I was on a self-loathe last week. I hate myself, people, and everything I did was a wrong version of an alternate universe. My head wouldn’t shut up at night and sleep til’ noon messed me up as fuck, until I thought I just need some solitary and a lil’ bit of fun.
So, why would I ruin it?
Why do we talk about ourselves to stranger?
Because they don’t know well about our life, our past, our background.
Because they don’t judge, they listen.. and it is so much better.
So, let’s keep it anonymous
Let’s be stranger.
A white fluorescent faded light
Snore in my ear
Cuckoo in the third-quarter of night
Sunrise is near
I saw you flirt with the breeze as you breathe. I stole a look when you told me the story of seven seas. I knew from the first time I met you two years ago, you are something rarest I found in a million light of years. I felt the touch on the back of your hand when you still wondered if God knows that your effort is the most consistent, reliable thing in your life. I don’t even know what this kind of feeling is. You are just impossible. You told yourself you want to come back home, but you never know what is home. We met on the right time, yet you ran again. Why couldn’t I catch you?
I will be counting raindrops till we meet again. Hoping that I’ll catch you someday.