November 12, 2013

Music Volume 8.1.12.1

a.k.a. The eight tracks of my life when it comes to you

(1) A recurring dream: you say to me, “It’s always been you. It’ll always be you.” Sometimes, with your mouth; soft bubbles came out of those lips, eyes shaking as if you were afraid that I won’t ever get to know; so I believed it was true. Sometimes, in a note; written in a hurry, tugging all of my fingers and pressing it onto me like a sacred promise; so I believed it won’t be broken.

(2) But I wake up, breathless and sweating, soulless and aching, and... you weren’t here.

(3) When I sit down for a minute and ponder about my decisions, I come back to those times when we have conversations past midnight. I would remember you looking at me like I were a secret you still kept, still deciding if you would let go or keep hold of. Those gentle touches in the soft light, more tender than everything illuminated by the moon.

(4) I wish I would have done something. Anything.

(5) Yet, you’re still a smoke that keeps on dancing through my nostrils I am yet to get out of my system.

(6) I used to love the first few times when you starred in my dreams. But ever since you closed your eyes each time I start to tremble out your name from my lips, I stopped wondering about the crinkles by your eyes. I stopped trying to miss the way you laugh, stopped trying to make you laugh. I stopped whispering prayers. I stopped altogether.

(7) At some nights, I don’t want to sleep anymore; I’m tired of sleeping. I’ll keep having dreams of you anyway. And I’ll keep having dreams of you anyway even if I’m awake.

(8) A recurring thought: I’ll ask you, “Will I keep holding on? Should I still love you?” I’ll ask you if ever get the chance.

two hearts tiptoeing across shreds of an old vase of red roses

eles (eusie.)

B.raV.O.

Dear (b    n),

You’re: another shade of perfect that won’t match with my skin; a walking perfect disaster (a soft, soft sin).

You’re: a little too late — but still a wonderful feel — of autumn bliss; another fairytale worth a poisoned apple kiss.

You’re: pale, yet rosy and gray; midnight rumblings of ‘stay stay stay.’

You’re: a loss of breath; a wrong kind of fret.

You’re: my wrong-timing, my would-have, my what-if; my probably, my maybe.

Yours,

(eusie.)

If Somin wasn’t the female lead in this drama, I wouldn’t have watched it. Felt like a disappointment when I reached the end. Kinda regretting now. Project Wolf Hunting, come to me fast. And another drama for Somin, please

Itagaki Rihito 板垣李光人 (2021) Hair, makeup & styling by Takae Kamikawa

Unexpectedly

too many poems too many unrequited love too many broken hearts and too many bruises and unwanted scars

too many persons oblivious to what they did

to gain existence in another world

a world called poetry

(eusie.)

braces in and out & ellipsis

a.k.a. yes, it’s from me. but don’t worry, i don’t

this is how i think it is: the sound between your sketch pads and your pencils are silent from where i am / but your heartbeat is steady like my room's wall clock / it's probably a roller coaster of a ride, but your emotions are too wild to acknowledge / so you hide them in a whip of one color then another, or you drip them in monochrome / and maybe sometimes you find yourself dancing to the wind's songs / but when it whispers a name, you cover your ears and sail yourself back to drawing

(eusie.)

trying to write a poem. or even a story. but shit

3,024,000 light-years. across the stretched road silence drove you mouthed against my cheeks 'the universe holds no questions' in your eyes exploded a thousand uncertainties 1,209,600 light-years. it's a one in a million possibility that you feel the same as me i breathed against your skin 'i know i can't have an answer to a question unsaid' flushed across the skies my soul flew chasing my dreams of you 604,800 light-years. a spur of the moment i met your lips with mine resurfaced mantras of 'say my name like a prayer' collapsed once again with your glazed over eyes 172,800 light-years. held everything like a fragile box i gave it to you like a sacrifice 'don't make me your religion' crawled and lingered on my ears now on the finish line you casted me on fire zero light-years. picked up my own broken pieces as i puzzled through you and realize like a poisoned broken glass you never held my heart on the tip of your tongue my name never stepped past

hence, a.k.a. “Here’s to someone, ver. 2″ (eusie.)

This will be one hell of a fucking ride

a.k.a. This was supposed to be hidden / under my bed / along with stories / I refuse to read before I sleep

Standing in front of a mirror / I see myself eyeing every inch of me / the black lace covering / almost nothing / and the music on my back / is glorious

Then there’s a knock / below my feet / as the wind settles behind the curtains of my bedroom window

It takes a second then a minute / blood flowing in a rush / heartbeat flooding my eardrums / as I parade down the stairs

He stands there like a kitten / his shadow touching the back of the door

He’s breathing fire as he enters inside / then our breaths waltz / in the same air-y music / then we feel the same desperate burn on our veins / the same shyness flush on our cheeks

A beat / a whisper / then pants begin travelling in the hope of more / of more bare skin / of more blazing touches / of more sight of swollen lips

I lead him to my room / catching his fingers once inside / placing them on my shoulder blades / I lead him / to have himself kiss me wet

(eusie.)