Cleaning up the mess you left.

When you left without a word, I thought it was my destiny. For someone who obsesses a lot on goodbyes, it felt like it was what I deserved – a no goodbye leaving. Thinking this, I quickly locked your room without giving a second glance. I had no energy to look at the mess you’d created, the papers on the floor, the clothes on the bed, the broken pieces of my heart all over.

For as long as I could, I went on with my life as if nothing happened. Nobody knew about us to begin with, we were the secret stories our friends hushed over the movie. So it wasn’t that hard. I even carried on sitting across the table from you in the cafeteria and pretended not to notice your occasional glances.

“Are you okay?” you once cornered in the corridor to ask.
“Why do you ask?” I questioned you instead.
“I have never been better,” I cut you off and walked away, holding myself together more than ever.

I read a lot during that time. About men. About women. About relationships that lasted and the ones that never did. I also read about heartbreaks. About being strong. About not letting the ones who walked away to have the power to control you. I read books. I read articles. I read poems like my life depended on it. And each of them told me to be strong, to realize that people come and go, what matters is me.

So, every time you sat across me in the cafeteria, or beside me during the lectures, or in the same group as me for an assignment, I recited the stories and the poems to myself again and again so as not to open up to you. Not to let the comfort of your warm body melt me. Not to let you take a peek of my milky skin longing for your touch or how dry my mouth has been, thirsty for the taste of your lips. It took everything in me to not to let you see how much you hurt me. That if you must or by chance you did see me hurting with anger and sadness, I wanted you to see it wasn’t because of you but the homesickness I always felt once in a while when the tides are fuller or because of my unconceived child slowly leaving my body or because someone, somewhere was hurting and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Of course I slipped, like any human does. There were times when I got drunk and kissed you or if I remember correctly, I became so ruthless that you left the party without a word, a goodbye. Or that one time, when I refused to even say hello. Otherwise, I was good at pretending to be just fine. I remember how quickly we went back to become the perfect lab partners we were a year ago. I went on as if you and I never happened; like as if you never mattered that much.

But today, I decided to open up the room you left in hurry. There are spider webs all over the wall and layers of dust everywhere.Today, I told myself I am ready to clean the mess you left. I am ready to flood the room with my tears if they hadn’t dried up already after being held in every time they’d wanted to rain before. Today, I collect the pieces you left scattered and today, I want to put everything together. Some pieces still have sharp edges, the memories pinch me as if it was just yesterday, like our kiss under the full moon. And by deciding to finally mourn for the heart you left broken, I hope that I am on my way to healing, that I will be able to finally let go of your grasp, fully.


Sweet Talk.

Validate me with your sweet talk. Compliment on how my curls are working for me, each strand spreading out across my chest. Comment on my black dress hugging my body and its delicate cream flower patterns. On my red lips and my dangling golden leaved earrings. On how they make you feel, every inch of my skin, as my cold winter hands, slips into yours.

Lie to me on how you’ve never met anyone else, who would laugh with you in your jokes – on death, pain and sickness. Who could discuss with you on whether darkness is absence of the light or shadow is the darkest dark there is. On whether electron behaves like a particle or a wave (it behaves as both duh!). On the dominant genes you have (tallness, and curly hair are dominant by the way; not sure about your goofy smile).

Whisper to me how I excite you just by my laugh. How you can’t wait to dig inside of me, deeper than the darkest ocean. Explore every inch of my skin, vaster than the infinite universe. Love me like no man has ever done, nor will they ever do.

Validate me with your sweet talk.

For tonight, I will drink every word from your mouth as if they were sips of elixir I need to survive. I will savor your every move, from your hands to your eyes, undressing me inside-out. On this cold lonely night when there is a fire burning inside of me, of anger and guilt and hatred, I will take anything you give. Because right now,  for me, five seconds of the superficial bliss is better than spending a night full of self loathe.



It’s okay to miss you.

I never thought I would cry about you. I never thought that I would miss you so much that I would break down in the middle of the road. I never thought that unable to hold my tears any longer but not wanting to cause any trouble, I would walk away from everyone else and find a corner for myself to cry, saying I’m sorry.

I don’t know to whom was I asking for forgiveness, was it you or was it me? Or was it no one exactly? But I was sorry. For not having enough courage to tell you that I loved you when I had time. For not making more memories, that I would have passed down to my kids one day, of a man who shaped me for who I am. For not laughing with you on your silly jokes and for not sharing my own sillier ones.

I never thought I would cry about you. But I did. Second time was past midnight, when I was all prepared to go back home. I never thought I would remember that you ended up being the one who waited for me to be back home. You used to call me when I was on my way to check where I had reached so that you could be home when I was home. It wasn’t always like this. You were never home but you were learning and you were trying and you were mending. And now, there would never be you to go back home to.

I never thought I would cry about you. That I would miss you. That I would notice you were gone again. But I did. And after crying for an hour or more, when my tears dried up like a monsoon flood, I was thankful and happy. Because crying for you meant that I missed you. Missing you meant that I had loved you. I never fully accepted my love for you and I was finally allowing myself to do that.

I never thought I would cry about you but I did. And that’s all that matters for now.

People – IV.

Some people think you represent light. Your laughter lightens up their day, they say. You somehow are always joking around, you are always full of hopes – of finding love and being happy, of chasing stars and turning dreams into reality.

Some people think you are the night. They would come to you on a full moon night but will stay away during the new moon. They think you are always sad; that you are the epitome of suffering; that you suffer too much – inside your head and outside. That you are always full of angst, anger and rants.

But your people are the ones who see that you live in the edge of darkness and the light. No, they know that there are more layers than just day and night. That you are the various shades of the sky in twilight. That you are sorted in your chaos. That you are full of life, because you’ve known death so well. That you are always laughing around because you live with sadness in your sleeve.

Some people think you represent happiness. Others think you are always sad. But your people knows that you represent ups and downs of life. And that, like life, you always move on.



Know that you can break my heart in millions of ways than it had been broken before. And the wounds you would leave behind would be so deep that it will take forever for the blood to clot. And I will have scars all over my soul, of cracks you left behind. Know that I was strong when those boys broke my heart. That I knew I would recover, it would just take some time. That I always heal. That I always move on. But you will forever be etched in my heart like a tattoo and the ghosts of your memories will forever haunt be like a childhood dream. Know that you leaving is something I prepare myself everyday for. Know that you leaving will still affect me anyway, in far worse ways that we can ever imagine. People leave or they die, I always say but know that you are not those regular people in my life. You were someone I would never risk having this close that we can listen each other breathing. You were always supposed to be far enough not to know hear the sound of our hearts skipping. Know that you are near now, and as much as I don’t want to burden you about you being home, but you are closer to it. Know that you were my friend first, the one I turned to in the middle of the night when my PMS is kicking in unknowingly. So I would rant and whine and say stupid things like I hate everyone but know that I never mean that. Yes, I hate people but you were never among those regular ones. Know that you were my friend first, someone I have always felt comfortable sharing my deepest secrets I never dared to share with anyone. You may not remember them and it’s okay. But just know that I will be lost completely if I lose you. Know that I will be empty if you run out. Know that none of those boys could ever break me but I would forever be broken if you decide to leave.

Know that you can break my heart in millions ways that it ever has been broken. Know that I just hope you won’t do it.