Someday, maybe a little while from now, we'll remember why we seperated.

When you and I awoke:

Disappearing without explanation is cause for resentment.

You had me at the palm of your hand, ignored without reason

-I wondered for so long,

"What did I do?"

But no, the real thought should  have been, "what  had happened?", not whose fault it had been.

I spent so much time questioning how I had caused the end of something that quite honestly, never even was.

As I laid alone at night, questioning what I had done to push you away, I'd failed to realize that I am not the default option.

These mental movies playing in subdued technicolor;
An entrapment that seduces my entire consciousness like a glimmering silverware under the sun.
It has kept me enthralled, convinced me to strip myself out of my worn out realism,
Then lead me through a journey that is neither truth nor a dream.
These constructed storylines which overpower my will to resist,
Leaving me no choice but to surrender upon its bittersweet, artificial melody.
How tempting and dangerously self-depreciating it is to let myself be consumed by an illusion's thorn-filled embrace,
Emphasizing in persistent bold letters the cruel honesty that it projects.

Before I left you alone, I placed an infinity of kisses on your collarbone.
You showed me what it felt like to be in a relationship and still feel lonely.
You showed me what it felt like to be in a room full of people bursting out in laughter and still feel alone.
The problem now is that I can’t stop reminiscing on what could’ve been.
It’s clear that I have never ever met someone like you.
It has been a while but I still feel the same way about you.
Maybe I need to let you know, maybe I need to let you go.
I still want to bury my lips in the curves of your neck.
You showed me what it felt like to be in a relationship and still feel lonely.
Now I’m running into the arms of temporary lovers asking for them to hold me.
If you were someone else I’d be tempted to say that the best part of was always you.
But unfortunately it’s not, the love I have for myself is all that I’ve got.
It's all I really need and it’s reiterated by the way my ink starts to bleed.
You found a home inside my heart and no matter what I do, I can never manage to get you to move out.
But if you’re staying a while longer just know that your rent’s due.
You can’t keep living here because a new tenant will be moving in soon.

Walking in circles
In my lonely room,
Talking to shadows
As if they were blooms
And blossoms of love;
Old friends and lovers
Cousins and brothers.

Running in circles
Through my many pasts;
Forgotten or misbegotten
Some fleeting some lasted.
Replaying old movies
That played inside my head
Of people and places
And things that were said.

Walking in circles
Through the phases of life.
Trying not to remember
Times that cut like a knife,
Trying instead to rewrite
My history to come out right
Where nobody was unhappy
And there were no fights.

Stumbling in circles
As my body was getting old,
Too hot in summer
And, in winter, always cold.
But still I remember
My wonderful cast of stars
That have come and gone
Through my life thus far.

When the dead come back to me
It’s because I can’t forget
The gifts they gave me, and
Ones I haven’t gotten yet.
It’s not like I’m having tea with
Some undead moldy skeleton.
Just listen closely and you will
Understand it all when I am done.

As it’s not all Disney roses
When these spirits come to call.
I think they come back to haunt
Whenever they feel the call.
It runs about fifty-fifty most times
Between the horrors and the glories.
Everyone from my past it seems
Wants to share with me their stories.

Some of them are active now
And alive as they can be
But they left me and went away
So, they are as dead to me.
They come to make me question
Issues of what’s wrong and right
When the dead come to talk
With me alone, in dark of night.

I used to fret and wring my hands
And try to decipher their signs.
But now I accept it as what it is
And today I feel it’s all just fine.
I am sure it is worth more to me
To understand what has gone by.
So when the dead come back to me
I have begun to understand why.

I miss the challenge
Someone to take me on
I miss heat- not warmth
Heat.
I miss wit and snark and sharp
Maybe even some deceit.
I miss lust.
I miss the simpler uncertainty.
Of whether or not they'd love me.
I miss the butter and the flies and the challenge of someone who dared to challenge me.
I miss maturity. I miss a man who would always be older than me.
I miss the hand I couldn't see leading me to what was never meant to be.
I miss being right when I wasn't supposed to be. I miss him.
I miss the power.
I miss the struggle.
I miss being small, trying to be tall.
I miss proving the excellence of everything I did.
I miss the praise from the audience.
I miss the ability to choose.
The ability to lose.
I miss the crew that always knew I was the ****. Hit or miss.
I miss the fire and the unguilty ability to tell a faceless name "no".

But I can't anymore. Because he's good for me.
I have to say yes.

I remember this time of the day
In the front yard where it's almost dusk
Swarms of mosquitoes buzzing in
We need to close the windows hurriedly
Or else they'll prey on us tonight

Then Nanay, with her broom without a stick
Will burn the dry leaves on the ground
Which she gathered together with
Abandoned paper planes and plastic kites
As the sun slowly disappears from our sight

I keep you as a friend yet we’ve broken up
I get all choked up with every new post of
You and your fiancé in my news feed
My feelings are chicken feed and it’s all my fault
I know I have to stop
But I can’t bring myself to let go of this insatiable need to still need you
I feel if I let go I'll lose you
And all the memories of me and you
Despite how we ended
When I think about us I’m a lush
Because what we had was special
But...
While I sit reminiscing on what used to be
You’re busy moving forward with your life
Focusing on your new wife and being happy

Stories you told, they stuck with me
In my field trips through your memories
I loved to learn the places you'd been.

Places unlike anything I've seen,
Brought to life through storytelling
From France to the Indies; the top of Mount Washington.  

Now today, times change and pass you by
Like cars on the street at night
Yet you never seem to mind.

Your stories that never grow old,
In the aged leather bindings of your soul
Will rest peacefully between you and me.

Time it seems, it learns to dream
When the world keeps on turning
As the pages in your book are running out of ink.

Time it seems, has been kind to me
As I've keep my youth steadily
In kind with the rhyme and the reason
Of your bones.

Time it seems, will catch up to me
Some point before eternity,
In kind, with the rhyme and the reason,
Of your bones.