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.
You only need one man to love you. But him to love you free like a wildfire, crazy like the moon, always like tomorrow, sudden like an inhale and overcoming like the tides. Only one man and all of this.
I just borrowed the quotes from goodreads.
I love that you talk to me about your disappointment and pain. I love it when you share me the things that hurts you and you close your eyes in my loving arms, cuddled like you need protection. There’s nothing like our love for each other. I love you when your sad. I love you when you’re happy. I love you all the time. I am giving you my kisses and hugs while I write and close this.
I am dating an alpha male who isn’t ashamed of showing weaknesses.
Today, I have loved you for 555 days.
I am sorry, it took me a while to figure that out. But yes. I have loved you since Summer of 2013. That was our birthday.
That was after we walked hand in hand by the beach in a moonlit sky. When we sat on a big rock looking at the horizon, hearing only our voices and the serene brutality of the ocean at night.
That was after we laughed at my craziness because I was so scared I won’t let go of your hand. That was after we ate dirty left overs and felt sorry we didn’t eat on time. That was after we slept together in a small tent and we just slept. That’s when I knew I can trust you.
Hun asked me a question yesterday and I didn’t know the answer. So I was going home yesterday and thought about it. This is still not the answer to his question because he was asking me when did we become official. And gosh, who knew?
I’m not sentimental–I’m as romantic as you are. The idea, you know,
is that the sentimental person thinks things will last–the romantic
person has a desperate confidence that they won’t.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
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.