What Am I Supposed To Say? Stay? How Would I Make It Sound Like I Am Not Begging? My Love, I Don't Know

What am I supposed to say? Stay? How would I make it sound like I am not begging? My love, I don't know how. I'm not good at this. So if you please, just sit with me. But if you want to leave, just go. Right now. Run far away. Don't look back so you won't see me breaking gently and change your mind. The worst that you can do is come back not because you love me but because you're sorry. In the name of the love that I bravely professed and all the poems that I ran in my head, leave me with my pride and sanity intact.

-If you have to leave...

Katie, 16:00

I love him

All the time

And he loves me too

Sometimes

During mornings

He holds me close

Like nothing can part us

For we're locked

In unbreakable embrace

And our bond

Is mightier than the Gordian knot

He loves me

In those minutes before midnight

He kisses me

His lips glide gently

Against mine

Like a dew

Washing away my fright

Oh I trust

That he loves me deeper

Than the night

Yes, he loves me

During the early hours of dawn

He whispers

Words that melt a heart of stone

I feel it

As it penetrates my bones

Such passion

Immortalized in songs

Oh he loves me

When the sky turns dark

And the moon

Tries to drive away the demons

Stealing the light

So I won't be completely shrouded

By the ghastly night

And my tears can glitter

A sparkling stream of anguish

As I cry

He loves me

Yes, sometimes he does

Though it will never be enough

To fill the void gaping

In the depth of my soul

I savor the moments

When he showers me love

Those precious "sometimes"

I pretend they last

And that they commensurate

All the tears I shed

When the season changes

And he doesn't feel a beat

For me at all

-I love him and he loves me too, sometimes...

Katie,21:00

Falling in love with you is the highlight of my year.

Katie, 22:00

Fourth of July, 2019 ❤

I am not writing enough. I call myself a writer but don't stain my notes with words as much as I ought to. And tonight, I sit on my bed and stare blankly at the empty piece of paper lying cold on my coffee table. I write the word "He" and stop; unsure if I am now ready to pour out my thoughts. I let out a sigh. If I let my guards down, there are lots of things I can associate with the word "He".

//

"He"

Is what wakes me up every morning, an alarm clock screaming. The light that bathe me with euphoric thoughts that come rushing in a long queue the moment I stir from slumber.

//

"He"

Is the aroma of coffee that fills my head, reminding me of the last time we're in my favorite coffee shop, listening to songs, trying hard to ignore the rhythm of our hearts and the spark we created when our hands accidentally touched.

//

"He"

Is the good morning texts I get, those innocent messages I refuse to read because I am scared to uncover something beneath; say a gift I am not prepared to unwrap but dying to have.

//

"He"

Is the movies I watch, the songs I hum and listen to, the gentle chuckles that resound in my head, stirring emotions in me that are long dead.

//

"He"

Is what paints a smile on my lips, the reason why I beam in the midst of a curious crowd. It's insane sometimes, but I feel like floating on cloud nine.

//

"He"

Is the thread that ties me to sanity. The only thing that makes sense when all I can see is chaos and the cacophony is just too loud for me to contain.

//

"He"

Is the journey and the destination. The good night texts that pop on the screen of my cellphone the moment I get home.

//

"He"

Is the home and the love I run away from, thinking I may only be dreaming because reality could not possibly be this mirthful .

//

"He"

(In spite of myself) is the arms I wish would welcome me when I am done running at the end of the day.

//

-He,

Katie, 01:30

I am made

To coexist

With love

And coffee beans

Love and coffee beans,

Katie, 18:45

I stopped coming home

Stopped missing...

The smell of breakfast being made

The early morning chuckles

Talks about the news and the weather

All the coffee stains

Spilled over the dinner table

The sound of footsteps

And loud knocks on the door

Goodnight kisses

The late night conversations

About how the day went

And the warmth that comes after that

Yes, the warmth that comes after that...

I stopped

For the breakfast that used to be made

Eventually became

Cold and empty table

Desperate waiting for hours

For a company

That has died

Though I never know how

Or why

The early morning chuckles

Became yellings

Ceaseless arguments

About everything

And nothing

Until they turned

To small talks

About why things should end

Then became silence

Deafening, sickening silence

I can only endure

Because the words

Are gone

And so does the strength

I saved to say them one last time

The coffee stains

Became the blood

Oozing from wrist cuts

Flesh being slashed

Over and over

Because the pain

Is no longer felt

The heart became numb

The sound of footsteps outside the door

Became hollow echo of hushed sobs

A car driving away

Headed somewhere I cannot follow

And the goodnight kisses

All the shower of wishes

Became chilling winds

Blowing ruthlessly against my skin

The late night conversations died

In the hall

Now I ask myself how my day went

As I tremble

And cry.....

Oh I stopped

I stopped coming home

For the things

That used to make my blood rush

In exhilaration

The surge of emotions

Are no longer there

And the place

I persistently call home

Is now a graveyard

For all the dreams

I wished would come true

But were wiped out

By an unknown cannon

Long ago....

-Empty table,

Katie, 21: 45

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