To The Boy Who’s In Love With The Sun
to the boy who’s in love with the sun
to the boy who’s in love with the sun (and who also seems to be alike with the moon),
one
i am not a dreamer. i do not wish upon stars. they will suck every letter of our dreamy words. they let us taste lies from every glimmer they give for our eyes to hold. they look down on us, laughing. they watch us as our grounds shake, as our souls skin out every last smile we own. i am not a dreamer. i am not hopeful. i do not hope for impossible truths. i do not hope for palpable things to become blur. because reality is right in front of us, taking out every pain in between our eyes for us to feel, and we already can’t do anything about it, but to just accept and take everything. what’s on the tip our tongues are mantras we need to swallow. we need to stop hoping. we need to.
two
this is what i always thought.
three
i am not a dreamer. at least, long ago.
four
once, i found myself staring at the night sky and it was full of stars — full of hope like ones you see on the eyes of people in love. back then i thought, falling in love is an endless prayer of “please, please, please”. falling in love is picking up pieces that were already thrown away but keeping them in hopes of making them fit into the incomplete you. falling in love is wishing upon stars and endlessly hoping for nothing. and i said, i don’t want to fall in love.
five
but then one day, i saw him.
six
he was standing right in front of me, and the day was sunny. and i thought, he was reality’s human form. he was exactly the reason why people bow down to their knees every single night just to whisper wishful things, like for him to realize that the stars have always been singing for them like church bells. like his dreams finally came true and he was too blind to feel them running around him. he was someone i knew i shouldn't get my hopes up for or waste any time fancying of. but i couldn't help but to dream of his voice even if i haven’t heard it yet. i couldn't stop to want him to look at my way every time i feel him passing through the hallways of my heart. i couldn't stop imagining things. i don’t know if he can feel my eyes as they try to hug him every time i look at him from afar. his hair was the night sky, starless because they were showered onto every smile he gives.
seven
and i thought, maybe he’s in love with the sun for his cheeks are rosy pink, yet he was pale as the moon. and i wish that i used to be in love with him. because i want to give up for i realized my love would eventually go nowhere and burn out. but for the mean time, i want to know his name.
eight
i hope you know you’re the one i’m talking about.
nine
to the boy who’s in love with the sun, tell me your name.
from the girl who once told you to the stars (and who also mentioned you in her every prayer) yet she'll soon stop on wishing, hoping, dreaming and loving
(eusie.)
More Posts from Thsdfnngslnc and Others
i want to travel. until i fall in love with a place (a city) or a person (a home). and settle down.
a part two of something before this (eusie.)
“Sometimes I wonder / if I’m really the best / person for this body.”
— — John Elizabeth Stintzi, from “Salutations From the Storm,” Junebat
#pen #paper #ink #marks ?
Are you… asking me about my tags? If yes, then…
#pen is for posts that are just some of my (personal) babblings#paper are poems/prose/writings that are either about me, for me, or related to me#ink is for posts that i’ve written#marks are asks that i’ve answered
i wanna be the one who you think of when you look at the moon or the shadow that you miss at night can i be the story behind the pieces of crumpled paper on your bedroom floor? i wanna be the cold beer that kiss you every time you feel out of breath
an excerpt from a poem i wrote and deleted pt. 2 (eusie.)
an interview with my neighbor
part 1: mr jameson coles
frozen cookies are his favorite snacks; he said he likes his heart cold. he even likes to fill the path to his house with burned out roses. “because no one likes a love dwindled to nothing,” he replied when i asked why. sad love, sad love, sad love, i heard his eyes whisper. my heart ached. he always met sunrises with cold coffee which he made every night before. and he didn’t care if his shower won’t work anymore. “where do you take baths then?” he answered that his soul keeps wandering around anywhere but here. he likes the smell of nails. and he said he knows what everyone thought of him. the paintings in his living room always sing to him in a melody that resembled a voice in his past. he didn’t tell me a name. but he said his past liked every time it snows. “do you like it when it snows?” he then asked me. then there was a story behind his eyes that echoed out memories. sad love, sad love, sad love, i heard myself whisper. he secludes himself; he said it’s because he’s waiting. for a future he planned long ago with someone who’s not here anymore. the room surrounded us with an atmosphere that felt like i was traveling backwards. a howling wind screamed pain throughout as he looked outside the windows. then slowly, but tearfully, he murmured, “a sad love, isn’t it?”
(eusie.)
19:34
My lips fail to be in sync with my heart’s desire, so I relied on my hands.
But with every paper filled with smudges from my fingertips, I have realized,
I can never write everything down the same way I used to…
when I was a chaos but my heart wasn’t.
(eusie.)
a feeling: “nothing lost but something missing”
my throat tastes of rust and i'm drunk on my tears
my cries dance on the rooftop and i'm a high tide on this silent night
there is a rustling inside of me that doesn't stop
and sometimes it ends up as an aching a yearning for an unknown
this skin keeps on burning and i’m still hurting
but i don’t why
(eusie.)
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