Living in a glassbowl…

It’s been a thousand years I’ve known you, a thousand years of looking through your eyes and seeing a life that is deeply wanted but was never meant to be mine. Sinking from this enthralled abyss, I found both torment and peace, a reason to excuse myself from feeling and a reason to curse myself for creating a crossroad that I myself cannot decipher.

I just want to close my eyes.

Martyrdom is noble not to the self but to imminent havoc that takes pleasure in crushing the soul. It feeds it, slowly and unnoticeably, saving space for rancor that will soon chase every bit of what you tried to build… a haven of ghosts, impassable to your feelings and impenetrable to reason. Whatever’s made of sand is still sand. It shatters at the attempt of holding it, falters when you play with your hands, blinds when examined with light and drifts when you try to embrace it. It’s sand and nothing but sand. These tears are caused by its glit. If time be turned towards the moments that I forged, I would save myself from my disguised indecisions. I should’ve faced hatred when it came. Little did I know that the will to burry it was the same thing that planted it. Now I have to taste the bitter fruit of my own generosity. I should’ve loved myself more than what “myself” had… “once had”…

Just take me away.

So I wouldn’t have to face the consequences of my faithlessness. I have suffered enough guilt Let me sleep. Let it be a time for me to dwindle. I have loved you and now I’m thinking of ways on how to push through. I long for you but more than anything, I long for my self. Where is the girl that once caused your smiles, once held you out of your afflicted world, showered you with seraphic songs, gave you all?

Lost.

If I have the chance to construct once again, I’ll make sure that whatever it is that’ll sprout from my creativity shall stand amidst the ravaging waves of the seas, shelter me from my uncertainties while uncertainty itself molds me. Should love be precise or should it remain imperceptible? Will I ever find the motivation to love anew? Will it be right to mend… preserve and love again… him again? When will it be right? Or should I let his face fade with the wind and in the long run… my mind, my heart…