inbetweenInkandPages

For words unuttered, For the poems and scribbles left on notes and pages.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

A grieving father the loss of his mother.

A mother dealing with the loss of her own father.

I grieve the loss the of parents I still have.

I’m grieving the the life i’m supposed to lead

Parenting both your parents, proves to be daunting task.

When I was 21, I was thought to be wiser than my age.

I have a vision, I had a plan.

At 31, i’m grieving the future I never had.

Turns out, I had no idea what real life is.

In the middle of the night, a thought strikes me often.

Saying, “ Just run away”

But back home, i had a wide-eyed younger brother looking up to me.

“ Don’t be selfish”, My conscience always win.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

We’re polaroids hanging over my bed.

Lights twinkling over vibrant smiles amidst the dim light.

We were screaming, dancing, living in the little world we have.

Long haul bus trips, endless stretch of azure water over dull-colored sand.

I could almost see the sweat dripping down our faces one afternoon in the middle of summer.

Flushed cheeks, seeking relief from seaside breeze.

One night, surrounded by bottles.

Frozen laughters with shiny eyes full of all things wild.

Careless and fearless.

Drunk on the high of being young.

Going back to the reality of this room,

Reminiscence towed a degree of sadness.

Coz we’re nothing but polaroids now,

Just passing memories casually hanging over my head.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Something about having a way out comforts me. Except for random fluke of adrenaline and a couple of “ why the hell not?”s , I’m not particularly a brave person. A cross between acting based on pure impulse and losing sleep, pondering about 30million ways a decision could go wrong. I don’t even know where this rambling is headed, but i guess it’s nice to look back and have some anchor. To know that if all else fails, there is an alternate path. That moving does not always have to be linear.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Life lately.

All wrapped up in Snowlin and Killian.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Don’t follow me.

I need a few seconds to breathe.

Don’t ask.

I feel the little cracks in my rose-colored ceiling.

It’s starting to bleed,

Pouring words in scarlet and bold ink.

Let me go.

Before all my mother’s fury

Flood and drown you.

In razor sharp waves they will cut deep and true.

And I just know where to hurt you.

Mistake my silence for anything else but weakness.

I keep my all strength inside this room.

Let it shake and settle.

Implode on me instead of unto you.

Words bears weight

And i don’t want to bear witness the consequences.

So I gulp it all down.

Acid, the truth, and my sense of self.

I am a calm storm.

Dark clouds constantly brewing.

So i’m begging, don’t tempt me.

Don’t grab and hold me in place.

Let me run away for your sake.

This is for my people. Those who’s constantly anxious and conscious that their words could demolish all that they hold dear.

My thunderclouds.

P.s wrote this after listening to opaline by novo amor.

[erosedits]

Fascinating. You look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?

[coffeecatsandcoldnights]

Tairn and his silver one.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Tairn, the sassy and grumpy old dragon being my favorite character in this book.

[fraserjamiefraser]

“I will not die today” || Violet Sorrengail || Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

[inbetweeninkandpages]

3 days post fourth wing blues.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

The hand that catches my fall, a pair that caresses my fears, soothing and steady. I know I can count on you.

Feet that carries me away, running through life like ours depend on the escape route. You know that it's you, I can safely lean on.

The same voice, lulls me away from anxiety. Same lips, mouth It's okay assurances in the middle of the night. Same breath, I count and match pace to mine. Breathless, you pull me back.

I know sometimes I'm more than a handful. But I have you. Love's supposed to get us through.

With a small smile,you whispered. "You're reading so much into this"

Phantom Limb

[inbetweeninkandpages]

midday blues for when you’re lonely

midday wonderings, how are you? Do you miss me? Got no friends here. Haven't been taking a drag from an actual stick Does menthol still gives you a head rush? Does the sunset still look the same half the world away? It doesnt feel the same here, I don't even try.

No music in the afternoon. Just taking a nap before work. Wide eyed at night for different reasons. I would close my eyes, only to go back. If gravity won't let me move, I hope this mind could fly. But it feels different. But it feels different.

There's no us. No shadows dancing on the rooftop. No glistening forehead sweat in moonlight. Smoke floating around us, remains unseen. Bottles around the corner, taste of pomelo and gin. Got a new high, but I'm down for some old nicotine rush.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Potential energy lays in static, wasted upon daydreams and hazy stare. The smoke that covers your face is my summer's newfound aesthetic. The turmoil inside that hazel eyes, so sublime. It's like you knew me between sheets all this time. Pull me in, Pull me in to drown. Take a drag of that cigarette between you're lips. I'll breathe for the both of us.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Sleepless nights and starless skies

Driving through night with another stranger,

Searching for answers in someone else’s vacant eyes.

I closed mine,wishing the rush would not meet it’s inevitable end.

Running, running away to get out of my head.

It took me to places I only see outside this tinted window.

I lived for the moment, left questions floating in the cool night air.

And the journey back is does not feel like coming home

Cause I’d rather ask the sky devoid of stars

than lay there in my bed, starring at the ceiling.

Wondering if you did the same.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Sometimes Infinite possibilities feels more like infinite number of questions with a million of indefinite answers.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

What if being an adult is being in a constant state of wondering whether you’re outgrowing things or just losing yourself?

[inbetweeninkandpages]

How quickly December air turned into december’s snow.

It’s nice and magical, I know.

Glistening in white,

Fluttering flakes failing against your covered head.

So you stare in awe of the scene unfolding in front of you.

The numb,slowly creeping in despite the thick, heavy jacket on your shoulder.

It’s pretty, for a while.

But it’s not home.

[inbetweeninkandpages]

IN MEMORY OF A MEMORY.

How I wish we have grown closer.

Wish I met you halfway with your gentle smile and kind offering.

I was a kid then and a kid now, comparing people’s value like toys.

My favor was quite glaring, blinding my own eyes from your longing to be closer and to be seen.

I will miss the way you glance from your balcony in the morning, asking me how’d I’d slept.

Those moments that seemed so mundane to really pause and commit into memory.

Funny how I go back to them now.

Knowing that one of those ordinary days will be the last time I would see you.

You were there, just right beside me all these years.

Yet, I longed for the familiar embrace miles away.

Never realized that in missing her, I have missed you.

Lost a chance to get to know you.

Beyond my father’s fond recollection of this youth,

Beyond the obvious spark of love in his eyes that goes beyond any conditions,

Beyond the stories of how you nurtured my aunts.

More than just your conviction and your wit.

More than your carefree attitude despite your age.

You we’re always the cool one.

The one who’d drink and dance.

The eyes’ which glistens the very next day when everyone had to go.

We understood now, how painful it is to let someone go somewhere you can’t follow.

92 years and you have gone to soon.

We miss you everyday.

LOLA

[inbetweeninkandpages]

Having it all, or nothing.

I was a kid then.

And I thought nothing could top the feeling of having everything.

Each toy in that shop.

Those pretty dresses hanging behind those windows.

It was everything.

It was the definition of happiness.

All or nothing.

To have it all.

To leave nothing to the imagination.

2 decades later, I wanted nothing.

Sitting here in my balcony,

I worry less about the world.

I don’t want to know if Mary ever found out about her husband’s weekly secret trip.

I don’t want to subscribe to the daily dose of whispers and hear-says about some stranger living in the neighborhood.

I want coffee in the morning.

The warmth of the summer.

The fog on the windows during the season of snow.

I want a book in my hands and a quilt on my lap.

Some old love tunes to sway to after dinner.

A glass of wine or two.

I want oversized shirts and flannel pajamas.

Fuzzy socks and no drama.

So little matters now.

And I want it all.