(her)

i think my body’s an illusion

'cause whenever i'm with you it's like each thought evaporates

as my  body consumes you as though you're my everything;

and love, you are & that's the problem, since i only knew

this true, when i realized i loved starting fights with you.

and every word you spit at me, simply landed at my feet, 

though, i never knew why i picked them up as though

they were jewels, shoving them down my throat hoping

they'd hide until i could use them against you, yes,

my favorite pain of yours is when it's my willing with your doing.

but now, my heart's bleeding rubies and my hands are too

scarred from fighting with you to try and catch them; no,

i can't do this anymore-yet, i already tried replacing you

and he was too kind and there was not enough passion to make me avoid

thinking about you: it felt like cheating, and cheating on you

hurt me too.

slowly and gently that's how you broke me.

(him)

your nail scraps the skin along my backbone, and

darling, if there wasn't skin under your nails, perhaps,

i'd love it more; but no, the blood dripping down is

mine and yours alone, and all i want to  know is why,

we find (secret) joy in the way we scream and fight?

everything started as a light-hearted competition, then things

move too fast and our eyes blinded each other, and

i learned to realize there is such thing as too much passion

for it to mean anything (truly). & when (i overheard) you claim to

love  another, i left before you officially found the courage

to tell me; yes, i'd prove to you what you're missing: soon, you'd

want me to be your everything.

perhaps starting fights with your new lover was the reason

behind our disaster, but don't believe i'd ever tell you

as though it were truth; it's you to blame, for you can't have

two lovers, our life together shouldn't be a game. so as i

hold you in my arms and scream into your ear the facts about my

suffering and pain as you abused me, i'll even remind you of

the girl i (pretended to) fancy, as a way to create your jealousy.

i've loved you since i met you, shouldn't our cliche be working?

(them)

together and forever are defined different in each of our dictionaries,

and we both cried over each other and vain when the other

wanted more; yes, we were to blame behind each other's miseries

and bad comings: "i love you" was said far too many times yet

never enough. & even if we were both raised the same with love for

each other and growing up to become a part of one another, it's

our backgrounds and cultures and unknowings and dramatics and desires

that means we won't ever, be together, truly.

t̶i̶l̶ ̶d̶e̶a̶t̶h̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶u̶s̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶t̶  til death brings us unity

I tried my best not to fall in love with you,

but you broke in without warning.

I keep trying to put my shield back up,

but your smile makes me want to throw it into an abyss

and never pick it up again.

You make me weak, but I crave it.

It’s absurd.

Like I’m intentionally taking off all my armor

and handing my sword to you.

What do they call it... vulnerability?

I don’t like it.

You promise that you’ll never hurt me on purpose,

but isn’t that what they all say at love’s first bloom?

You say you can’t see life without me,

but those are the very words

that will prove you a liar at our breakup.

But, to tell the truth, I trust you.

I feel this connection to you.

This bond. It’s so strong.

I’m not afraid that we won’t work out.

I’m not scared that you’ll be unfaithful.

Surprisingly, I trust you with my sword.

I believe that you’ll keep your promise.

I don’t think you would ever harm me on purpose.

But, that’s what bothers me the most.

Before I can fully love you,

I need you to make an impossible promise.

You said you’d stay with me forever-

but your forever may not be my forever.

I need you to promise my forever,

but I know you can’t do that.

No one can.

So, I can’t love anyone.

I can’t love you.

But it’s too late.

I already do.

I love you so much that

even if you were

to stab me in the back

at this very moment,

it would surely hurt

a thousand times less

than the mere thought

of somebody else

snatching that sword

and stabbing you in the heart.

When given the choice,

I would gladly

stare into your beautiful eyes

as I die at your treacherous hands

than watch the light flicker out of them

as you die in my crestfallen arms.

I thought I would cry after being apart.

I thought I would regret what I did.

I thought I would miss you, even I said I didn't.

But,

I didn't cry.

I didn't regret what I did.

Frankly, I didn't miss you anymore .

Until now, I didn't realise it.

Yeah, I didn't realise loving you was worser than I could imagine.