biscuitwithaface

[biscuitwithaface]

Writing about how much I loved you was the grudge I held against love itself. It pressed against my chest, aching through my lungs and heart. It was too much to fathom—so I blinded love with myself. Now, at the sight of love, everything goes dark and I am only at the skin of it. My eyes swell with emotion, as though ready to fall off a cliff. It was the longing to see you. My hands would reach for you—to hold, to hug, to cuddle, to sway, to touch you gently. I’d make coffee for us, like it was the first sunrise on the bed. Oh, these grudges.

[biscuitwithaface]

You have become a part of me now. You, the skeleton; I, the skin that latches on.

[biscuitwithaface]

I want the wind to carry this ache away—before the bloom, before the light. Let me dust off my heart and become something gentle. God, turn me into a flower.

[biscuitwithaface]

My heart fell—brutally and beautifully. When it broke into pieces, love still stayed, like a memory that never learned to let go of its own shadow.

[biscuitwithaface]

Oh to live and breathe in the kind of life surrounded by wisps of polluted air and minds and priorities got all wrong. Where the stress of the U-pin coming loose is enough to spike anxiety levels only to find solace in a single bed in the darkness of our bedroom. Where our livelihood rarely contributes to a life. Where we don’t recognise the person staring back at us in the mirror. When we cannot remember when the dark circles made their first appearance and made themselves permanent despite being uninvited. Where we have no time to ask the “why” because we’ve been put in the loop to solve the “how” of survival. What is this life? Where, among all this, is life?

[biscuitwithaface]

They told me the sky was too far to touch, so I planted it in my garden.

All I ever wished was, for a perfect love story with a perfect ending. Perfection is a myth dressed in daisy chains and daydream. It looked so beautiful, like I was sleeping and this was the perfect dream I could reason to myself for a long slumber. I held on, like roots gripping the clouds and growing daisies in the sky that no one else believed would bloom. I let the sky grow in the softness of a “certain hope” always, while I pricked my heart on the thorns of “almost” and “not quite”.

[biscuitwithaface]

It’s not just showering love. I want it to cascade in stages, from the crown on your head to the sole that carries the weight of you.

[biscuitwithaface]

There goes the power of love I once held—the urge to kiss your bruise, is now just an embrace of nothingness and a quiet “sigh, wish I was there”, from the fading shadow of my own love.

[biscuitwithaface]

The silence between thunderclaps held more truth than their noise— a pause, heavy with the weight of everything I didn’t say.

[biscuitwithaface]

I trust love and I know it that it will come back to me. Even the little sunshine I give, will multiply exponentially and cast rays on me like I’m the sun’s sibling.

[biscuitwithaface]

To stay in something relentlessly, is what mountaineering my love for you taught me.And I am right here, loving myself slowly without a time to bind me. I am love and love is timeless.

[biscuitwithaface]

I am standing at the top of my heart, the one that mountained itself. I walked throught the path that once made me a mountaineer in emotion and in loving you. And I go back home without knowing where to find you. There was a way to my heart that could have also let you go easily.

But why did I choose to have you stuck at its dead end?

[biscuitwithaface]

i have such a weird, sometimes almost desperate, need to be liked by people i like. it’s embarrassing but also exhausting, because almost always those people don’t owe you anything - company, kindness, support. and then one day the reality check hits and you are forced to treat them as normal people. it’s that gut-wrenching realization that you’ve been overextending yourself for people who never asked you to. and not in a ‘they’re bad people’ way but in a ‘they just exist, and you built a whole emotional ecosystem around them’ way. and when the bubble pops, you’re left there, recalibrating, reminding yourself that liking someone doesn’t mean they owe you anything.

[biscuitwithaface]

being an mcr fan feels like this

[biscuitwithaface]

I chant your name in so much softness like its the only prayer my lips know.

[biscuitwithaface]

Why were you the one I had to hopelessly fall in love with and have so many forevers that I failed, clutch me without letting go?

[biscuitwithaface]

My numbness is a transcript of everything that I feel for you.