The Sinner's Guide To Time Travelling

"Forgive me, for I have sinned", as deadly it may seem.
The bell sounded as they whispered "thanks be to you".
I guess there are things I am not thankful for.

I blink.

It was the first time I saw you. With the same hairpin-curved lips, and eyes that are too hauntingly beautiful to be true. You are straight out of a fantasy. I gazed at your chest, to your hips down to your legs.
This is not a story of Lust.

I blink.

I have no bouquets in hand. Instead, a poem and truths. How my mind is a lame party no one goes to. Except you. You are always the exception.
In my poem, I wrote that "you are my whole universe", I wonder if it is wrong or if it is too much to want to have the whole universe.
This is not a story of Greed.

I blink.

Your lips tastes like cherry blossoms in Autumn. The back of your hand tastes like the month April or May. If you do not know what that tastes like, me neither. It's not like I use my tongue when kissing the back of your hand, it was all just to make you feel "princessy". You kissed back. An intoxication that can withstand a rehab. I still crave for you..
This is not a story of Gluttony.

I blink.
You do not ask anything about anything anymore. You talk to your friends for hours every day and never ran out of things to say. I wonder why when it is just us, it is quiet. I wonder why when we're together, I still feel alone. I wonder if you like your friends' voice better.
This is not a story of envy.

I blink.

Fuck you. Fuck the lies you said. Fuck the bullshit you made up and fuck you for leaving me even when you were the one to blame. Fuck you for leaving me again. Fuck this relationship you never tried to save. Fuck me for chasing after you again. Fuck.
This is not a fucking story of Wrath.

I blink.

I said "no". No one noticed the tears that escaped my eyes, it it time. It is too much. I left. You. Alone. Maybe there is a part of me that hopes, no.. That thinks you will chase after me like I used to do to you. Like it was just your turn now. I never heard anything from you again.
This is not a story of Pride.

I blink.

I am tired of waiting, no.. Of hoping that there is still a chance and I'm tired of the chase. I am the one who left you, you are the victim now. You can embrace the character, but I am also now tired of the play. You see, moving on doesn't require moving. Sometimes you can just lay. Still.
This is not a story of Sloth.

I blink.

"Forgive me for I have sinned", though not as deadly as it may seem.
Time is a carrier pigeon that always comes back to  me.
This is more than sins piling up one after another
You see, of all the sins compared to Love, there is nothing more deadlier.
This is repenting for my sins.
To undergo the same tragedy with strokes of my pen.
To travel time and suffer the same pain all over again.
To write. Until no more ink can describe those that I have seen.
To bleed. Until no more you comes out of me.