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Couch For Two




I was ready to move out of the house you built for us to stay the moment I knew you will never come home anymore
I sleep on the couch while watching TV without having to slide to the other side making a space for you to sit on
I draw a nice bath with cold water I’d pleasurably enjoy without hearing your nagging voice from the other side of the door telling me to soak into hot water
I lay awake at night snuggled into a thick blanket on rainy days without turning the heater on and there isn’t any warmth of your breath creeping on my skin trying to block away the cold
I listen to my favorite whispery voice from slow mellow songs instead of having the argument over a blaring deafening one of yours
I watch series that we both used to love one season in a night and when that one particular movie was on the TV I smiled remembering how hard you always cry while watching it
And then I play it again for the hundred times trying to accustom myself not to deliberately searching for your hand to hold onto 

I was trying my best effort to slowly alter the routine by letting it be the way it used to be
Until my mind realizes that the hollow void piece of you is already missing from the picture
Until my mind can finally catch up with my already shattered heart you punched into hundreds little broken fragments

I know exactly when I am ready to leave the empty space on the couch, the unbelievably cold bedroom, and a stack of DVD below the TV
I might be ready to leave the house of your scent after years and years putting myself in a box of constant pain
But between those 3 seconds I chose to stand in front of the door looking around feeling proud of myself because I finally am able to hold the key without trembling,
You open the damn door from outside
And yet I am stroked in awe of the thought that you still think,
that you still feel like you belong enough you don’t even need to knock to come inside
And you grasp the empty shell of my name into your embrace slowly roamed every familiarity all over again
Between those 3 seconds, you fill back the soul and once again after many years, I am whole.
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It's About Time, Bil

I might be the most stubborn hot-headed person you will ever met, I might have the most annoying laugh you will ever heard, I might never stopped talking until your ears blown off. Believe it or not, there is another person who is as stubborn as me with the similar taste of jokes and complex thoughts. But she is way smarter with words, that I always feel like my writing will never be good enough compared to hers. She complained about how rarely I show my affection towards our friendship through my writing or my random post on instagram. To say that I don't have enough good pictures with her is just a mere excuse because I can simply write my feelings out like I did for my other close friends. But when it comes to her, I never feel like my written word is ever enough. She is a much brilliant writer than I ever be, and most of the time I feel like my words didn't do justice to describe it; to describe how she can be infuriating with her anger & big fire towards injustice of t...
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