Fourier Series: An Almost-a-year Version
Fourier Series: An Almost-a-year Version
a.k.a. A Series of THIS IS FOR YOU’s
[11162013] Wow. Even the wind whispers your name.
[12012013] Sometimes, when I remember that you would never love me again, I remember to love you in silence.
[01192014] And so I wrote about you while half of my heart was aching.
[02262014] I asked yo to paint me once, but you chopped me into rhymes instead.
[03312014] I should have prepared myself for this. Now you’re stuck between my heartstrings.
[05202014] And I imagine that I can hug the moon, just as I imagine that I can hug you.
[05302014] You look at me and I swear, I almost felt your eyes bleed.
[06092014] I look at you and I swear, I almost felt the monster inside of me falling for you again.
[06172014] Please know that across the room, with 50 pairs of eyes, it’s still yours that I would want to stare at.
[07092014] I try to plaster your smile on my face just so I can fairly say that your smile is still mine.
[07172014] I’m still in love with you but I bet you don’t want me to be.
[07182014] And you’re not in love with me anymore because you don’t want yourself to be.
[09202014] When will I realize that sometimes, love is never having the one you want?
[11012014] Today is the day you died inside my heart. Hopefully.
(eusie.)
More Posts from Thsdfnngslnc and Others
“Sometimes I wonder / if I’m really the best / person for this body.”
— — John Elizabeth Stintzi, from “Salutations From the Storm,” Junebat
“You look at him like the story of Icarus is a lesson you’re never gonna learn. Oh, but maybe some things were just meant to burn.”
— like he’s the ocean and it’s a goddamn shame that you never learnt to swim | via p.d
This is not a poem but this quote reminds me of you. "She is so lost in her sadness that she has no idea how visible it is. I think I understand her—for a moment, I presume to understand her— but then, from within this sadness, she surprises me with a brief flash of determination. Bravery, even. " – David Levithan, Every Day // I can't promise you a poem or story, but someday I'll write about you. ~k
But why do I think that the quote reminds me of you, and not of myself? Haha. Thanks anyway, K
No need to rush though, keep writing about yourself first, and of course, about him. Haha
Old ones
Four years, and (almost probably) four months — later, used to be clear, now just more than a blur; twitching every time these eyes are caught, too many stories etched, and not even told; hushed pleas are not pleas at all, so why?; loading bullets to a gun, waiting for the blow, of a mention of a name, of anything at all…;
Muffled screams inside these (five) throats — saying, old ones sure are gold, but old ones rust; bombs threatening to fall, each close distance, when will they decide to bury these bones?;
But, so far (it’s alright), it’s alright
(eusie.)
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