the cont.
forlorn thorns
and sweet peace,
were carried out like
leaves of trees.
she thought
her "love" was
ineffable.
in those ephemeral
moments when
infatuation seemed love
and
lassitude was masked with
scintilla of joy,
nothing hurt like
the words,
"i'm sorry,
we're over."
tears leaked
from the sparkle
of his eyes,
a plethora of
sadness woke
from its dormant
slumber,
waiting for the clock
to tick and tock.
he may have hoped
for a sanguine
ending, which she
did too,
but the paradox of life
led her to decide
that love was far
from over, near,
and ever after.
she was ebullience
and she hoped he was too.
Nov 3, 2022
Nov 3, 2022 at 9:20 AM UTC
i open my eyes,
each sunrise
to feel
his warm breeze.
i walk the pavements
of wisdom
just to sense
his saturated touch.
i look up and witness
the horizontal thin layers
of autumn skies,
forcefully done
like his breathless goodbyes.
yes, there were
ambivalence
at first.
or maybe,
there weren't
who knows?
i had to
do
what i did
just to
dissemble
the fact that-
that there were fear
in her eyes,
yours truly,
and yes,
i was able.
although
languor
caressed my cheeks
like no one else did
my mind
my heart,
up to my thalamus
down to my tummy butterflies,
i was filled
with
mild
jubilation.
felicitous
thoughts
overflowed,
like halcyon notes
and waves
refracted on the walls,
and scenic moonshine
and sun rays
draw my days like
it was them
asking me
to saunter,
and to murmur
the words
"you" wanted to hear
but the sound
the keycaps make
doesn't end
with simple
"hey and hello"
it actually started
with a "ping"
and there she goes:
"hey, i have
a not-so-huge crush
on you,
a tiny little crush,
like vapors
no roar."
thirteen nights passed,
thirteen days trashed,
she thought t'was done,
over, capped,
she thought that
it was just a snippet of
likeness and will
soon conclude.
so, step 1: deny? maybe
i was wrong? or was he?
step 2: wrath! rant?
oh trust me, she had
thirteen people to chat
step 3: no more bargains,
no more trades,
no room for sadness
just proceed with
step 5: acceptance
but.
he said but this:
"your name, yes yours
were the first
to enter in this
quadrilateral dialogue
box, and yes
thirteen moons passed
and still, you're
all that "cached"
in my memory,
not too blurry to skim
and not too
drunken to spill."
there he and she started
typing the cynosure
story.
maybe i like you,
or maybe i don't
and today,
this day,
this night,
is when you'll see
and
when you'll hear
with your human lens
and mundane ears
what we are
how we are
and what we may be
and that is the
denouement
of our story,
so,
this is my proposal:
thirteen days sketched to three
Nov 3, 2022
Nov 3, 2022 at 9:20 AM UTC
maybe not
exactly a
panoply,
maybe not
really a being
of quintessential
remarks,
maybe not
a person who's
a redolent
of anyone,
maybe not,
maybe not,
or maybe yes?
"you"
bucolic,
idyllic,
scenic,
and
a voice of music,
a cynosure
perhaps?
you, yes you,
you,
always have been.
,
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 1:28 PM UTC
yes, there were
ambivalence
at first.
or maybe,
there weren't
who knows?
i had to
do
what i did
just to
dissemble
yours truly,
and yes,
i was able.
although
languor
caressed my cheeks
like no one else did
my mind
and heart
was filled
with
mild
jubilation.
felicitous
thoughts
overflowed,
halcyon notes
and waves
refracted on the walls,
and scenic moonshine
and sun rays
draw my days like
it was them
asking me
to saunter,
and to murmur
the words
i like you,
and that is the
denouement
of our story,
so,
will you be
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 1:22 PM UTC
his eyes,
still.
his hair,
thick.
his person,
so dear.
standing amidst
the bordeline
of darkness
and
of hope,
he widened his arms,
reached towards her,
the anchor
of his
in between
till
his last
breathe
disappeared.
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 1:00 PM UTC
the affirmation
that this
limerence fate
we should have had,
caused us great
surrender to
the despotic
actuality.
and that
made us this
and this
is all we
first had.
Apr 1, 2022
Apr 1, 2022 at 9:12 AM UTC
she
beyond the desperate
twinkle in her eyes,
lies prestigious
gestures that
only he understands.
it's the way
irony wraps
itself, tight
in her arms,
then her hands,
her legs,
then her feet,
and one day
she found out,
she was covered
in a hoax
of adoration.
he
the crevice
behind the
face of trauma
lies a beam
of serendipity,
of love,
and of liberation.
it's funny
how moments
like this
collide like
atomic particles,
it makes us
feel heat,
light,
and life.
they
and there
they were,
in complete
awe of such
luminance,
faded
and branded
in the cromulent
beautiful skies
of wonders
and of idyllic
setting.
Apr 1, 2022
Apr 1, 2022 at 9:12 AM UTC
the world
in between
smiles
hidden within
you were
like the stars
beneath the
blazing city lights,
too high, too low
too far, too close.
because you are
because i am,
we met and
beyond the crusade
of endless petrichor
there we sang
the hymn of long lost halves.
Apr 1, 2022
Apr 1, 2022 at 9:11 AM UTC
The unseen picture of Christ lies beyond my own imagery
The Phantom of the Opera of everyone’s dreams
The sweet mother in labor of my infancy
And the righteous guide of my infamy
With him are the Angels of the heavens
The spiritual guardians who guards us twenty-four seven
The winged creature who dances along those dazzling seasonal winds
That covered my dreams with lights of dim
The spring that flower and fly, the rebirth of love
The summer that warmed my dream, the youth of love
The autumn that rained the picture with leaves, the adolescent of love
& the snowflakes that blacken my fantasy, the death of love
Those four seasons of love that crushed the idea of eternity
But with God, forever you live, soul in state of serenity
With the Angels and Christ, you’re free
of dreaming your own dreams and fantasies
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 11:23 AM UTC