonder even more.

I always think about you
your snort before bursting into laughter
the scent of coffee after your morning jog
the never ending argument about the egg and the chicken.

They say that after three months
of crushing on someone,
when feeling never fades, skyrocketing instead,
it’s love already.

When I realized it before
I congratulated myself.
But now? I give my deepest 
condolences to myself.

Because it’s one year ago since you left,
and yet your marks are still all over my place.
I can still smell your scent 
as if my room contained some of it for future uses.

I can still hear the scratching of your pencil
against your paper whenever you’re sketching.
Or maybe I just can’t let go the memories
that makes me feel so so so alive.

But I did try to forget, once,
and it dawned on me that
I need to remember too,
I need to remember you.

Because whatever failure 
our relationship has become,
whatever toxic you brought in my life,

You’re still my first love.

Please make me understand why you need to leave me
when our fingers are perfect fit  as  we hold hands
and my brown eyes shine brighter when we kiss
and the sun seems beaming whenever we 
fight about the name of our future kids
and when your lips would curl up
after telling me how much you 
love me with your arms wide 
for emphasis. So maybe,
just maybe, I missed 
the note that says
all of these are
not enough
to make 
you

I ran home crying,
finally understanding.
Tearing open my clothes
and my skin,
hoping all the ghosts
of the boys I’ve hurt
would stop haunting me,
wishing them to get out of me
through the hole 
in the middle of my chest,
pierced by the only boy
I loved truly.

Making promises when you’re happy

is same to the promises you say when you are angry.

Only, the effects on the promisee are different.

Happy promises are wishes, Angry promises are curses.

While one is shaking in anticipation for the promise you never meant to say

the other one is dying to get away with the curse you’re casting.

It only proved that making promises when you’re emotional

is one of the wrongest thing people had discovered.

A message to the mother who wanted her daughter to be like me

I see the clear sky.

So clear that it might ripple

when an airplane dips to the clouds like birds on water.

I see the calm blue sea.

So calm that no one desires to breathe.

Daunted of the crease and disturbance they’ll make

to the quiet blanket of blue.

But the sky is trying hard

to gather the whitest of clouds

to deceive people that it is another bright day.

Did we see the dark clouds underneath the thick fog displayed

Threatening to cry?

We see the calm sea. We notice how it is serenely existing

when the rest of the world is full of violence and anger.

But did we notice the war of the ocean?

That in the surface she is so calm but below

she is lost, trying to determine

the wonders of her own body,

of her own soul.

If she has limits or Marianas Trench is just a myth?

If there are really monsters inside her or it’s just people’s talk?

Things, no matter how pleasing they are, have dark corners.

A girl says “I am where I’m supposed to be.”

Her hair is in a incorrigble tangle of mess of her past

so she decided to cut them short.

Her hands are full of thorns and splinters from her journeys

as if life thrusts them to her skin so she could show everyone

how she endured it all.

But did we see the lie on her eyes even before she spat the first word?

Did we see that with all she accomplished in life, they’re not making her happy?

She is screaming inside her and everyday too.

In front of the mirror telling herself how ugly she is.

And those eyes reminding her how she is seeing

and yet remained blind about the battle she’s fighting.

Her moves are impalpable, always tentative. Doubtful.

Her head are ducked everytime she is walking

as if she could push her head lower, she would.

Her laughs are so dark  that the shadows of all her nightmares

are rolling out of her tongue while she is laughing, it is scary.

She thinks that everything in the world is in their rightful place

except her existence.

And she’s the girl you want your daughter to change to.

So please do not hope your child to become another

person because you’ll never know what

that person has learned to show

and to hide.