When you want to write something
but the words won’t come to you
and you wonder if it’s about vocabulary issues
or just personal issues.
You ask yourself,
why the heck can’t I
write this down
when all I think about
is how I wanted to see the words inked
(maybe, just maybe, it’d help me forget).
You start to doubt the integrity of your craft,
you ask your muse
and get nothing but a sad look
(like, somber and defeated and sorry altogether because you can’t)
You have a lot of words running through
your mind but none has made it past your pen,
none has made it through that wall.
And then you ask your heart why.
Why do you do this to yourself?
Is it not better if you keep it inside your head?
To not have any concrete evidence that such thing existed
(wouldn’t it be easier to forget then?)
You look at your reflection and see your past self,
asking you to please stop.
Stop, stop punishing yourself with memories.
You must remember that there is no sin in loving someone
even if you are not loved in return.
Lovers are not sinners
regardless of any circumstances,
love is the only religion we can all agree on
(funnily enough, love has punished a lot of people – exhibit A: You).
You look at the words you’ve written before
and the shadow of the people behind them.
Will this be the same?
You haven’t forgotten any of them
but time has salved the pain
and all you have now is a hollowness you can’t quite explain.
You look at the paper in front of you
and think of how you’d be reading the words
you’ll eventually pen down in the hopes that it’ll balm your wounded heart.
Will time be enough to let you have a peace of mind?
You look at him and you know the answer
(tomorrow you write, but not today)

Someday, when I'm
Old enough,
brave enough
To have my own
Children,
I'll tell them about you...
About a man
I loved so much,
About how I longed
to hold your back
whenever I'm
walking behind you...
About how I wrote
Love letters and
never let you read
any of them...
About how I prayed
and hoped that
You'd be brave enough
to love me too...
About how I almost
told you Iloveyou
on a New Year's Eve...
Of the teasing smiles
And hapless denials
that broke my heart
every time...
Of the small things
I did to show you
the things I could
never tell...
Someday, when we're
all aged and jaded,
When the heart
No longer fears
rejection,
I will tell my
Children that
You were my first love
And my only
Heartache.

And how I could
Only hope
to tell them that
It was you...
Their father broke
My heart a million
Times but
loved me all the same...

I wanted to tell you
a lot of things,
so I settled for silence.
I thought that
if you understood me
without the words,
you'd get to
understand my
unspoken ones...
But the thing is,
I've written you
thousands of words
of confession,
and you get to read none of them.

Our history is blurred
between your nonchalance
and my loneliness,
we have written our
memories differently,
I kept what I needed,
You left what I wanted.
Between your plain words
and my complicated heart,
I have written the words
you refused to say
and erased the ones
that hurts the most-
This is how I wrote
our history,
heavily edited, and
forever unfinished.

See, I have yet to meet
someone who I can love
more than myself...
I've been alone for so long
that the notion of
someone beside me seems
so foreign.
I figured that if no one
would bother with me,
I would just love me
as I am.
So, I do not need someone
to shower me with affections,
And I can give myself
whatever I want,
I am used to being by myself
that I have resigned to a life
of solitude.
I can be my own lover and
I can be a home to myself.
But you see,
Not needing someone
doesn't mean I do not
want someone.
I can take care of the needs,
It's the wants that keep me hoping...
See, I have yet to meet
someone who can love
me more than myself can...

There will always be someone else who
Loves you more than I do,
I cannot measure their love with my own,
And I do not think love can be measured by
One heart alone, we are all too different from each other,
I have my own ways of loving, so do you,
So do they…
But I do hope there is someone else who
Loves you more than I do –
I am not infallible, I am only human
Promises and sweet words will not be enough
To keep me from making mistakes…
To absolve me of my mistakes...
I will make mistakes, I don’t know when, but
I am sure I will,
So I pray that someone else will love you
More than I can, someone needs to be able to
Pull you from me before I can
Make too many mistakes
Out of loving you
This is not me telling you that
I don’t love you –
Because I do.
And love has blinded many people,
Love has triumphed over history,
And I, I am nothing but a human.
I will, believe me, love you until
It is the only thing that runs my reasons,
Until sanity has left me,
I will always love you in my own way.
It won’t be by your books –
Or by anyone’s, for that matter.
I will love you the way I am wired to love someone
More than myself,
Bare and raw, and painfully human.
So, I am wishing to God,
That someone else loves you more than I do...

I am but
a writer for myself...
But if I can
have one
audience,
Let it be a
wandering
heart.
I am not a destination,
I don't want to be -
My words are
for the passersby...
It would be
an honor to
be a part of a journey.
It would be a
pleasure to keep
your company
as I write these
untold memories...