Author: Vic

Elle Est Forte

Advertisements

Now, I’ve found another,

And no, he isn’t like you. Actually, he is very far from you. He likes coffee while you like milk. He enjoys the great outdoors while you enjoy staying in. You like summer but he prefers winter. I know that things like these are simple, but it just shows that even on simple things— he wasn’t you.

He bleached his hair blond and his jaws are chiseled, you have a pair of bright brown eyes and moulded collar bones— that’s how I physically know that he wasn’t you.

He genuinely loves me, while you… I think that only you can answer that question.

You two are very much at the opposite ends of the spectrum, but the thing is… I don’t get it.

I don’t get it how… when he holds my hand, it gives me flashbacks of us walking downtown in the middle of the night just to get ourselves fries and some liquor.

I don’t get how when he smiles at me— his damn smile, your face is the only face I could make out of.

I didn’t understand how everytime he kisses me, your lips are the only things I could taste.

I couldn’t cipher how everytime we touched, your hands, your voice, your movements, your everything are all I could think of.

You fucked me up so bad,
So bad that…
That it felt so good,
And I want to do it all again with you.

Even after you did me so dirty with just telling me that I was just “too much” and left me feeling like I was a liability.

Even after all the ways you’ve painted my skin shades of blue and purple.

Even after all the false hopes you’ve given me.

Even after the fallacy of your love.

Even after you chose her over me.

I still want— no, not want— need.
I still need you.

I need you to walk with me again in the middle of the night to get ourselves fries and share stories over bottles.

I need you to do that smile you always give me because it makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

I need you to kiss me again, because your tongue holds your lovely venom and I want you to intoxicate me again.

I need you to touch me again.

And I know that what I feel is wrong.

Because by now, I’ve found another,

And no, he isn’t like you—

But the letters written in every piece of my shattered heart spells a name— yours.

 

Written by: Mau Rem

Be like Belgian Chocolate Truffles – rich, delicious and exquisite. Decadent and aesthetically sumptuous on the outside, with a burst of surprise that explodes from the inside. And yes, a delight that not everyone can afford. A treat for those who truly deserves you.

– Luis Batchoy

The media puts a sad face on things, painting them as human tragedies. But the function of media is not to eliminate the evils of the world. They persuade us to accept those evils and get used to living with them.

– Waking Life, 2001