Browse Tag by creative writing
365, Prose, Writings

This is how I’d fallen out of love of him

This is how I’d fallen out of love of him:

I didn’t. It just that one day I woke up, and I just.. I just didn’t feel anything for him. Not love, not like, not hate, nor anger, not even sadness or disappointment, just.. nothing. Like my heart entered a sudden oblivion, and it just forgot. It forgot to remember to care for him or to think of him, and in a blink of an eye, everything about him, every feelings I associated with him is erased, and he didn’t matter anymore. Like he never really mattered at all.

And I’m okay with it. I mean, it’s a lot like looking at a blank grey canvas, what do you suppose to feel about it? Nothing, right? Nothing and just okay.

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #33

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365, Prose, Writings

Not all who wander are lost

Your soul feels so much like home, and when I met you, I finally understood what they mean when they say, ‘Not all who wander are lost’.

For I always find myself wandering back in your arms.

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365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

What hurts the most

It hurts, isn’t it? To receive from someone else the same love and attention you so much crave from him.

But that’s not what hurts the most.

To see him giving that same love and attention you want from him to someone else over and over again. To know that he’s fully capable to show you that love, but he just didn’t choose you, and he keep on not choosing you.

I think, that’s what hurts the most.

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #31

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365, Poetry, Writings

Sing me a song

Sing me a lullaby,
Of words too deep all I could do is feel,
Sing me songs from the ancient moon,
Of how it loves the sea and its tides,
And all the creatures underneath it.
Sing me the songs of the wolves,
Of their whisperings and howlings,
Of their pain and anguish,
And of how they love the moon so much,
All they could do is yearn,
And hate its moonlight glow.
Or better yet,
Sing me the songs of the winds,
Whispering beyond what you can hear,
And how they carry each wishes, unheard prayers, and unsung love notes,
To the hearts of the right ones
When the time is right.

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365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

Be still my treacherous heart

You asked me one time what do I need. And I almost said it to you right there and then. That what I need most is the power not to break, the power not to break under pressure, under love, under your heated gaze. The power not to break whenever you walk away from me, or whenever you’re near me, or whenever you hurt me with your words and with your stupid actions and inactions. The power to walk away from you and never look back. The power to never fall in your arms again every time you came back.

The power to still this treasonous, treacherous heart of mine.

To say I don’t love you anymore and mean it this time.

//excerpts from a book i’ll never write #30

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365, Poetry, Writings

Can we stay here for a while?

Can we stay here for a while,
Where you hold my hand,
And I hold my breath,
And I fight back tears as I hold back time
From separating us forever apart?

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365, Poetry, Writings

Walking away

Why is it whenever you walk out of the door,
my heart breaks into tiny little pieces,
my energy dipping way colder
than the antarctic ocean,
and I get this gnawing feeling,
at the pit of my stomach,
telling me that it is really me,
and my life,
that you’re walking out of.

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365, Prose, Writings

Why do you write sad things?

“Why do you write sad things?” is one of the hardest questions I’ve always been asked.

How could I answer that? How could I tell you that all I have is sadness, and all I can share to the world is sadness? How could I tell you that every time I get a little glimpse of happiness, I always just save it for myself, keeping it close to my heart, memorizing every details and feelings, and not writing it down because writing it down feels a lot like giving it away, like I am letting that little happiness go. How could I tell you that I write sad things to purge it out from my system? That it is impossible to write sad things without sadness consuming you to the core to the point that all you can do is to bleed it out on the paper. How could I tell you that? That I write sad things to let it out, hoping that one day it would never come back, that maybe one day, I will finally succeed in writing all my sadness away.

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365, Prose, Writings

We are the girls who kiss wolves

We are the girls who kiss wolves, who train foxes hoping we could tame their hearts, hoping we could train them not to leave us, we are the girls who kiss imperfections that cannot be salvage, hoping that our goodness is enough to shed light to darkest and dirtiest part of a human soul. We are the girls who played with fire, burn our tongues and lungs, hoping that the smoke of our ashes will serve as a sign that even when you turn into dust and ash, your cries and pleas will still rise up to the heavens, a ghost of a smoke rising above the forest, guiding the lost souls in the right direction. We are the girls who sing with the wind and dance to a rhythm no one else could hear, who let dangers swirl on our palm,  seep on our veins, and swim on our bloodstreams.

We are the girls who wouldn’t kiss frogs hoping they would turn into a prince, because we are the girls who make changes to this upside down world.

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365, Prose, Writings

Friends with benefits

“Why are you settling with him? He isn’t good for you. He’s just using you.”

I sighed. “Who says I’m settling? It isn’t because I’m still seeing him means I’m settling. You think I’m the one in love in this situation? You think that just because a girl is hooking up with a guy means she’s settling? Can it be the other way around? I definitely don’t want to hear any wedding bells with him, if that’s what you mean. He’s not the type. So relax. Stop your stigma. I’m just having my cake, and eating it too.”

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #27

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365, Prose, Writings

Sleeping beauty

She is the kind of beauty that gently falls on your lips like snowflakes softly falling to the ground, silent, subtle, fragile to touch, but beautiful nonetheless. She is made of winter, thunderstorms, and scars, yet she possesses the gentlest touch for the broken souls. When you meet her, you probably won’t notice her right away, for hers is the beauty that whispers ever so subtly to your soul, capturing your heart and soul first before entrancing your eyes.

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365, Poetry, Writings

Running away

I need to get away
before you see all that I am
and all that I’ve been through

I bet it just a matter of time
before you realize
what a mess I put myself through

And I never wanted the time to come
when I will see disappointment and disgust
reflected in your eyes

So let me run away for good now
before I get too deep
and trust you too real

And allow me to be
the one who walks away
because I won’t ever manage if it’s you.

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//an old old piece of mine. 😊 Merry Christmas! And Happy Holidays! 😘

365, Poetry, Writings

Teardrops

I wish one day
I’ll be able to sleep at night
without my pillows
getting drench with tears.

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365, Prose, Writings

Sad stories

I swear she tried, she tried to dry her tears, she tried to stop it from flowing to her cheeks, she tried to stop her tears from wetting the pages she writes on, she tried to write happy stories and to think happy thoughts and to anticipate a happy future that may or may not await her. Yet she still couldn’t help but cry each night. Can you hear her sobbing at night when the world is asleep and at peace? She writes the saddest stories, but even the saddest of the saddest stories she had written couldn’t compare to how her heart is breaking right now, in real life.

And I swear she tried her best to rewrite this story, her story, but her tears had already smudged her words, clouded her vision, ruined her hope.

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