Days

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Let’s get kfc?

Let’s go out someday. Like old times.

Salutations

I’m writing this post because I noticed there was a surged of visitors lately. Not sure why but I’d like to thank everyone who enjoyed my work.

Thank you for your time however small it is.

Have a nice day. 🙂

Stranger

Stranger,
Hear my plea,
Like you,
I sometimes think,
About me,

Stranger,
Don’t leave,
Don’t you see,
That I’m just another,
Stranger who’s not meant to be,

Stranger,
Who reminds me,
Of the one,
The way,
It once was,
The way we used to be,

Stranger,
Come back,
To me.

Flowers Underneath Your Pillow

Wounds

There are wounds that do not bleed blood,

But instead it seeped ambition, innocence, sanity, and dreams,
Wounds that drained the now empty circuits of my brain,
Wounds that slowly seeped from within, incited confusion, headache, insomnia, pain,
Wounds that neither god nor men, 
Could possibly mend,
Wounds that takes away your emotions,
Your sight, your breath, your hearing,
Wounds that killed you but keeps you living,
Kept you alive to feel as every echo bounces around your now empty shell,
Bellowing in the narrow halls of your consciousness,
As it subjugates your life in a living hell,

These wounds are mine,
To be taken to my deathbed,
To be felt, and never to be left behind.

Insomnia

Here I lay awake,
Drown by my own thoughts,
Tribulations and past mistakes,
Here I lay awake,
In my unsettled state,
Seeping consciousness,
Relying on these pills I take,
Here I lay awake,
Breathing,
Hoping each breath,
The last one I’ll ever make.

Shadows

Like the silhouette that hangs before the night light,
The thought of you wanes back and forth,
It rumbles,
It rocks,
It exist,
And it persists,
All night.

You, syff

I miss not bringing my toothbrush when we travel,
Because I know you’d bring yours,
And I’d save an extra hoodie or sweater,
Because you’d always forgot yours in a rush,
So I kept one for you to wear later,
I miss how you’d find me a crowd,
Because my head screams out loud,
My stature and my height,
Could never escape your sight,
I miss being lost with you,
Because neither of us planned,
And we ended circling around like idiots,
I miss thrift shopping,
When we’d pick out crazy outfits, and ended up trying,
Foolishly wearing them, rolling over laughing,
I miss eating with you in the middle of nowhere,
Appealing to your crazy appetite,
And finishing leftovers,
When you complained your jeans getting too tight,
I miss walking on the sidewalk with you,
And having our night talk,
After hours, after dinner,
Without pillows nor any specific thoughts,
Just dry tarmac and hot weather,
I miss walking,
And offering to carry you on my back,
Because you weight just like peanuts,
I miss wishing of the future,
Because of distance, we hoped of a something better,
We promised of something together,
Sadly, it never worked out.

Here I am, cowardly enough to write these,
Because I lack any courage, to say it out loud.

-syff, the beautiful you.

Faith

Take me away from the gods above,
If they teach me to discriminate,
To differentiate,
To hate,
But never to love,

Take me away from the gods above,
If they deny me of my neighbors,
Simply because of their faith,
Of what they whispers before bed,
And before a meal,
What kind of god is that,
That requires me, the creation,
For him to be real.

Take me away from the gods above,
That had created heaven,
But chose to test the people,
To gain attention,
That chose to leave us,
Abandoned and forsaken,
To live on this wretched earth,
From the consummation of our parents,
To pain of birth,
Why had they created,
Chaos,
Disguised as human,
To give free will,
Free speech,
But separated, men and women,

Take me away from the gods above,
Because from what I’ve seen,
I’d rather believe in chance,
Than something planned in advance.

Fake love, is love still

“Why were you in love with me?” He wondered. His morning coffee sat quietly beside his toast, unstirred and unflavoured.

“I honestly don’t know.” She replied. “I feel that, maybe ‘we’ could’ve worked out.”

“But we both knew how it would end. We knew we weren’t made for it. Life is too easy for it to be just that.” He replied. “So, why did you stay?”

“Because helping you, in a way, helped me too.” She sat there, hand on her cup of coffee, sipping it, letting the slightly hot liquid warms up her cold body.

“Why? What good could you possibly gain by trying?” The crumbs of his toast fell as he munches them down one by one.

She put down her coffee and wondered off to the distance for a moment, before looking back into his eyes. The ones she spent countless hours staring into before. “Catharsis.”

“Maybe.” She continued. “Maybe, all I wanted was to love and be loved. And to say sweet encouragement and words of wisdom, hoping one day I too would be as strong and as brave as the person I led people to believe.”

“To you, I was just an emotional wreck that needed help is it?” He questioned.
“Yes. You could say.”
He took his time, thinking on what to say next. The morning clock ticked away in anticipation, without the need of any permission nor recognition, time moved on.

“It’s kind of funny when I think back about it.” He finally spoke up. “In a way, I too was using you.”

“I wanted to have someone to tell me that it was going to be okay, that life isn’t as hard as I make it out to be, and that maybe it will work out in the end.” He continued. “And you fit the description.”
“So, what were ‘we’?” She asked.
Sitting there within the roadside café amidst the morning crowd, the two stood among the others. A couple of misfits, or rather, a misfit couple.

“Therapy.” He answered.

“It’s not your fault I’m like this. And it’s not mine either that you’re the way you are. It’s just that sad people attract one another.” He explained.

She went on, ignoring her sandwich on the table. “But still, what are the chances of it working out? It’s a big world out there, I’m sure at least 1% of them would’ve worked out.”

“Sadly, my dear, we’re not that 1%. We’re the rest of the 99% losers. We’re the ones who think love alone could fix our problems but was too oblivious to the fact that ‘love’ too was a part of the problem.”

“We were too busy playing ‘love’ that we forgot to grow up.” He continued as he finished the rest of his tasteless coffee. “Two broken hearts won’t fix a single one.”

“So, why did we bother at all?” She asked, staring onto him, looking for an answer.

“Because fake love, is love still.”