this boy,
he saw her pastel heart
in the petals of the peonies.

he saw their love
in the blossoming
buds of a magnolia tree.

he was reminded
of her floral scent
in his mom's gardenia patches.

he saw her untamed hair
in the wildflower patches
on the walks home from school.

but darling,
he was just painting flowers
for a girl who
would never love him

and that's okay,
because flowers wither
and so did his love.

you know something?
i've typed your name
on my instagram search feed
a few times
and i think that's probably
the closest thing
i'll ever get to
writing your name
over and over in my marble notebook.

... it's nice to know that you're doing just fine without me.

you know what's sad?
you were my first love
before i even knew what love was
i remember you putting pictures in my cubby
and flowers from your mom's garden
i remember you puffing your chest
and asking my dad if you could take me out for ice cream
i remember you offering to push me on the swings
and trying to steal a kiss when i wasn't looking
i remember you leaving me behind
and me promising that i'd write you
but somewhere between the lines
i lied and you followed along

i'm sorry i didn't reciprocate and i guess i'm paying for it
for all of those times i've seen you in places
that you're really not.

no please,
i like it when you speak to me as if i were, god forbid, human.
i didn't ask for this to happen to me
and i didn't ask for people
to waltz around broken glass and eggshells
as if i were the most delicate of them all

i don't need
hushed whispers and words
stuck between oblivion and physical sound waves
because fear of offending me
clutched at your vocal cords

i know what it feels to be missing a part of myself
and what it means to be holding onto something
that isn't promised to me

i know what it means
to be hiding a part of yourself
for the sake of others

and i plead that you
save yourself the trouble
i've had enough self pity

because now i realize
alopecia
holds you back
from being who you are

it's a safety blanket

it's wishing that you had green eyes
when you were born with brown.

it's as simple as that.

at four i wanted to be a princess
at eight i wanted a prince
at nine i wanted a bad boy
at eleven i wanted my first kiss
at twelve i wanted someone to love me
at thirteen i realized no one cared
at fourteen i wanted attention
at fifteen i stopped being there.

nana,

my love for you is immeasurable. i hold you with fierce love, packed into a brief and firm hug. i try to put all those years of pure love you've had for me and this entire family in a quick brush of my lips to your cheek. i hold you as if it was the last. i've never felt more joy than seeing you at the dinner table, smiling when i gave you some of the hot cocoa i made. hot cocoa, i know. it probably meant nothing to you, just another night at the dinner table. but in that moment, i understood.

i made that hot cocoa with love and i understood why you spent all those years on your feet, hunched over a huge *** of tinola. sinigang. mungo. pancit. i understood the love you put into everything you do, paralleling the love you have for this family.

i remember your face lighting up after taking that first sip. you're diabetic, believe me, i know. sugar is a privilege and your diet is strict. seeing you, with your hands wrapped around the mug and your smile lighting up your eyes. i saw youth. i saw happiness. you laughed. and i did too.

i know i haven't been the greatest granddaughter to you, and i'm sure i'll think of 500 ways i've wronged you in the future. but i just want to immortalize my sentiment, even if you'll never read this. i know i've strayed from tradition. i know i've took the opposite fork in the road. i know i'm not who you hoped i would be. but i also know that regardless you're still proud and that you love me. i just want you to know how much i love you too. and how i hope you understand. i love you.

i asked him
why
why speak with such
sharp words
and exact phrases?

why must it matter so much?
in turn, he quoted twain
cupping my cheeks and saying
"the difference between the right word
and almost the right word
is the difference between lightning
and a lightning bug"
he held his tongue in search for
the perfect word.

and i told him,
love
dear
darling
speak in the vernacular
for we all share the same blood.

oh darling,
you must understand
i never meant for it to be like this
never meant for it to be us
locking eyes
and quickly looking away.

oh darling,
you must believe me when i say
you're merely a figment
of my wild imagination
you don't exist
and if you do -
well it's in my mind

but darling,
don't worry
i'll look for you in
the crescent moon eyes
of a real boy
to call my own.

******* it all
i want to be kissed
and have someone
who cares about me

because it's hardly midnight
and it's hardly
a late night convo

when the only person
that you have to talk to
is yourself.

the kind of girl who craves
falling leaves
and coffee shop loves
with the soft plucks of a guitar
and the vague taste of tobacco
on his tongue

i don’t think you understand what it’s like to feel like you’re lower than the grave six feet under that you wish you were in. i don’t think you understand what it feels like to wish that you carried the burden of a thousand people because they don’t deserve it, but you do. i don’t think you understand that everyday you wish you weren’t alive but yet you still live for the ones you love, because let’s be honest, if you were living for yourself, you would have been dead years ago. but hey, maybe you do understand. because this is adolescent angst and maybe, just maybe, you’ll live through it and see that it does get better.

i'm glad that you love him
and i'm glad that you were there.
i'm sorry that you lost him,
and he's no longer here,

but his memory still remains,
because you are here
to remember and maybe to forget.

you have a beautiful brain
with lovely worlds
and lovely thoughts
and never underestimate that.

you know,
poetry is one
big pile of ****.
or should i say
****?

excuse me,
i hadn't had anymore
euphemisms to spare.

poetry is one big ****
euphemism.

my life *****.
i'm sad.
well ****, no one's ever gonna love me.

but instead,
no i waltz across
these subjects
and pretend all is well
because plate this
**** you have for life
in pure gold
and call it art

and hell,
you'll make ******* millions.

when i was little
i promised to myself
that i'd never be like my brothers.

i promised to myself that i would never
tire of our road trips together
and the hours we had just talking in the car.

but once i hit my teen years,
i understand.
it's been harder to talk to you guys you know.

and as much i want to be your little girl again,
i'm not sure if you want me back.

i regret to inform you
that i am very aware of
my existence

that's you
"a lustrous rainbow-like
play of color"
an oil slick
a soap bubble
a precious stone
different lights
differential refractions
light waves
dark fringes
brings a new hue out of you.
i guess freshman physics
taught me a lot.

how wonderfully terrifying it is
that just in my lifetime alone
i've seen thousands of faces
and out of those thousand faces
i still remember yours

but darling, your divine image
is slowly starting to fade
and with each day,
your face blurs.

the creases in your eyes
smooth out.
the lone dimple
that cratered your cheek
is forgotten.

and slowly,
one
by
one

those wonderful green eyes i once adored
become the green eyes that now belong to the cashier at the grocery
and your sandy hair that i once tousled
becomes the sandy hair of a new love

and just like that your once immaculate image
becomes another face in the crowd.

i am a culmination
of sad eyes
goodbyes
and self hatred
rooted since
youth

"why are you so sad?"

alas,
the question of the century.

why am i so sad?
when will i learn
to get off of the cross
i've nailed myself to
because ******* it,
i am not a martyr.

why am i so sad?
perhaps,
because all
i've ever craved
was freedom?

no,
that's not it.
just today,
i was craving
a donut.

and hell yeah,
i did get it
because i have
such loving parents.

so no,
it's not my home life.
of course it's not perfect,
because if it was,
then i'd never want to leave.

is it school?
i have wonderful friends
and ribbons tacked to my wall
to tell me otherwise.

or perhaps,
it's the fact
that everything
is so structured
that i'm having
such a hard time
believing that
nothing's
ever going to crumble.

meandering through the crevices of your mind sounds delightful.

i want to experience you in the purest of forms.
i want to be blessed with your kiss just before the sun creeps through your blinds
to grace your hallowed cheeks.
i want to paint a picture with an abundance of life
that parallels with the warm blood coursing through your veins.
i want to graze my fingers across your lips
before a single word of self loathing escapes.

i want to engulf you in love
before the hate you have for yourself destroys you.

happiness is being able to
look yourself in the bathroom mirror
at 2 o'clock in the morning
and feeling genuinely happy
with the reflection looking back at you

it's not the fetal position
when your world is hushed
and your thoughts roaring

it's not the claustrophobia clawing
in your chest and your mangled sheets

it's not dancing around
and laughing with your friends
deluding yourself from the truth

there's no such thing as fake it
until you make it,

hey,
remember when i stayed up all night
thinking about all the possibilities
of you and me?

well now i knock out before the clock strikes 12
because i'm done chasing after you,
i've given up.

and there's a certain kind
of emptiness that comes with it
that only the bliss of unconsciousness
can numb.

you used to confide in me,
trusted me with the voice inside your head

but i gave you away and kept
your dreams of being a filmmaker
and the songs you used to strum on your guitar

i have the tendrils of your voice
reminding me of what we once were
and it hurts

tell me, please,
what am i supposed to do
with the stained glass memories
that still filter through my thoughts sometimes?

how do you deal
with someone who trusted
you with everything
but now
all you have
are
gilded memories
replayed one too many times?

pathos

it's a sort of
Petrarchan love
loving within an arms distance
don't get to close to him
he'll see your flushed cheeks
and inevitable smile
and think you're
absolutely pathetic.

ethos

the way you stumble over
your words and
all eloquence
shatters against the wall
as you fall hard for
the smile that reaches
his eyes and your heart
coursing through your veins.

logos

of course
it's not love
you idiot
you're too young for love
and it all ends
in heartbreak anyway.

wow
what an *******
what a jerkwad
what a *******
what a conceited,
selfish, self sacrifical
*******.

what makes you think
that you're stronger
than the rest of us?

what makes you think you can carry
this burden meant for others
and not break?

what makes you think you're not
loved like the rest of us?

what ****** you up so hard in the head
that made you believe that
you're not important?

why are you so quick
so willing
to jump in front of a moving train
if it meant saving another's life?

aren't you only 15?
why are you so tired of living?

insensitive *****
self depricating
pile of trash
oblivious to the
feelings of others
what the **** is wrong with you?

i'm glad i could
be of help
in the process
of boosting
your
self confidence

why do
i feel
like
i'm being
held captive
by the people
i so very love.

when the ache of
you gone
is all consuming

i buy a pack of cigarettes
a new lighter
(i've never smoked before)
and walk around the city

i go to a cornerstone for
a bottle of coke
(sugar makes me sick)
and do all the things you do.

i need you to be my perfect disaster.*
a punch to the face of monotony.
i need a change in my life and I need you to be the change.
i need you to paint the blank walls I built around myself with a deep red.
a passionate red.
i need the red splatter of blood after you realize you've made a grave mistake.
i need you to be the blood that runs clean after being so ***** for so long.
i need you to be the change.

oh dear what a mess we've made of ourselves
eclipsed minds skirting around each other
hoping to never cross paths
our darkest sides never to be revealed
i never meant for it to be like this you know,
you must believe it
crescent moon eyes smiling
to mask our strangled yearns
nebulae of thoughts from galaxies
with supernovas too strong
and black holes that consume us
both of us walking vacuums
void of emotion, void of contact
our planets revolving in different ellipses
and our constellations,
merely stars that will never connect
the universe expands
and how tragic it is that we just grow
farther and farther apart.

i was hoping that
the next time I woke
i would be graced
with the presence of your body next to mine.

to be shielded
from the harsh clutches
of loneliness and desperation
that only you can counteract.

the ache in my heart
was never mine to begin with
a thief who feels too deep
and a coward who does so little

too afraid to live
vicariously living
through others' lives.

Maybe the stars are sad too
singing bright
with their tears.
paralyzed with sadness and
unable to move

maybe they’re sad
seeing each others’ beauty
but never their own
sad because they’ll never touch
sad because they’re stuck
in a cold, dark vacuum
that we call space.

maybe we’re all just stars.

"my god"
how conceited
how vain
how naive
of you to believe
that you're the only one
who feels pain
come back to earth
isn't the lack of oxygen
getting to that head of yours?

sometimes
my heart swells
but lately
it's from
the thought
of you and i
bundled up
with your lips
pressed
against my forehead.

sorry love,
i hate to break it to you
but we are all just minds
skirting around the idea
called the truth
instead,
we mask it
and veil it
with these tools
we call words
and in turn
the euphemisms
of our raw
thoughts
are diluted
and strained
and
never
to
be
taken
seriously.

I'm a gaping void
A walking mannequin
On autopilot

I'm submerged in ice cold water
Numbing my lips
Icing my soul

My fingers yearn for your touch
And the breadth of loneliness
Reaches farther than my thoughts

Darling, it would take light years to reach you
But yet I still wait
Drifting
And waiting to be whole again

oh dear,
you reek of self loathing
and cynicism
i'm surprised you haven't
fallen off that *******
cross you nailed yourself on
and i'm sorry for the crude metaphor
but really i'm not
because this god didn't die
on the cross
just so you could hate yourself
and wallow in self pity

love, you're hardly sixteen
but i'm starting to think
you're digging yourself
a grave sixteen
feet under

does it tire you
hating yourself
because baby,
you're not the only one
without a perfect mommy or daddy

honey,
please step off that pedestal
you've put yourself on

my dearest,
i just fear
you might
tumble right off.

what do you do
when loneliness makes a home
in your very bones
and your skin crawls
with emptiness?

your heart thumps
to the discord
of piano keys
and the ache
tingles and pumps
ice through
your human veins?

Um
Anxiety. Pain. Fear.
Crippling me
A cocktail of narcotics
Succumbing me
Into blatant
Paralysis.
How can you feel
So much
Yet care
So little?

she tells herself it's much better
that these wine stained lips
are better that blood stained floors
and that these lapses in consciousness
are better than collapses on floors.

let me tell you about my father
who loved me
and my two brothers
at an arms length

on one end he held the world
for us and the other
held a rope that led
to the noose around his neck

he told us
he'd **** himself
before he'd let anything happen to us

and when they found
my eldest brother comatose and
sprawled across the linoleum tiles
at a ******* college party

day seven came and
he prayed to the devil
because apparently
god wasn't listening

well,
my brother's alive and well now
and every night
i pray for my father's soul.

i've come to stop believing in love
and that's why i've stopped writing
poetry.

i've never been one for fantasy anyway.

so you aren't my ideal boy
but somehow
the thoughts of you
steeped into my mind
like the tea i drink
late at night while talking to you
and somehow your smile
that vaguely resembles a fish
makes me smile at the very thought
you tell me about the girl you like
and although it isn't me
seeing your eyes sparkle
and your voice waver
and the uncertainty of
the way she looks at you
breaks my heart.

remember when we weren't?

remember when you drew me pictures
under the oak tree in the school yard?

remember when we kicked our feet so high
in hopes of beating each other in swinging contests?

remember when you gave me blossoms
from the boughs of your family's magnolia tree?

remember when our brothers were best friends
and we were partners in crime?

remember when you sat in the peanut-free table
and i followed because we would be together forever?

well i remember the day you told me you were moving
and forever barely lasted a month.

Never would I have thought
I'd come to dread
The many choices I have

How rude of me
To feel claustrophobic
Feeling run over
By the crossroads

I'm sorry for being
A privileged girl
In a first world country

Sorry for dreading my choices
In a world
Where I have the blessing
To have so many.

you know,
i'm really tired
of being the girl
that hates herself
and i'm really trying
to change that, i swear.

sometimes i wish you had left.
much cleaner and more efficient

i don't need endless miles
of jagged cuts
and the flames of your tongue
licking them open.

i wish i had
the comfort of an imaginary father
so i could pretend he wasn't who you are now.

you're here, i suppose
and there's no denying that.