xx Ella.Z

Some things are just irreplaceable or rather someone? A story about a boy who lost a precious one while seeking for others. There was once a boy who has all of his favourite toys in the world to play with. And there was a doll up on the shelf that he owns just to amuse him whenever he got bored of playing all of his precious toys. The doll was rare, beautiful yet so fragile as she was one of a kind, a porcelain antique china doll that can never be found in every toy store. But the boy couldn't care less about her uniqueness or was he just clueless? Unlike the other toys that he seemed to play with gentle and care, he played the doll so rough --kicking and smashing her as if he could get a new one of the exact same doll in no time. Somehow, with all the torture he put upon the doll, it made him happy. After he has done playing, the boy would put the doll back into her box and placed her back on the shelf. And it became a daily routine for him. Until one day, the porcelain sk...

Just when he tells you --you're either too or not good enough,  let him walk out of your life for he'll be missing the most enough person he could ever keep.  "You're not good enough for me."  "You're just too much for me."  I felt that phrase being thrown at me for quite a few times. Well, I'm neither. I'm enough --enough that would make you feel overwhelmed and run away for something less to settle with. 

Does it ever get lonely? Thinking you could live without me. Halsey's new breakup song inspired me to write out my own. Do you think of me, babe? When you're feeling high, Choking yourself w ith smokes, Of a lit-joint, Thinking you're not sorry, For a past you wish to forget, Or not quite yet? A blurred face, A silhouette. Do you think of me, babe? When you're feeling high, Or have I become a distant memory? The one you can no longer trace, Why? No longer you know my name, No longer you recognize my face, I was there, You can't deny. Do you still think of me, babe? When you're feeling high, Though I'm far for you to hold, Can you live? Being lonely, Without me? Whilst having fun, Not what I've been told, You can't.

Another chapter for my bad boy persona. Brokenhearted by regrets is his best skill to feel. His love had to leave. She had to leave. All that's left for him is his regrets in every cigarette he took. And memories of her, her name, the initial --scarred as a tattoo on his skin, achingly forever.

To the guy who has my heart but fell for another. I was too late to realize my own feelings. I want to say, "I miss you." but surely, you wouldn't believe it. I want to say, "Stay, don't leave me." but you would rather walk away with it. I want to say, "I love you." but it's too late, your heart belongs to her, isn't it?

Bad boy is my favourite kind of persona. With a story of regret when it comes to love because he surely sucks at it. Of dimmed lights, flickered a hope. An empty bed, a lonely night to cope. The cigarettes, his regrets. The air it chokes, his mind rather his throat. Of stills running wild, inside his thoughts. Her touch, a little too much. Her smile, oh he can't help but to smile! Her lips, yes, he tasted it. The heat, drips sweat down his naked torso. To think she would come back, To his arms, to his side, to his bed, And walk back to his door, But darling, there she goes.