Perhaps,

the best gift I have 

given myself

is

hope.

Hope - 

 - that stems 

from

forgiveness.

Forgiveness - 

 - for allowing

myself

to deny

such pain.

Hope - 

 - that by

feeling

I am

able to

live,

breathe,

and

break free.

042014 - Unfinished

Suddenly,
You came rushing back;
Back as I pick the pieces up -
As I try to piece myself back together.

Rushing back to where we were,
To how we were before.
It was never the same again.
You and I changed -
We fell and got wounded,
We changed,
We grew up.

Rushing to something new,
Something seemingly familiar.
Feels like we've been here before,
But it was not the same place.
Are we going ‘round circles -
- or paving new paths?

You never left.

Originally posted here.

Borrowed Pen

Written around 1PM at the Raintree Teaspresso.

I find myself in this cafe -
With blank pages
And a borrowed pen.

As the ink fill up the spaces
With words better left unsaid

As the pages grow thinner
With thoughts written

I find myself - thinking -
Do I keep the pen
And keep writing?

Or should I return it
And let another fill up
Her pages with it?

Just now, at home, around 10.30PM - as a continuation

I find myself in this cafe -
Trying to write some more
Trying to create more memories

No -
No more

I let the pen go -
For it was never mine to keep

I let the pen go -
For it has better stories to write
On a different notebook.