is the sadness
not sad enough
to make me feel
anymore?
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
I am writing. I am trying to write, rather. Because despite the number of books I carry on my back every day, I seem to feel the heaviness of the world more vividly, all the layers of sadness, all the in-betweens. I write because pain continues to follow the trail I try so hard to erase. My grief will never be enough to be noticed and there is no consolation after this. I try to write because there is no other way. I try to write because at the end of each day defeat seems to welcome me home and sleep has become an escape instead of a place to rest and waking up feels like an obligation rather than a gift. I am writing not because I am ungrateful but because no one listens except for the pulse I put in my pen. I try to write because I can never say it out loud. I don't know what this is but it has rendered me silent.
I write because emptiness shouldn't weigh this heavy.
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
i must have been colorblind when
i first saw love
when i thought it had brown eyes
and tan skin
when i thought it looked good
in polaroids around my bedroom wall
i must have been colorblind when
i saw love
when i saw his hand holding mine
palms warm, fingers intertwined
i must have been colorblind
when i saw love
taking photographs of me
in a bookstore
skimming through the pages
of a book he'll never read
i was blind
when i lost love
somewhere in the crowd
when i let love go
when love never looked back.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 12:09 PM UTC
We stayed at the rooftop that night. Watching the cars come and go, the people crossing the road.
Silence filled in the gaps we never could and it was alright, we were alright.
We were quite a long way from home
and you were homesick because I could not provide you a home anymore. I thought we were still alright.
It's not that I didn't notice you were slipping away. I did, I did.
But I just thought we were almost perfect,
then I realized I was the one who loved more.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
how cruel
is fate
when it decided to
take you from me
without a word
without a kiss
there must be
some compensation
in this sadness
in this newfound loneliness
there must be
some reward
for those who endures
this one-sided affair
there must be
some love
amid the betrayal
because you have been taken from me
without permission
without warning
nothing
but an uneasiness
during that jeepney ride
from home to school
and tears
all throughout my life
this world
is so unforgiving sometimes.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
it was a late afternoon
when I opened
myself
naked and bare
to the heavens above
nobody listened
not a single deity
rescued me
the same day
that evening
when all the world
was silent and still
I prayed again
hoping that this time
someone would hear
the only voice
that was near
in between the night
and the daylight
there I would wake
in between its heartbeat
across the sky
mourning
for my own life
mourning for a death
that has not happened yet.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 4:45 AM UTC
let a broken girl
pick me up
from among
these beautiful bunch
and carry me around
and call me beautiful
while my petals fall
on every path
her feet treads on
while I am wilting
in her hands.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
death leaves
an awful aftertaste
that only surfaces
long after you've taken a sip
it will numb your senses
it will strip beauty off of things
it will blur the most beautiful photographs
it makes waterfalls out of your eyes
and in between
the night
and the daylight
it will wake you up
it will make you wonder
why it hurts so much
why you were given a taste
why you're still alive.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
That morning, when I left for school, I kept on looking back as I walked away. There was this feeling inside of me, something tell me that I left something, that I had to back. But I didn't. I walked to the terminal and got on the jeepney.
I wasn't even halfway yet to school when I got a call. A trembling voice on the other end of the line told me she was gone. I knew who she meant but I had to ask again. I got the same answer.
I cried all the way to school. Everyone told me I should go back. I did. And I cried all the way home. As I got nearer, my heart felt heavier and there was a lump in my throat that I couldn't seem to swallow.
I came back at the wrong time.
I came back when it was too late.
I should have walked back home that morning. I should have entered the house and kissed her goodbye instead of walking away.
I wish I didn't need to write about this.
Six months later and I still am.
Six months later and it still won't sink in, the pain just surfaces.
Six months of coming home to an empty bed in your room.
Six months of no goodbye kisses and no embraces. I wonder how I even made it this far.
Six months of feeling alone in this home.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
I want you to dream
when you're awake
so please wake up
please come back
it's better here
it's better here....
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC