Like the calm before the storm
Like the silence before the tsunami
Like the feeling when russian roulette spins
Like a rollercoaster after it touches the sky
Like a sandcastle when the tide is coming
Like a house of cards—
We’re in constant danger of collapse

On one Summer day
a girl was wearing her heart
on her sleeves

She planted her gardens;
watered them sincerely
day by day

With each day goes by,
some people sneak a peek
into her blossoming flowers

Yet, no one bothers
to step even further
beyond the facade

She couldn’t help but wonder
why do people tend to admire
the beauty from the outside?

While the true beauty,
lies from within—
as it’s never about what it seems

And she thought,
even when her garden is flawed
it is at least, well taken care of

Substance over form
depth over surface

Layers by layers—
see me raw

I. Intro

"I'm as afraid; as exposed; as vulnerable, as you are right now," I remember saying it on the day you were born.

Falling in love scares me to death, yet I'm so glad I kept it open. It’s probably one of the bravest thing one could do—fully aware you are walking on eggshells and you could have your heart torn into pieces.

I guess love is the hope you feel in your chest when you meet someone and you just know, in a bizarre and all-consuming way, that they are going to mean a lot to you, that you are going to clear a little corner of your soul out for them.

Love is a mess—yes, but my God, is it ever a beautiful one.

//

II. Interlude

I still remember the day I met you for the first time again after a decade passed by. You smiled at me that day, and the way you called me by my childhood name sounds so familiar—it is almost as if it never left your lips. You spell it fluently as if you recite it every day until the day we’d finally meet again.

“You were my first love,” you whispered to me tenderly, as I replied the very same to you.

Like a fairytale told in every classic stories, you came into my life out of thin air. I should’ve known by then that if something was too good to be true, it’s probably not true—or perhaps I was too naive to admit.

//

III. Encore

“We were in love and we were happy,” is the sentence I repeatedly mumbled to you as I hold back the scream off my lungs.

With all the sweet nothing, betrayal was something I did not see coming.

In the end, love alone is not enough.

You broke my heart when all I did was loving you.

I sip my morning coffee religiously
but lately my two shots doesn't feel
as bitter as it used to be

Perhaps that's the thing about life;
you get used to bitterness so much that
you can no longer distinguish which one is which
since everything tastes all the same

Or perhaps, the thought of you crossed my mind
and all the pain suddenly comes rushing back
as if I am being tormented for the sins I didn't commit

My wounds are burning; they’re still half-open
almost to the point it's unbearable for me to mend
had I known the bruise would left me scars this deep
I would have walked the opposite direction that day

Opportunity knocks you once
but certainly not twice

So this is it—the final closure
of what I would forever call
an almost;
a road not taken
a missed connection;
a wasted second chance;

We may have everything
but never time

I wish one day
I'd be lucky enough
to meet someone
who speaks my language
so I don't have to spend
a lifetime
translating my soul