i.
it’s still five am in the morning and you’re already walking on the quiet road, blotches of tears dirtying your fresh-waked face. you can only hear your choked sobs bubbling up your throat and your heart feels heavier somehow, knowing you’re alone not only in your home, but also in the streets. under the lively lamps, under the dying moon, you walked and walked and walked until the tears dry, until the sun graces you.
a new day approaches.
ii.
it’s midnight and your timeline is still busy. new photos, new videos, new parties from places far away from your home. it’s midnight and you touch your belly, thinking there would be a warm hand resting there. it’s midnight and you hear voices speaking out sentences you loved from the novels you read. it’s midnight and you leave your tears on your pillow, like cinderella leaving her shoe on the stair, but unlike her, you’re stuck in this perpetual hope for someone to sweep you off your feet and heal the scars across your skin, your heart, your ribs.
in your dreams, you’re simply happy.
iii.
you wonder sometimes, how it would feel like to be wanted. to be called fondly without ghosts of fear hanging above your head. to be embraced tightly, as if the idea of letting go is off the books. to exist with such in someone’s eyes.
but how could you when you still have tears blinding your vision? are you even able to love someone like how you constructed the way they love you in your own head, when you still root yourself to your safe place and drink your own tears?
how?
