Opus no. 4, Poetry by Maria Ana Francesca Ison

Genre: Love, Relationship

Opus no. 4

by: Maria Ana Francesca Ison

 

3/3/16

It’s sad to think that I am the only one who’s holding on.

I should’ve refused fake love but I didn’t.

Maybe it’s what drives me crazy as of the moment.

Those sleepless nights and lack of appetite,

Were mainly caused by the distraught you have brought upon my inner sanity.

 

I wished I didn’t even meet you.

If I knew this would happen, I would’ve left this philosophical gathering.

I should’ve avoided the risky meetings.

I could’ve escaped the tension.

 

But now the tremor on my brain was already formed.

No one was to blame for this.

No one but me.

Because I was the one crossed the Rubicon.

I was the one who didn’t have control

Indeed it was I who was more matured.

Though your years are indeed ahead of mine.

But when I got to know you better,

I’ve realized that you’re innocent but not that innocent.

You are sometimes a child, sometimes a grown adult.

 

This risk that I’ve taken has really got its chains on me.

I kept on asking myself this,

“When will you realize?

When will you realize that he will never be with you. ”

I was confused by the idea.

 

He was like this man who could not contain himself.

He showed what his emotion was.

No pretense of such, though I don’t know him.

Of the 4 seasons that passed, he seemed like a stranger now.

Does he really care for me?

 

If he doesn’t, I am sure I’m okay with it.

But why do I succumb to this agony ?

Is it because I don’t know myself?

Or myself is hiding herself?

Do I really want to get hurt like this?

 

I’ve always assumed he wanted to make me laugh.

He tries his best to please me and to make me happy.

He startles whenever I inquire him.

He finds it awkward to have eye contact with me whereas its easy for him to do to others.

I thought holding on to these thoughts would comfort me.

Would maybe even solve some of my problems such as my insecurities.

Thinking of how somebody would possibly love me.

But all of it was just a pseudoreaction.

A misunderstood response of humanity.

He didn’t really appreciate me.

I MEAN he didn’t love me.

He will never love me.

He is numb.

He is divided by his vow.

Nothing will ever happen if I still hold on to this.

This never ending rollercoaster.

This infinite heartbreak.

This constant disturbia.

This unfair game with Fate.

“No longer will I suffer this,”

I told myself. But why do I want him?

 

Maybe because I am waiting for love.

Love that cannot be quenched by simple smiles.

I want one that is very exclusive for me.

The care I never received.

The feeling of such importance.

Those moments when he speaks like he was in the clouds and you know that he was talking all about you.

Comparing you to the deities. The deities that are very incompassable in their attributes.

Be told that your beauty is like on of those goddesses.

Be the inspiration of his poems.

Be the greatest achievement he has ever had.

But those are all shattered in an instant.

I was pulled back to the earth.

I thought I was in heaven rather I had hell.

 

    * * * * *

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