“you’re the most interesting girl I know. No other girl could make tea drinking more interesting than you do.” But if you really knew me, you’d be outraged at the strength I use to bite on my straws, at how little I coo over cats and dogs the way other girls do, and how I no longer smell of passion fruit & Japanese cherry blossoms like I used to. And if you really knew me, you’d ponder the ways I crave to love more than just one person at a time, laugh along with those that torment me with their assumptions of my being slow-witted, and the truth in which my brain cranks in only accelerations that makes words not come out right. If you knew me, you’d decide to forfeit all charms that could be attributed to a lonely Aquarius and wonder how someone with such an admirable lifestyle would want to leave it all behind her. If you knew me, you’d want to take me away from all the hurt like the others have tried to and abandon me in my neurosis because it is too exhausting not to. If you really knew me, you’d make the same choice to leave and leave me no choice but to let my brain continue to accelerate at the speed it does before you tell me again, that I am interesting at all, and that I could make tea drinking any more interesting than any other girl that you know.

The exposure of a polaroid photograph reminds me to expose & unleash the truth to all of the rivers and terrains that exist. I am caught in between, lost in the canyons. “Psychopath, werewolf, the closest thing to human divinity,” they’d say. Well, which is it? Will you expose yourself or should I? Do you really want me or do you want to relive and experiment with your nightmares all over again? If you didn’t know by now, I promise I will keep it from you for as long as I can. Because I can. You are sick, and they want to heal you. They all believe that they can help you. No one can save you until you expose it all. One day you will, and I will be the last one standing, giving you the standing ovation you’d been meaning to ask of me. You know I’m the only one left who will stay, if you would just ask. Just ask.

I lose to her, each and every time. She announces aloud the way her fractured bones and bruised limbs make her stronger, stronger, stronger. How badly I want to (first) take her hand and (foremost) take form of whatever solace her announcements are intended to chase after. Princesses need to be princesses and violet blue roses never die. She tells me she has mastered the formula of letting go, but I am still here painting her love notes in water-colour.

How could I not, when once upon a time, we set sail to a mountain together, where I brought her to the dimmest part of the woods only to hear her howl & she knew it. “I gotta go,” says the temptress who knows what she wants. She makes a beeline for her car when nine o’clock strikes, where not even the allure of the moonlight could hold her from leaving. She denies seeing the same stars in the sky as I do, simply because too often does she make a run for it before you know it. Maybe she only drives fast to drive away those she is finished with. Maybe I should have seen it coming.

Months on end go by without sound, and she returns as they do in the silent films. I look her in the eye & admit I owed her one from prior, in which I return by way of a favour at the cost of my Self. “some things you just have to put back down”. I am always losing. “We had a good run,” she says, and I lose again. And I keep losing to her, and I may lose my self entirely, but perhaps this is my own road to letting go. To lose to her, and to lose her, by losing it all.

who am i to assume he can’t bring to the table new thrills?

rainy days come as they desire, and from the corner of your eye, you will see him running through the blazing storm to find you shelter – where you can tend to your floral ideas of kissing under an overworking umbrella.

are cloudy thoughts better than clear ones?

you’ve done it before and you will do it again. breathe in deep, because more often than we’d like, the jagged truth hangs on a mere string. dangling politely over electronic waves delivering empty hellos & goodbyes, this time could be the last time. will you still shout your love for her into the ocean once you find out it’s built upon somebody else’s cotton candy sunsets?

what do you really want to be remembered by?

it is twenty-seventeen and how much i love you is proven by my speed-of-receiving-your- message. “you rank this high in my heart & mind – i’ll show you in how quickly i choose to hear from you”. the second checkmark ticks, and our love abruptly turns blue. i want to keep all the words. vindictive, witty, poetic & encouraging, i want it all and i will have it all. but then again, do we really even know each other?

is that, dare i say, censorship before me?

lead me to new brainwaves, i beg of you. tape my mouth shut to strengthen my diplomacy; if loyalty is what you wish for then i am your girl. but you’ll always want more, more, more &you’ll let it slide this time because it’s not somebody else you’d rather have sobbing in hiding, but you’ll ask for more, and hope for less, because everything comes full circle & one day you won’t need us anymore.