stained scribbles

maybe one day i'll tell you; you deserve to know

[stainedscribbles]

last week, i visited my old school. it was nice to revisit where i spent most of my life in. i don't know if i've romanticized it by now, but it feels so untainted to me. it existed before so much happened. i was still happy then. i keep thinking about her. who she was. what made her happy. if she would have been proud of me. if she would have recognized me. i feel so disconnected and so different from her. i think she wanted to be a doctor. she was good in science. she smiled a lot. the only thing that made her cry so much was her graduation day, because leaving is painful. it still is. i'm leaving again soon. i wonder if she would have wanted me to stay.

P.T. // Author Confessions #10

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questions:    i. is it possible to hold on to something that has slipped away?    ii. can i be hurt without having the right to be?    iii. is she worth the sadness?    iv. would things be different if i told you?    v. if i remove you from my life, is that taking care of myself?

P.T. // Untitled #17

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i am starting to realize that you could break me. i thought i could tell you.    i could have asked, "please don't break me." because you wouldn't. you were not that type of person.    but you already did. without intending to. because the only way not to was to love me back.

P.T. // Author Confessions #9

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do you stop your tears so often that it obeys and you feel nothing

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so instead, you decide to sleep. because of  the promise that everything gets better in the morning.    but honey, nothing gets better in the morning    like your hangover    or the fact that he left without saying goodbye    nothing will get better in the morning    like your heart

P.T. // The non-existent book #52

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i have lost the ability to feel. the words have finally slipped away, after being untouched for so long.    maybe this is what closure feels like. maybe words can end the way relationships do.

P.T. // Author confessions #8 // Closures

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and maybe i miss you so much breathing feels like a luxury i don't deserve

P.T. // Thoughts with a hint of tequila

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make home inside the broken    we'll always have room for you

P.T. // Thoughts with a hint of tequila // Ten Word Story

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how do you tell someone sorry for leaving

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recovery process (n.)    time is going by slowly and something inside of you is dying

P.T. // Dictionary Entry

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it is that time again when poetry is a scarcity and im looking for breadcrumbs in places where you haven't been sometimes happiness cannot be found in the same place you lost it

P.T. // Author confessions #7

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i am begging for seconds the train was late but the movie started early and you left without saying goodbye

P.T. // Untitled #16

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"Promise me you'll stay"    "I can't"    "Why?"    "I don't want to give you something broken"

P.T. // The non-existent book #51

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The terminal always seemed so tempting, with different options of escape.

P.T. // Thoughts with a hint of tequila // I want to leave; I don’t like the life I’ve built

[stainedscribbles]

i. you hide too much sometimes i wonder if it's still you that i see    ii. you promised you were gonna stay but coffee gets cold and night becomes day; lies are made for people to believe    iii. little nothings turn into something new and soon enough i won't be able to know you; life is extremes -- it's yes or no, it's stop or go, it's stay or don't ever come back    iv. silent promises are dreams you forget when you wake up. you were never here

P.T. // The non-existent book #50

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It is from the sidelines wherein I got the best view. It is from the bleachers where I was able to see you. You've grown.    I've always wondered if you're doing okay. I still don't know the answer, but I noticed you've become stronger. Personally, I think that's enough.

P.T. // Author confessions #6

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you exist inside broken frames    in the moments trapped inside pictures    in rehearsed smiles,    and contradictory expressions. you exist inside cracks,    and forced spaces.    i never actually planned    to make a room for you. you are brokenness    and corners turned into rooms    you are destruction    you are the monsters under my bed

P.T. // Untitled #15