Nakadungaw ako ngayon sa bintana.
Umiihip yung hangin papasok,
nag-iingay,
tila binubulungan ako ng kalawakan:
“Handa ka ba sa
paparating na katapusan?”
Subalit walang hanggang nakikita
ang kalungkutan na ito.
Sa umpisa palang,
noong sinimulan natin ‘to,
talo na agad ako.
Hinihintay ka na niyang bumalik.
Ako din, mayroong nag-aabang
sa aking pag-uwi.
Hindi nila alam
na nagpapakapasaway tayo.
‘Di nila alam
kung gaano tayo kasaya.
Naaalala mo pa ba yung gabing
bumyahe ako pa-kyusi
para lang makita ka?
Kahit ngayon, habang ako'y nagsusulat,
pinapakinggan ko yung kantang tinugtog mo
nung pagdating ko.
Nasa pinaka-likod ako noon ng inuman, pero
nahanap mo parin ako.
Tapos buong gabi, pasilip-silip ka na —
akala mo di namin nahahalata,
pero yung titig mo’y
sumunog ng landas
patungo sa akin.
Halos binahagi mo ang buong madla.
Sa umagang sumunod,
unang beses mo akong ihatid pauwi,
at unang beses mo rin akong hagkan.
Habang ako’y nagsusulat ngayon,
napapaisip,
hindi ko alam
kung kailan tayo magkikita muli —
Pero sapat na sa akin ang kaalaman na
yinayakap ka niya
tuwing tumutulo ang iyong luha.
Sapat na sa akin
ang makita ang pangalan mo sa telepono
kahit na wala ka namang mensahe.
Sapat na sa akin
na naaalala mo ako,
kahit na paminsan-minsan lang.
Sapat na sa aking ika'y magligaya
kahit na sa dulo ng lahat,
ako yung talo.
Kaya sa ngayon,
maninigarilyo muna ako dito sa bintana,
maghihintay nalang sa susunod na minsang
maalala mo ulit ako.
Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 10:03 AM UTC
The first time I saw him, it was through the glass window of the space that he moved into right around the corner. I thought it was a weird spot to move into but shrugged it off because it was none of my business.
The first time I met him, he was wearing the exact pattern of red and black plaid that I’ve been looking for whenever I shop. I stared at it and felt a little defeated that someone found it before I did! But I made no comment.
The first time I spoke to him, I thought nothing much of him at first. the words I used to describe him were “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”. He was…simple. he spoke like he would steal those cheesy catchphrases like “she was like a shot of espresso” — which is what Andrew Garfield said about Emma Stone. And so I walked out of there as if it was just another Monday.
Several Mondays and cheesy catchphrases later, that little place around the corner that was made of brick started to feel more comfortable, and I saw him more often. Slowly, I realized that there is some charm in simplicity. Eventually, I stopped using the words “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”, and I started using the word: familiar. There is so much comfort in the familiar.
At this point in time I seem to always find myself back at that familiar little brick place around the corner. at the end of each day, I go there hoping to find solace. And I always do. If I was into those cliché phrases I would describe it as a warm cup of hot chocolate after a long, rainy drive. It’s a fireplace during a snowstorm. But saying those cheesy catchphrases would be really lame of me, so…
If I were to put into words how I now feel about this person… This must be how it feels when people are looking for a new place to move into. They have this image of their dream house or fantasy apartment. maybe they picture a place with a marble countertop, a dining table made of mahogany, and a ceiling high enough to hang a glass chandelier from. But then, just as they had given up on searching for that dream place, they come across this little cottage made of brick and hardwood floors. There is a leather couch in the middle. They take a seat. Suddenly, they can picture their life there so clearly: nothing but the pitter-patter of the rain drumming on the window pane, the sound of the coffee machine running in the background, and a slice of chocolate cake waiting for them in the refrigerator. It was the familiar feeling of comfort after a tiring day. It was so far from what they had first pictured, but they are absolutely certain that they want to make a home here.
That is how he feels to me now. So far from what I had pictured, but certainly where I want to be at the end of each day. But the funniest part of all of this is: He was the one that arrived there in the first place. He was the one who moved into that quaint little building around the corner. He was the one who found me. And I am the one waiting here; hoping he finds a home within me.
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 1:13 PM UTC
~
i once swore that i would never pray again.
when i painfully stripped myself of faith
all those years ago,
i took an oath
that I would only treat
the expanse of the universe
as nothing but barren space.
but now, i've lost you,
and i have come to resent this belief.
or, rather,
my lack thereof.
do not misunderstand me.
i do not wish to go back
to the life where I had to offer
each step i take
to a supposed almighty man --
a man who,
with all his power and greatness,
allowed me
to be loved so poorly in the past.
but now, i've lost you,
and i spend each waking moment
staring at the empty space beside me.
this bed used to be an altar
where i could lay my flesh and bones
and you would treat me like
the holy grail itself.
now, the emptiness stares right back
with its mocking eyes,
harshly rubbing salt into the open wound
that sits on my heart.
there is nothing there anymore, yet so much lingers.
now, a part of my soul is hollow.
when there was you,
i sent a piece of my heart
on a journey across the sea
without knowing if i would
ever get it back.
i did it simply because i
submitted to this love
in its entirety.
with all the kilometers of land
and water it stretched over,
all of the sacrifices it demanded,
all of its impossibilities --
i revered it blindly.
but now, i've lost you,
and yet again,
i am stripped of faith.
this time, however,
i was robbed.
i did not wish for this to happen.
now, there is a piece of my heart that wanders
through places i will never know.
there is nothing more for me to do
but desperately send out
silent screams
into the void
like prayers,
hoping that my words
echo through the desolate universe
and across our great divide —
even if, by the time they reach you,
they arrive in mere whispers.
if you can hear me,
i am still here.
and i can feel you out there.
please hold that piece of my heart as an offering, and carry it with you until we meet once more, at the edge of eternity.
thank you for reminding me what devotion feels like.
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 2:52 PM UTC
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold
over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old
behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle
Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.
How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 11:37 AM UTC
Are you still drinking every night?
Who do you scream at now?
Now that I’m not there to bear the brunt of your violent insecurities?
Help is an insufferable waste of air
When the one needing it is in narcissistic denial.
Part of me hopes the crumble of your career
Obliterates your shiny golden god complex.
The rest of me doesn’t give a ****
Because after the years of manipulating and pain
I’ve torn the shackles, broke free
And you don’t mean a god **** thing anymore.
A forgotten false god.
Enjoy your downfall.
I won’t see it from my rightful throne.
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 11:28 AM UTC
I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME
I like to say
your name
when you're
not here
turn you
into sound
conjure you out of
thin air
so that you appear
before me
dressed in sound
only
memory sketching in
the rest of you
as if sound
was just an outline
and love
colours you in
adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.
"Hello you..!"
and there you are
as present
as present
can be.
I like to say
your name
when you're
not there.
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 11:26 AM UTC
I step up to the edge, the breeze blowing my hair.
I close my eyes and I can see it.
My feet leave the ground as my wings catch the wind.
I’m flying.
But, when I open my eyes, I’m not soaring
and my feet are still on solid ground.
What if I fall?
I can’t risk it, that pain.
I look around and see others fearlessly facing the plunge,
but I remain frozen in place.
Scared.
All I can think is, “What if I fall? What if I fall?”
It’s then, in the midst of my frantic thoughts,
That I hear a still, small voice say,
“Yes, but what if you fly?”
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 11:24 AM UTC
She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.
The tune
will carry her.
Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 11:22 AM UTC
The rain resembles the pitter-patter of your words.
Each droplet— a syllable.
The chill— your breath.
I trace the streams of water
trickling down the windowpane
the same way I yearn
to run my fingers
down your skin.
I breathe in the scent wafting off the soil
and my insides warm.
The grey skies are calming,
yet electric,
as your gaze.
The drumming on the rooftop
whispers me to sleep,
gently,
as I allow my mouth to form around
the precipice of your name.
I can almost taste you.
I'm flooded with my longing to bury myself in you.
*Drown me in your storm.
Drench me with your words*.
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 4:30 AM UTC