Broken Figures

There's always something special about her smiles. Not the kind of smiles usually described in books, you know - the sweet smiles, the ones with matching beaming eyes, the kind of smiles that would make guys drool.

No, in fact, her smiles were nothing like those. 

Her smiles were more like old photographs helplessly burning in bright red flames. Although it hurts to see them burn, you can't help but watch it turn to ashes anyway.

It was more like a grimace, actually. She smiled like she owned every heartache in the world. Which was in fact the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in decades. 

Her smiles were not a sign of joy, rather a mere reflection of pain. What an irony, I thought.

She just proved me that not all things needed to be happy for it to be beautiful. And oh God, how beautiful she was.

In that moment I've realized I've learned to love sad things because of her. We're all a little wrecked sometimes, and that's fine. Because it feels human. In a world ruled by material things, how often do you even feel human anymore? 

That's the time when I told her somethings are made broken, and they're beautiful that way.

"Like my smiles?", she asked.

"Like your soul," I confirmed.

Au Revoir

Goodbye, my dearest.

May you grow in to something far greater than this turmoil of a world, may you fill in the empty spaces left in your beautiful heart, and may you thrive for all that you deserve in this lifetime.

Please do so, leave what’s meant to be left behind. Erase the marks of your stained past, and finally – for once, let your mistakes be a blessing to your life. For one day, all these will make sense. All the heartaches of today, all the chaos in your wonderful mind - will eventually connect. Not in the sense that you've expected, but somehow more than what your mind could ever predict.

In this letter lies my farewell, in hopes that you may find whatever it is that may fulfill your spirit.

Adieu, my love.

And may we meet again, someday in God’s will; I will be waiting, more than excited to see what a wonderful person you have become.

Ps:

Prove to them me my love; that something beautiful ever comes out of the wrecked. 

An Epilogue

I write of you in paragraphs instead of sentences, of thousands of letters instead of a few. Each dull mornings and lousy afternoons, I write of you to fill in the spaces left by your absence. Perhaps, this is the closest I can get to ever holding you again. This is, at least, the only way I know to make the distance between us seem a little lesser. 

I take a piece of what's left of us, and mold it in to writing. Each words entangled in our senseless heartbreaks, each stanza longing for the love that was once here. My sentences - they seem to know you very well, like they're constructed only by your being, and by yours alone. My words though lacking, are all too familiar with the beauty in your visage. They know you better than anybody else, they keep you until the very end. 

Darling, how my sonnets sing to you and you alone. No line had ever slipped away to someone else, and even if one may had - I offer the thirteen left to you. My rhymes, how they crave for your warmth, your touch, your soul. They long for you in between my melancholy nights and wished for your return. 

But my love, no exact amount of poetry or prose, can nearly sum up all my heart-aching thoughts of you. 

Downfall

You say you love me.

And yes, I know you do.

With all sincerity and trust, I believe you my love. 

Because I know that you love me.

In my happiest times and in my loveliest form - you love me.

In my most beautiful smiles and in between my heartfelt laughters - you love me.

The way I glimmer like sunshine, the way I bring forth warmth like the mornings of summer, I am certain that you love me.

In my best form and all the good things found in me. You love me for all the reasons I am to be loved.

I know so, because loving someone for the better side of them is really that simple.

What's hard is loving me when I'm crying at my bathroom floor at 2 am, screaming so loud that no sound came out, because everything came crashing down on me at once.

You say you love me.

And yes darling, you do.

But I'm afraid,

You can't say the same

Now that I'm on my downfall.

Eventide

She was beautiful, like that of a horizon, specially when the sun leans down to kiss the edge of the sea. T'was a lovely romance, they'd say; 'bout a bright ball of yellow light who fell in love with all the beauties and dangers of the deep blue water. The sun would go down to meet the sea, even if it means its own death. And every day he would do this, every twilight and every sunset, he would constantly die for the one he loves. It's a wonderful piece of art, really. Only I can't seem to guess how many waking hours will it take before you realize that I am the sun, you are my sea. 

When wrong elements collide

Lips that die 
when they kissed
Flesh that burned
when they touched
Eyes that bleed
with tears every night
Souls that trembled
with every lie

Hearts that ached
to be set free
Hope that vanished
like dust in wind
Smiles that fade
a little too soon
Jokes that meant
a little half truth

Questions that got
a simple yes or no
Arms that always
need to let go
Wounds that never
seemed to heal
"I miss you's" that never
seemed to be real

I can't help wonder
how long will it take
Before you realize
We're 2 wrong elements
who've collided

not by chance,

not by choice,

but by mistake.