Split Seconds

It can be that one afternoon in New York
A Sunday afternoon by the beach
A Saturday night filled with music
A weekend
A month

One summer
Your entire December
A week before Valentine’s

It happens
It will just happen




Let it be known that not fully loving you,
Not fully exposing how and what I feel
Are also signs of love

Trying not to lift a finger
Leaving the room when all I wanted was to linger
Are tales of sacrifice

It may be a little less brave
It could be a sign of me being weak
Still, let it be known that it’s you I always think


A Little Better

Yesterday was a cry-fest.
It’s when you know that you have no way out but to have your total surrender.
Somehow, it felt good. Way, way better.
Some sort of catharsis I must say.
Exhausting, yeah but revealing.

You can claim you’re tough. You can make others believe you’re ok.
I’m the queen of Cs anyway.
Cool-calm-collected, always in control.
Always on top of my thing but sometimes it gets too real.

The rest of the night was spent indulging on a sin.
Nah, not really a sin.
But for me to waste hours tracking down the details feels so inconvenient
And to waste it all on unproductive amusement.

To cut it short,
I’m a bit paralyzed and am admitting that tonight.


It’s amazing how the years debunked and affirmed the things I once declared.
Funny how my 7-year old self knew she’d love high ceilings, wooden stairs and glass panels.
In the same way I learned that my 11-year old self’s ideal man is no longer worth a 5-second stare.

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Of Empty Cups and Blank Pages

My heart revolts
As my mind quietly screams “stop being unfair”
Stop being unfair to me, to us who believe that there is more to life than romance or destiny

I am not saying I don’t need one
But I won’t go for your rule ‘that it’s better than none’

Stop filling my cup
Stop paving the road for me
Let me find my own route
I will get there without a doubt

Let me write my own story
I am telling you, I am happy with ‘me’
I don’t see the need to hurry
Let me fulfill the life made for me – in my own terms

Let me finish my lines
Let me face my own agony

It pains me to think that you only see me in half
Stop thinking only because I am on my own, I don’t have enough.

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