Dear my love,

❝11:11 PM.❞

          I begin to write this letter to you at 11:11 PM. All for you. I write you during a time for hopeless wishes of the lonely. I made a wish. I wished you wouldn't have forgotten me. Guess that wish won't come true—like every other wish. I think—I think I like mysteries too much. I like them so much I became one.

❝Athazagoraphobia.❞

          The fear of being forgotten or ignored and fear of forgetting. I dread for you. My breath has gone short. When you whisper words into my soul, my heart beat spreads its wings and flies. My mouth has gone dry—words cannot escape. Vibrations consume me. Why do you hate me? If you found out, that perhaps, I have this, will you run away like you do everyday? Return when midnight falls and when howls tickle the walls? Of course not, you're not silly. You'll never return.

❝I am everything. I am nothing. I am powerful. I am forgotten.❞

          Forgotten. That's how I feel. A tint of being scared garnishes the rotten state I am in. You forgot that I exist. You were supposed to change, create a new picture, decorate the night, shine so bright; what happened tonight? Maybe, I'm like the moon—part of me is always hidden away.

❝As Numey once said, a lot we have in our head, but things of heart are not yet dead; they have done none, but just fled, out of us, Forgotten, just been bled..❞

          You forgot about me, my existence, my heart, everything. No longer a love, a friend, just a voice from above. If I had a wish, I'd ask you to draw me a smile and save me tonight. I am a blank page, waiting for you to fill me in, to bring me back to life. But you can't because you haunt me. Break my soul into two. Do you care? The answer is quite clear.

❝No.❞

          Why would you?

❝Ugly ducklings aren't meant to be seen with beautiful black swans.❞

          Exactly. Can we both be ugly? I wonder how I look like in your eyes. A destroyed work of art. An ugly masterpiece. A mistake, perhaps? Why am I so hard to understand? When you cannot even understand yourself, when you're lost in your own thoughts, in your own mind. This is the thing about pain: it demands to be felt.

❝A moment, a love, a dream, a laugh, a kiss, a cry, our rights, our wrongs.❞

          What happened to them? It's like they don't even exist anymore. They don't breathe words anymore. Music doesn't make their hearts beat anymore. What happened to them? What happened to us?

❝Wasn't it the mighty Chad Sugg that whispered truth to my heart? He told me that my body is an ugly masterpiece that lives off the beauty of sound.❞

          He's true, right not wrong. No one likes to tango with Medusa. You know, the worst thing is seeing someone drown and not be able to convince them that they can save themselves by just standing up. Too bad you weren't able to convince me. Delete me from this world, please. I no longer see a reason for me to crawl on my knees—my battered and bruised knees.

❝I beg you: free me!❞

          Locked behind bars, my tears are fed up by being under surveillance. They want to be free. Meek and monotonous as the sea, my tears whimper usually as their blaring waves wash over my skin. Staining my skin with malicious lies, they taint my pale valley with ice. The jail's doors slowly close, but too slow, and the tears escape from their dungeon.

❝As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.❞ —William Shakespeare.

          Snow doesn't help a fire, words cannot discourage love. Quenching a fire would put it out, so one who is love-struck can't be rationalized with and can't be talked out of it. But no, this alluring desire to feel your bright fire keeps on burning my flesh and blood. It splits it open and shrivels it into pieces, wraps around my heart like a blanket. Under the dark, powerful spell casted on me, each moment was a blast to my past; only memories shall last. Hurt me, my love.

❝It is like trying to recall a forgotten dream—each time I feel close to remembering where we met, the memories slip away.❞

          Light as a feather, floating through the whispering air, gravity lost control of me and life didn't play fair. Suffocating through the clothes that cling on so tight, I always wonder if I will make it through the night.

❝Ink flows out on the tombstone, scribbling on butterflies; they looked bruised, broken, and mostly as if they can die.❞

          All I do. All I will be. A bruised and broken butterfly, ready to die. Close my eyes, monsters come alive. My eyes weep of lullabies, and slash knives over the snowy valley, hoping maybe one will end all of this crying. But no, I do not cry with tears decorating my eyes. I have become far, far, far too talented at silent weeping.

❝Lies they feed, lies they eat.❞

          True, no? Liars are everywhere: in the air, in the dark, in the light, in the souls of angels, in the eyes of devils, and, most importantly, in you.

❝Liar, liar, pants on fire...❞

          Embedded on my gravestone, the three words slowly die out as I shrivel myself into pieces.

❝Goodbye, my love.❞

          Tearing my skin apart as I claw my heart out, the words start ripping the happiness out of me. Anger and sadness, a turmoil of emotions, hopelessness—all of it kicks at my sides. The bridge underneath my feet shakes and weakens as the latches fall off. The warmth from the darkness turns into ice as the tears fall down from their prisons.

❝It's 3:00 AM.❞

          I'm still writing you this letter at 3:00 AM. The only ones awake at 3:00 AM are the lonely and the loved. You can figure out which one I belong to. No, not the latter. Is this hour the end of everything or just a new way to bleed?

❝Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are...❞

          My love, what happened to you? You used to be so true. Now you're dull, shine no more, vanish so quickly, leaving me forgotten. I have a part in this too. I won't lie. Some days, I have to open up your picture to remember you. I'm forgetting your face in the rains of November. I've forgotten the melody of your voice; I just don't want to remember.

❝Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky...❞

          Go ahead, delete me. Don't read my emotions anymore. I'm a closed book from now on. But hey, we're all stories in the end, aren't we? If you're dying to know, the lock to my closed book was your shine, your love; fly away, my love.

❝Goodbye my love, my one and only, my everything, my life.❞

Yours truly,
A broken promise.

p.s. you