One time, I was asked: how can it be possible to transmute pain into poetry?
I was stupefied by the question.
But it made me conceive.
How can one write such good poetry out of torment?
I have already found the answer to this question.
By the time of affliction and anguish of my affection,
I knew then that pens and papers are the only release I can ever manage.
I knew then that I cannot hurt back the person who inflicted me such pain.
And that for the life of me, I can just write until I am hurting no more.
To turn the man into a poetry while I am making myself believe that he merits it.
To be a writer of our love until the end of our story.
Here I am, wide awake. Awakened by the idea of losing you in the process. At times like this, I only wish to say things I wasn’t able to say when I had a chance. Had I known there wouldn’t be any chance to tell you, I would’ve said it. I would’ve told you but my heart was shattered long before I could speak. My heart’s lost to you. I could not believe I am still drawn to you like you never had me broken. This is the downside of things…
…when you love and you’re blinded with the idea of love.
I am writing this again in the midst of my sadness. I am thinking of you again. And you see, I just started this series in my blog and I can’t stop writing. I guess, we can relate this to the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s mainly the reason. I write about you because I love you. I write about you because I hate you. Right now, I am in love and in hate with you. But you are my totality. This blog is for you.
I am not certain how I am going to start this, but I’ll start anyway. I woke up disappointed and unhappy, and I have always been. That’s what I feel whenever I wake up without your messages on my inbox. I always sleep with the hope of waking up to your sweet messages. More than 24 hours, and I didn’t hear from you. I would’ve gone to the police station to report you are missing from me. But I figured out, you are not mine, there’s no reason I will lose you.