“How is it that we mourn the shattered pieces of the love we willingly broke?”

This is face blindness, but not really it. Among all the faces I see, I could only see yours.

I’ve always had a fear of endings, but it comes as relief to me that among all the dying things, I am one too.

Where once there were a few houses between us, now there are seas.

I close my eyes and I see you. I open them, and I’m blind.

You float underneath my eyelids – a dream I never seem to get enough of.

Of all the lies I’ve lived, and all the lies I’ve been told, the lies I told myself hurt the most.

If there’s anything I’ve learnt so far, it’s that to love others, you should give them space to breathe.

And it scares me that if I ever get my wings, I might not know where to fly to.

I am grieving a connection that never really happened, a dance of souls that only lasted one day.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy for you to break me, you can always tear the pages of an open book.

When she laughs, her soul floats outside her body and I can touch it.

I wish I can still hold your hand like I used to. I wish you were still alive.

You touch me and a thousand different particles come alive beneath my skin.

I shed skin after skin, seeking my true colors, expecting a rainbow or a stripe of black, but all I get are maps of red. We are all human underneath.

Sometimes I feel like I’m only a drop in your ocean and the waves will soon carry me away.

It was always your dreams we focused on, you never thought I’d have dreams too.

We spent a life time loving, to write an ode to heartbreak in the end.

You are a nameless prayer, my heart begs to be brought again to existence.

They said everything I lost will come back to me. I said -everything I’ve lost is too lost to ever come back to Me.

My love isn’t love. It is devotion. I don’t fall in love, I shatter. I don’t love, I worship.

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

You are the oxygen and I’m dying to breathe.

Dreams are built, and hearts are broken, by things that are said, but not meant.

It is not your job to fix people. I know your heart aches to see people you love in pain. But it is not your job to make their burden your own – that is not your path.