6:11 PM, humid.

It was a mess.

There were thousands of words, spoken in various strings of melodies, all uttered together at once, creating a disturbing buzz in sync.

The small place filled with people passing by like a dark flash of rainbows, swiped the dusts off of the ground with their soles and heels as they move in a hurry, creating puffs of white among those tocks and thumps.

"Holy, and it's still Monday!" I lifted my chin up a little, only to see where the words came from.

Didn't figure it out in the end, but I answered him back in murmurs, "Same."

Amber

She was there, blocking the window, her silhouette looked like it was glowing while the sun behind her began to kiss the day goodbye. "Isn't it beautiful?" She asked. That was when I realized, she came to watch nothing.

She was the view.

The Fox and the Prince

So we didn't talk that night, we didn't want to make things worse than they already were. But among those comfortable silences, I knew. That I've tamed you and I'm forever responsible for what I've tamed.

I regret nothing.

A Girl Inside Her Box

I always say that I want a love that makes me feel like the Wonderland is brought right to my feet without the need to follow the White Rabbit down the hole, competing with the ticking clock.

I always say that I want to be grateful, the same way of how the lonely Fox felt when the Little Prince stayed, every day an inch closer than the day before until he was finally sure enough to tame his wild heart for him, opening the door and let him walk in.

But sometimes, when the stories end, the pages won't stop flipping back to where they started, and I can't do anything but to watch Alice waking up not knowing Wonderland exists, or the Fox wither along with the grass since the Little Prince never leave his tiny planet for his conceited Rose.

At times like this, I find myself stumbling against this weird feeling, a combination of a little sting from longing for something to hold onto so dearly, a little spark of excitement from wanting to try something new, and a little anxiety from not knowing what will I encounter next and whether or not the pain will worth it.

So when a new book appeared, I just kept staring at its blank pages, knowing whatever I write will end up the way I start writing it: A girl inside her box. 

Little did I know, that the story of Alice and the Fox have been completed, and though it's a sick cycle, Alice and the Fox did find their Wonderland- their Prince, and no matter how insanely tiring their journeys were, they would eventually meet their own version of happy ending in the end.

While my story, it never starts. I'm still a girl inside her box.

Repeating

One night I caught him smiling,

Before he asked me things I'd do with him.

I end up spending the night story-telling,

Until I close my eyes, still murmuring.

Though I could still hear him saying,

"If that was you asking,

What would I do till we're dying,

I'd only say three things

And that's loving you, laugh, and repeating,"

Effortless

Two straight lines:
Though only a milimeter away,
If they don't bother to change their ways,
They won't find each other even in another million days.

When...

When we have finally met,

I hope He'd give me that sudden longing,
like an irrational desire with bloods rushing,
Or my knees melting,
every time you're talking.

When we have finally met,
I hope He'd give you those funny feelings,
that make you remember,
The rapid beats in your chest, thinking,
"Oh dear, Lord, could this be her?"

When we have finally met,
I hope we could both be sure
That our desperate endeavors
Have finally come to an end, and ahead waiting, is our unpredictable future.

"But I haven't met you yet, and if I did, I'm not aware. I've been working on our future, crafting on my career. So when the day comes when I meet you, I could speak to your father. Communicate that I'm able to love and care for his daughter. Until then I can offer soulbeats and a letter. Painted inside my music, just wait 'till we see each other."

Gowe - Wait For You 

Twilight

Lace your fingers against mine, so that our hearts will burst out in colors. We'll paint the sky in twilight, as the sun sets and the bright stars follow.

She's...

She has a pair of cautious eyes, been awake since day one,

And an aware mind, more prepared than what lays behind her ribs was once,

Where the bruises stay, and wounds bleed at times.

All to welcome the night: the crescent moon and the stars that shine.

"Is she crying?"

It’s not about the darkness that creeps, but more to the silence that follows,

Because in silence she’d remember things she’s been trying to swallow,

Not him, or those memories he’s in,

It is the unrequited longing, and the pain it brings.

"Or is it raining?"

She’d spent hours watching the ceiling, thinking,

Of the what-if-s, if-only-s, how-s, why-s, all the wondering,

She'd let the questions hits her like an auto-replay, pictures of him would come and run,

But her eyes stay dry, she breathes normally, almost numb.

"There are clouds in her eyes,"

But at times, in one of those silences that accompany the night,

She’d let her cautiousness fades and awareness sleeps,

With eyes closed, falling tears, and a bleeding wound that kills.

"It’s falling, falling..."

A post inspired by a song

Me + You

Sometimes I think,

if we like too many common things,

we might end up liking each other.

But then he said,

"As much as I want, or had it in my dreams,

you've fell for him, and I can't forget about her."