Ocean Echoes

You get to live through life and like everyone else nothing is easy. Not a little speck of it or any amount that gravitates in your scope unloads the burden of life.

Then love happens.

Mostly; inconsistent, traumatizing, selfish, broken, uncompromising, hurting but sometimes it grows inside you and you relish at the beauty and satisfaction that comes with it. Only that a lot of times, it isn’t yours and that hurts so much.

I have been burning bridges, all these while staying from love that has caused me indescribable heartaches so many times. I am tired of trying, tired of the incessant anxiety that precedes it, tired of the mental torture that accompanies it and tired of the humiliating anguish that closes it. I have fought so many times and in full battle regalia to have someone love me for who I am and what I can be but all between these tiny spaces we breathe, all I have found are just sneezable ash that has pelted my being with constant maladies that has my laments on flowers. Just how they wilt, such beauty closed in the shortest time possible.

I have loved foolishly without any measure and dropped all my coverings to appear naked before my companions only for them to use the same weakness of my trust to demolish me like sledgehammers pelting my head. I have built so many walls to try to prevent any similar occurrence time again, if only to hide from the pain that accompanies the childish love I feel for flowers but hope weans and I die. I have died so any deaths, I could have prevented before tumbling out like a fucking star because stardust are drugs, pollen viruses that have infected me with intense sorrow. All my walls, no matter how much I dug the foundations to make them stronger – have precipitated in thin air the moment my heart conceded to its weakness of loving too much. All this time, shepherding me to silent graves, I have mourned my feelings.

I am tired of trying, tired of this ocean that has accumulated inside me due to my inability to shed tears like I want to. This has created emptiness in me where ghostly echoes entangle me in damnation of uselessness. I resemble a garden that once a produce has grown, it is immediately cut and taken away without any feel of respite. I am tired of the small blood gushing from the fault lines in my heart, tired of how the blood interlocks my breath in murderous push by blocking my veins.

I am faced with the relentless pursuit of love and letting go and being unable to defend who I love for right now I am unable to because I have to sacrifice. I am unable to go above the doctrines of love and compassion. But I love her like the cries of the forgotten past healed by time, echoes upon emerald waters in the falling horizon and it has been her. So short the span, so intense, so much so that I fall on the immensity of it all. And God, its merely describable how much I feel her and even the things I hoped to do for her. She is a beautiful soul, so beautiful that I’d compare her to the kindest angel that is unseen yet wants to be there. Anyone may judge me, and curse at my incessant stupidity but even in these spanning seconds I love her. What hurts the most is I have to watch her leave and so I am throttled by tears and I cant stop her. She has to leave but I love her. Still rousing as possible, still infant, still blazing, still devastating and sensational. I will go mad but she is a pure girl, humble even to the immense beauty that’s her.

How will I accept that love is enjoyable when all my life, my trials have been filled up by more breakage? And as if my heart were a glass – how will I re-stitch it if the pieces have been further broken to tiny shards of glass. Something scattered on the desert of pain and punished by the weather of chance out of its sheer stupidity. How am I to prevent all these from sinking me in a grave of tribulation when the heart goes for what it wants?

I’ll never know how good it feels to hold her but now I am her captive on an ice of fire and I am unsure if I am freezing or melting, someday she’ll walk to me – I’ll be waiting. But not for long.

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