So much of the time that passed, I wasted remembering you
instead of trying to get you back.
I wrote poems and letters; all of which I never let you see.
I kept imagining how life could be with you,
or how long it would take you to come back.
But these were impossible thoughts because I never disclosed
the kinds of emotions coursing through my veins.
Now I've lost you among a crowded room, never to return again.
What I feel for you is being woven into my soul.
Stitched into intricate patterns of hopelessness and regrets.
I claw at my chest in attempt of ripping at the seams.
I poor alcohol down my throat in hopes that they will be dissolved, numbed, forgotten.
This feeling is a disease that has spread to each organ,
and I fear that my brain has also fallen victim.
It must've taken control now because not only have I been dreaming
about confessing everything to you;
But I'm actually here, in front of your house.
Before I have time to change my mind, you've opened the door.
Your dark eyes looking through me.
Before I even have a chance to speak, I see her standing at your side.
At that exact moment, I feel the thread unraveling from
the spool that's become my soul.
For the first time in my life I feel empty and full at the same time.
I realize that I didn't lose you, but I lost myself.
No longer among a crowd, I stand alone.
My soul no longer lost at sea, tangled and pulled by seaweed.
I'm in a port; in a place where I can call home.
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