magic spells
“I have something to tell you.”
“say something sensible, or my eyes will bleed if you keep telling lies.” she retorted, but no, I’ve never told you to read this blog either.
I wanted to tell myself when I heard that song, again and again, there would be magic spells to help me breathe through this heavy chest for days. but the spells chained myself to the promises you once gave as I held my breath to let you go. I wanted to tell myself that I cursed the wrong spells when you looked into my eyes the night we last met. so that I could have more time to let you drown in a mind you had never seen. You told me how aesthetically pleasing my mind was no matter how miserable it could be, and how you thought you were blessed enough to meet someone like me.
I hated to dispute, but I wasn’t miserable. you were nice, but I hated to impose.
I almost fell for your words the moment you opened your mouth, until I could certainly fathom (out) the abysmal effect they reflected on my skins down to every nerve and spine. it wasn’t stupid to deny that you were attracted for the truth you could never have. someone like me, you said. it was probably something you would say to someone you just met. you couldn’t love her for who she was that it hurt you to accept your flaws.
it was already midnight. I put the earphones away and slipped the iPod into my pocket, slowly lifting up my head as I saw you closed your eyes beside me. it was our song, our magic spells, our mad anthem yet we chose to pretend to feel pleased.
it’s hard to believe that I once promised to stay. it’s hard to tell whether the sarcasm has gone over my head or I’m simply not amused. it is hard to say. I live it, breathe it, think about it, and I’m fascinated by all it could’ve offered us, all it could’ve done for us.
certainly, to mix metaphors, a spell has been broken. above all reasons I hate you—hate is a strong word, it’s not something I could protect myself from—I think I have the guts to swallow the bitter pills little by little. I wasn’t sure how I could be such a fool to blame you for everything that I couldn’t possess.
everything is either yesterday or tomorrow. I’m not going to fight for what’s been left behind. I’m ready to give up; the same way you did so long ago.
“say something sensible, or my eyes will bleed if you keep telling lies.” she retorted, but no, I’ve never told you to read this blog either.
I wanted to tell myself when I heard that song, again and again, there would be magic spells to help me breathe through this heavy chest for days. but the spells chained myself to the promises you once gave as I held my breath to let you go. I wanted to tell myself that I cursed the wrong spells when you looked into my eyes the night we last met. so that I could have more time to let you drown in a mind you had never seen. You told me how aesthetically pleasing my mind was no matter how miserable it could be, and how you thought you were blessed enough to meet someone like me.
I hated to dispute, but I wasn’t miserable. you were nice, but I hated to impose.
I almost fell for your words the moment you opened your mouth, until I could certainly fathom (out) the abysmal effect they reflected on my skins down to every nerve and spine. it wasn’t stupid to deny that you were attracted for the truth you could never have. someone like me, you said. it was probably something you would say to someone you just met. you couldn’t love her for who she was that it hurt you to accept your flaws.
it was already midnight. I put the earphones away and slipped the iPod into my pocket, slowly lifting up my head as I saw you closed your eyes beside me. it was our song, our magic spells, our mad anthem yet we chose to pretend to feel pleased.
it’s hard to believe that I once promised to stay. it’s hard to tell whether the sarcasm has gone over my head or I’m simply not amused. it is hard to say. I live it, breathe it, think about it, and I’m fascinated by all it could’ve offered us, all it could’ve done for us.
certainly, to mix metaphors, a spell has been broken. above all reasons I hate you—hate is a strong word, it’s not something I could protect myself from—I think I have the guts to swallow the bitter pills little by little. I wasn’t sure how I could be such a fool to blame you for everything that I couldn’t possess.
everything is either yesterday or tomorrow. I’m not going to fight for what’s been left behind. I’m ready to give up; the same way you did so long ago.