More of a letter but in a form of a poem,
if heartbreak could be felt, it'd be in shape of a tear.
Once we've cried and it's all done and gone,
the pain won't last and we don't laugh at the same jokes.
I deleted the songs I heard when I met you
off from my music player, my mind and heart.
My heart keeps on repeating it, my mind hates it,
my style of writing changed because perhaps I've changed.
Perhaps I'd hold a grudge and say that
everything that happened was your entire fault but no,
I wouldn't because I knew this would happen
right from the very beginning.
Only I was a foolish, gullible child to risk
my time, my rights, my love and sight
on the person that deserves nothing close.

What I loved about her:
maybe her distinguishable face,
that contagious, beautiful smile,
the strong voice never ridding itself of the strength
and that personality—maybe not.
I didn't really like your personality; you're elusive,
mysterious, cautious, dangerous, scary,
and yet you're just so weak in front of my eyes.
I remember the distant memories in time to come,
I close my eyes and they race to my heart.
The hurt renews and it lessens every time,
now as I hear your voice it's music to my ears.
When I see your face, I'm numb to the pain
and the smile I used to see, now I'm laughing it all away.
You were the one who taught me,
that I should be smiling, be happy, being positive.
Now I am, and I'm turning against you—why?

If you want to know why,
just look back to what you did to me.
Just because you're older, you think you can
smash my heart into pieces and expect me to pick it up.
Now I look at you, you're nothing but a spoilt person.
I used to glance, blushing with love,
now I glare, raging with hatred—it's my fault
that I ever met a person like you, my wrong. My fault,
and I promise to never make such a big mistake again.
Meeting you was a big mistake,
loving you was a sin so wrong and now, hating on you…
let's say it's to repent for my sins. Sorry but now,
you mean nothing to me, my once pretty, pretty 'love'.


October 6, 2011
the last rose petal was carried away by the wind
my love for you was taken away by hatred.
farewell, love?