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Licos1ty

Licos1ty

✨Poet/Writer✨"My literature will know more of you than of who I am, my dear." -Lico🪻

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At last?

To the top.

5 min readSep 16, 2026

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Such an odyssey it is to venture to great heights like this. Despite this, I let my journey in hopes of seeing this with you, I left the comfort of this home of mine venturing far and wide knowing I may never even return back. I might lose myself here — yet, I am all I am in this pinnacle. That in which I am too stubbed into my own head that I forgot what I saw ahead. I was so close to you, at the finish line — I never thought I’d lose my grip that easily and reach out to the clouds instead. It condenses and creates meaning between the packed water inside it. Flying past the horizon, on the floor that I awkwardly stand on — what a view it is, to see this without you. A view unwilling to let me go. Passing by; passing through time, an hour here leads me less. A more amazing thing that I see is a person who somewhat has your figure. Eyes that cannot bewitch me; speaking truth in-between her eyelines, how fair is this situation? How far are you from me? I somewhat understood that I couldn’t ever hold those fingers through mine — I climbed so high and yet I gained lesser than what I hoped for. The descent down is something I haven’t even thought about. Shall I face the same road you were familiar with — or to the strange skyline where I leave my body uncontrollable. I remain oblivious thinking my words would make wishes come true, how insatiable is this? How pathetic am I to be as dense as the very rock I am grounded upon this view. I had one more piece of food with me — I wish I left it back where I was beforehand; starving, I can’t take this to suffice my desire. I’d be walking on eggshells knowing that I may lose my insanity the longer I stride; it never stops, it never ends. However, it knew you beforehand — how is that so? It’s like a story that couldn’t pass its planning stage. Only conflict stays, like a rewinding play when the screen buffers. But why look at cellular devices when you have the entire world at hand. I can’t believe it made me want to take that necessary step to grab onto one last hope. It’s super bad — how can I make that more meaningful that what it is, how should man make when he is feeling first behind the first word. Truly, I rip out the only thing keeping me warm, the skin upon my skin like a blanket touching all my soft spots — if I couldn’t hold yours; maybe then, I could suffice with my own from up here. But what is left up here? The day ends and I reckon my body will be left here forever onward.

Drooping eyes; death comes to me slowly.

I leave my bones uncremated to you.

Ever known of the man who couldn’t live anymore?

The haze reached my pupils; I cry without a reason to — it must be the poison in my throat. Like barbed wire tangling my voice, it doesn’t sound the same, the air here is as tight as the zip lock bag that winces the moment its locked. I looked out; I saw the moment you vanished again. A moment I could never forget; repeating, repeating — reducing my thoughts to numb these words I say. Should I close my eyes now? Should I empty out my insides and find the worms come crawling to me; perfect timing, now nature takes its course on me. That I finally become a place you might climb to see, a stepping stone for you to overcome — a place that you’ll someday climb down too. I knew you liked to hang out in places that ease your mind, in your solitude I hope you’ll find peace with me — even if I’ve rotted down to the ground, yet your favourite roses might bloom on me. How. Wake up, wake the little memories and let it greet you with the kindness I wish it to be. I knew that I couldn’t place the sun into my palm and hand it to you; but this burning passion will be the new sun lighting up your way back. Dying out when you make my flames crackle down. If my skull were to fall off — would you cry for me? Maybe, someday I’ll know until then.

That day in september, I finally realize it’s almost time. Should you not show up is fine after all — how optimistic am I to wait for it.

Two truths come with a lie, lying comes with a purpose; truly, a liar is the one in front of you — saying that he’ll survive this life without you.

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I don’t wanna be another chapter of a life, yet maybe this is where my character development ends — I’ve reached the peak of my story, in another’s story. However, I’ve loved ever so truly. I honestly hate myself because I am myself; how can I not hate the person who couldn’t be better — I’m doing so good that the bees fly upon my chest and think of it as honey, I’m now needed for survival; I miss living, surviving is all I can do now. But to survive this climate is to give up the country for this footnote that doesn’t get tired, never bleeding to the likes of easiness.

You’re my pathway, I’m on the cavalry.

You’re another word I take pride on.

You’re a heart that guides me back.

I miss you through the worst of the best; I try my best to come back to my senses — alas, I’ve gone insane to manage my own sanity. A kind that looks at you with tired eyes, eyes that will probably forever. Your arm is acting out again, I have yet to take it back. I am hungry; death must be a delicious meal that everyone will share. On top of this peak, where a thousand miles are nothing but numbers when you are really interested. I’m not a poet — I used to be, but my melody misses my voice. The warmth that followed me covering me back again, it makes me cry like rainwater pattering outside a window sill.

It’s not just any game, it’s a game that promised me we’d make one together.

I’m still waiting for that offer,

I’m entirely honest to you; my dearest.

My mind starts to race again, too much medication can still kill — I was sick yet I lived through the path of death. I have known my end before anyone did. I tried — how can I push through? I don’t know, but maybe I can understand later on. Reach out your hand; once more, I wish to keep you from harm’s way. My body now unrecognizable. I don’t deserve to be loved, so how is it that I crave the very thing that contradicts who I am too. Nevertheless, this sick view probably will make you want to take a picture — I’ll keep this spot for myself; until you’ll come back of course.

Do not stop.

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Licos1ty
Licos1ty

Written by Licos1ty

✨Poet/Writer✨"My literature will know more of you than of who I am, my dear." -Lico🪻