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Jan 25 · 399
Heaven is Closed Tonight
Blckstr Jan 25
Lucy, cut the rope for a moment
the ceiling is not too strong
to lift the weight of your angst;
Lucy, open the timeworn window
because heaven is closed tonight;
take a look outside, Lucy,
stars are dancing in the sky;
take a look outside, Lucy,
the dusk is waving you goodbye.

The bullet is running away this time,
so put the gun down, Lucy;
the floor is not yet ready
to taste the sad trace of your blood;
walk out of your hell, Lucy,
the rain has stopped burning outside;
don’t try to walk in, Lucy,
because heaven is closed tonight.

Lucy, close your weary eyes;
darkness is too blinding
that it makes you want to kiss the fire
when your sharp tears
rip your soft heart out;
don’t be deceived, Lucy,
by the shadows climbing up the walls,
don’t try to come undone, Lucy,
there’s an angel waiting for your call.

Put the knife down, Lucy,
throw the evil pills away;
step out of your room Lucy,
the light is knocking at your gate;
hold on to the rope for a moment
this is just a single nightmare,
step out of the golden stairs,
do not climb up yet this time;
do not walk in yet, Lucy,
heaven is still closed tonight.
Oct 2019 · 348
A Sin Made of Love
Blckstr Oct 2019
You taught me how to fall in love
with a seraph riding a lightning
made of heaven’s wrath;
the first time you touched my heart,
my innocence was crushed
as though the cherubim
plucked the forbidden fruit
and made me eat it
in the garden of pleasure –
it tasted like love,
the same one that wafted with
the smoke of your cigarette
when our tongues intertwined
inside a wretched shrine;

honey, you made me fall in love
with the bittersweet sin
and inescapable pit of pain;
you locked me up
in a dungeon
you built out of heartbeats
and sordid lies,
and I was so naïve
to embrace the flaming bars
when they were still open;
instead of leaving,
I let you chain me
with your ferocity,
I let you ravage my heart
in a lake of fire and brimstone
just to keep the hymn
of our bodies
echoing with the sound
of the seventh trumpet,
I let you drown me
in the blood of my own;
you stole my devotion
and fooled me
that the wounds you put on my skin
were a sacrificial lamb
for keeping the fire
of our love burning on,
but every time the blade
dug deeper in my body,
it just hurt
and hurt
and hurt
without feeling
the slightest touch of your love;
maybe you never even had it
in the first place;
maybe I shouldn't have let the beast
grow darker behind the light,
maybe I shouldn't have let the serpent
bite my heart
for an elated judgment;

honey, I crawled out of Eden
just to kiss you under the morning star;
had I known we’d just come undone,
I wouldn’t have let my wings
touch the fire
just to fly with you
beyond the seventh heaven.
May 2019 · 641
I Never Really Loved You
Blckstr May 2019
I only stayed with you
because I wanted to have someone
I could be with
along the road of emptiness
when everything was breaking apart
and my bruised heart
was craving for a scrumptious remedy.

Darling, I never really loved you!
I justed wanted to have someone
who would hold my hand
under the starless sky
as I held my scarred pen
and overly tattered papers;
Darling, I only stayed with you
for I needed a muse
that I could use
in writing poetry and proses;
and those comely roses
I had given you
were only meant for fragrance
that could make my words
attractive enough
to be read and heard;
and those kisses we shared
in the middle of the nights
were only meant for sweetening
the dull ink of my pen;
and those poems I gave you
were not really written for you –
I wrote them for myself.

Darling, I stayed with you
not because I loved you,
but because I just needed you.

Darling, I never really loved you –

I never really loved you
until I broke your heart;
I never really loved you
until I broke my own heart;

I never noticed that my heart
was actually beating for you
until you fell out of love from me;
I never knew that my life
would be incomplete
until you left me alone –

until you left this world;
until you finally met Death.

Darling, it's too late;
it was too late for me to realize
what I've been feeling towards you
I've been falling in love with you –

I'm falling apart for you.
May 2019 · 888
Just a Typical Broken Story
Blckstr May 2019
Do you still remember
how we stepped into the pages of a book
and lost ourselves
amid the world of romanticized words?
I mean,
do you still remember the time
when we were writing our love story
between the spaces
of unbreakable compound words?

I mean,
do you still remember
the smell of the old books
we used to get addicted to
and how we fondly read them
on our favorite wooden bench
by the rusty, timeworn streetlamp?

I mean,
have you already forgotten
how it felt to turn to the next chapter
of an underrated novel
while our hands were interlocked
with the mysteries of never-ending heartbeats?

I mean,
I still remember
how we embraced the warmth
of "I love you's" and "I miss you's"
and how they slowly turned
into obsolete phrases
swimming away from your tongue.

I mean,
I still remember
the bittersweet aftertaste
of your kisses,
of your tender hugs,
of your love poems,
of our love story
you chose to burn to ash.

Darling, I still want you
to come back for me;
I mean,
I still want to continue
everything we have started –
the bouquet of rose-scented words
and the proses we once had read
and we had written
beneath the starlit ceiling
of ever-burning feelings.

Darling, I'm still terribly in love
with the heartache
I once had felt
while holding your hand;
I mean,
I'm still stuck
inside a love-spangled book
you have ended with tragedy.
I mean,
I should've just refused
to begin our story
when I still had the chance
to create a better one
with someone else –
with someone who's way better than you,
because now,
my heart is already tired enough
to write a new one
that can make me end
my broken love for you.
Apr 2019 · 572
You're Still My Poetry
Blckstr Apr 2019
You ripped me apart
until the shards of my heart
lost their way
to be whole again.
For so long,
I’ve tried to fix myself
and normalize everything
while living
in a caricature of a broken love
and in a pad of shattered words,
but you know what,
my foolishness
still messes
and still misses your lies
and every ***** thing
that made me fall
in love with you .
My late night thoughts
still flood my head
with artworks
that portray your face,
and the paper
of my shattered poetry
still screams
the sound of your name
between the spaces
reserved for your return.
Maybe I’m stupid enough
to still wish
for you to find
your way back to me.
Maybe I’m dumb enough
to still want
to have a taste
of the storm
that once destroyed me.
I want to find
the self I lost
the moment
you found your way
away from me,
but my head
is still coming back
to the memories
that make me
lose myself
a little more.
I want to forget
every little thing
about us,
because these
little things hurt me the most.
I want to stop
writing you
countless poems;
but then again,
all my poems
are still named after you,
all my words
still long for you,
because darling,
you are still my poetry,
you are still my favorite kind of tragedy,
and I still can't get over you.
Blckstr Apr 2019
You tasted like magic
of the music at a party,
a little like an addictive
champagne on a night
of ecstasy and dancing lights.
We danced to the rhythm
of our lost heartbeats
like a couple of strangers
soaring to the heights
of bliss and crazy starlights.
You were the rest and relief
after an exhausting week,
and I wrapped my arms around you
to feel some electrified sensation
that would soothe my body
on a cozy bed of unfamiliar sheets
or on a dancing floor of drunk souls.
The vibration of the midnight tune
crawled over our skins
as though the healing melody
touched our deep-rooted wounds.
It felt so nice,
I thought you could mend me.
I kissed you in the breadth
of pain and pleasure,
thinking that the confectionery
flowing from your lips
was an eternal satisfaction.
I kissed you in the middle
of darkness and disco *****,
in the middle of strange crowd
dancing in a room of broken bottles
and noisy harmony of heartbeats.
I kissed you like a Friday night,
and I found myself
on a Saturday dawn
in the middle of the road
having a hangover
from the music of your heart
and the bittersweet taste of your lips.

I kissed you like a beer.
I loved you like a stranger.
I lost you like a lover.
Feb 2019 · 1.0k
Some Nights
Blckstr Feb 2019
Some nights are meant
for writing poetry;
for bleeding all the pain out;
for mending the emotional cuts;
for trying to make everything right;
for standing up with a fight
through scribbling all the breaking
words and phrases
my tongue held back
back then.
Some nights are meant
for stealing the stars
from the sky
one at a time
just to light my life up.
Some nights are meant
for dragging the best constellation
in the sky
to put it on my dried lips
so I can have a
brightest smile.
Some nights are meant
for burying all the mournful nights;
but every I-have-still-woken-up day
is seemingly meant
for digging all the pain inside.
Blckstr Feb 2019
I –
I am a demon perishing
from fire to fire,
with maggots crawling
over my scorching skin,
thorns ****** into my heart,
horns ****** into my head,
born to bring chaos
a forsaken soul in the underworld,
forbidden to feel Love –
yet my heart fell for you.

You –  
You are made of halo
and sanctified wings –
a creature molded with purity
a creature with precious beauty.
You are a special creation
in this complicated cosmos;
and if there’s more special
about you,
it’s the fate that you
fell in love with a demon like me.

We –
We are the bittersweet
flavor of ice and fire,
ultimately contrasting,
heavenly and hellishly
forbidden to be with each other.
Whenever our lips conspire,
everything is falling apart.
The heaven and hell
roar between us
as we stay together.
Maybe we’re not meant
for each other.

We are torn between
loving each other
and dissociating
with each other.
You rip your wings apart,
throw your halo away,
and discard everything you have
just to be with me.
But I choose to walk away
and dive into the deepest hell
because I know,
Love won’t do anything good
for the both of us.

I love you
and you love me,
but maybe –
just because we love each other
doesn’t mean we’re meant to be.
Inspired by Avril Lavigne's "I Fell in Love with the Devil"
Feb 2019 · 341
Distant World
Blckstr Feb 2019
I wonder what
you’re thinking about
right now.
Maybe you’re traveling
over a book
while watching the sun set
upon the horizon,
or maybe you’re writing
a new tragic story
there by the auburn sea
while waiting for the moon
to rise up.
This distance that separates us
breaks me into pieces –
like the sand that slips
into the spaces
of my fingers –
I’m losing every
part of me.
I wish you were here with me
to join me waiting
for the stars to come out
one after another,
but no –
we’re beyond miles apart.
Maybe by now,
you’re reading a love story
while holding the hands
of your lover,
maybe you’re watching
the sunset
at the shore together,
because I know,
you loved the reflection of the sun
between 5 and 6 PM
on the warm water of the sea.
You loved the soothing breeze
in the breadth of
late afternoon
and early night.
You loved everything about the sea,
and I’m drowning in the thought
of you without here beside me.
I wish I were there with you.
I wish I could drag you into my world.
I wish I could drag your world into mine.
But I know, some wishes
would not easily be granted
even by the brightest stars
in the darkest sky.
I wish we would still meet again,
maybe not soon,
maybe after forever –
when distance
won’t matter
I know you’re resting
on your paradise,
and unluckily
I’m grieving in this hell
they call “graveyard” –
the cradle of your bones.

I’m wishing not upon the stars,
but upon the pieces of warm sand
on your grayish seashore.
Please, let our souls
intertwine even just
for once –
perhaps not now,
perhaps not soon –
after forever.
Feb 2019 · 301
Bones under My Bed
Blckstr Feb 2019
When I was young,
I used to believe
that there were
creepy monsters
under my bed,
but as years went by,
those monsters
turned out to be
a bundle of rotten bones,
the remnants of broken
dreams that were buried
in the graveyard
of my memories.

When I was young,
I used to shroud
myself with a blanket
just to hide from
the monsters
that scared me every night,
but by and by,
that blanket turned
into a shabby casket,
my pillow turned
into a headstone,
and my silent cries
an epitaph
of a horrible tone
that once surrounded
my unsound life.

When I was young,
my bed used to be
an occasional sanctuary
of my shuddering body,
but when ages
slithered through my skin,
it has become
a perpetual churchyard
of my own corpse.
And this morning,
I was woken
by the stench
of my barbed bones –
a skeleton
of my own melancholy,
the scars of my past
that made me
a stowaway
in a tricky journey
of a dead future.

This morning,
I was woken
by the nostalgic air
crawling over my body.
The remains of my existence
are lying on the floor,
drowning in my blood –
smelled like a trace
of the memoir
I have failed to dig out
of the depth of time.

This morning,
I was woken
by the rotten
and barbed bones
I seemingly own.
I’m trying to revive
the remnants
under my bed,
just so I could escape
the cage I, myself, have built,
just so I could obliterate
the scars that made me wilt,
just so I could forget
that I have hurt myself so hard
just to ease the pain inside.
But maybe,
the remnant
will forever be
a remnant.
What’s under my bed
will no longer wake
from the graveyard of death.
Feb 2019 · 253
In Another World
Blckstr Feb 2019
It often feels like
I’m living in the moon,
for this isolation
that drowns
and downs me
makes me feel I am.
Whenever I’m alone
in my room,
the wall feels like
a galaxy of crying stars
and my bed
a constellation of scars.
I wonder how it feels
to escape a world
I’ve never loved
to call my home,
because if it really is,
why do I feel
like losing my breath
for a thousand years?
Why does it feel like
I’m a thousand light years
away from everyone?
I wonder how it feels
to be one
of the stars in the sky…
Well, looking up at the sky
makes me ask myself,
does any one
of the stars above
also feel alone,
despite having the company
of its own kind?
If there is,
I’d gladly join it
being alone
and lonely,
like we’ll just wound
one another
and let no one
mend us
until we explode.
Sometimes, I seek
for another world
and lose everything
I have right now –
just to find something
I can find happiness from.
Maybe, in another world,
I won’t feel alone anymore.
Maybe in another world,
I won’t feel gone and forgotten.
Maybe in different world,
I won’t feel indifferent
to myself anymore.
Feb 2019 · 250
Bones under My Bed
Blckstr Feb 2019
When I was young,
I used to believe
that there were
creepy monsters
under my bed,
but as years went by,
those monsters
turned out to be
a bundle of rotten bones,
the remnants of broken
dreams that were buried
in the graveyard
of my memories.

When I was young,
I used to shroud
myself with a blanket
just to hide from
the monsters
that scared me every night,
but by and by,
that blanket turned
into a shabby casket,
my pillow turned
into a headstone,
and my silent cries
an epitaph
of a horrible tone
that once surrounded
my unsound life.

When I was young,
my bed used to be
an occasional sanctuary
of my shuddering body,
but when ages
slithered through my skin,
it has become
a perpetual churchyard
of my own corpse.
And this morning,
I was woken
by the stench
of my barbed bones –
a skeleton
of my own melancholy,
the scars of my past
that made me
a stowaway
in a tricky journey
of a dead future.

This morning,
I was woken
by the nostalgic air
crawling over my body.
The remains of my existence
are lying on the floor,
drowning in my blood –
smelled like a trace
of the memoir
I have failed to dig out
of the depth of time.

This morning,
I was woken
by the rotten
and barbed bones
I seemingly own.
I’m trying to revive
the remnants
under my bed,
just so I could escape
the cage I, myself, have built,
just so I could obliterate
the scars that made me wilt,
just so I could forget
that I have hurt myself so hard
just to ease the pain inside.
But maybe,
the remnant
will forever be
a remnant.
What’s under my bed
will no longer wake
from the graveyard of death.
Jan 2019 · 269
Broken Reminiscences
Blckstr Jan 2019
Here's to hoping that someday,
looking back at the past
will no longer feel
like an aftertaste of a nightmare,
and wishing upon a star
will no longer feel
like stumbling upon my fear.
Someday, I won't see you anymore
from the old books
that tell our broken story,
and my longing poetry
will no longer bleed
out of the memories
we made
from the currents of the seas;
from the sound of the zephyr
as we drank and got wasted
on a starlit rooftop;
from the backseat
of my nostalgic car;
or from the heartbeat
and broken "I love you's"
that molded our scars.
Someday, I will no longer
cry with some bottles of gin
just to try healing
the wounds I got
from failing to win
the battles of our love.
Someday, Paramore's songs
will no longer sound
like you're still the only exception,
like you're sill the one
who wants to fool with me,
like you're still the one
who wants to hear my sad songs
and wants to feel my pain.
Darling, someday,
I'll be able to find happiness
from the memories
that broke our hearts.
I'll be able to see an art
from reminiscing
about the saddest part
of our past.
Darling, someday,
all these memories
will no longer pull
the tears from my eyes,
but rather push my lips to smile.
and I hope that day will still come.
Jan 2019 · 253
A Writer's Wariness
Blckstr Jan 2019
Poetry has become my home
since the day I lost myself.
All of the disappointments
and unfamiliar loneliness
turned into crocheted words
in my hazy world.
My heartbeat creates an ink
out of my monochromatic blood,
and I find it so artistic
how my hand
trudges over a piece of paper
and makes a confection
out of the ink
that defines my isolation.

All of the broken memories
have given me thousand wounds
but have made to keep
my letters intact;
and somewhere
between the corners
of my shabby papers,
I try to find for the remedy,
thinking that,
my wounds turn into words,
so maybe,
words may also be the bandage
for my wounded heart;
but maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe, my poetry
is not a remedy;
it is a euthanasia for myself
that I do on my own;
and foolishly,
I do it frequently -
for my satisfaction.

I try to heal myself
through poetry,
but I wonder what happens
after getting the remedy.
I've found poetry after losing myself.
Would I be losing it
after finding myself again?

Words have become the blood
spurting out of my wounds.
It is the will to heal
that keeps my hand scribbling
the pain out of me.
I wonder, if I start healing,
will I still be able to continue writing?
Jan 2019 · 259
Love Me Poetically
Blckstr Jan 2019
Stop saying you love me
or telling me
I'm the only man
you've ever loved.
Stop holding my hand
while standing
on the edge of a cliff
and whispering
that you're falling for me
every time
you look at my eyes.
Don't even tell me
you can jump off the clouds
and swim the vast, dark sky
just to find me
whenever I'm losing
my own self.

write me poems,
much like how
I've written hundreds for you.
Make me poetry.
Let me be the subject
and imagery of your words.
Write my name
within the stanzas
and lines of your pieces.
Mark your kisses
between a simile
and a hyperbole.
Love me like you can build
a library
inside your heart.
Scribble my existence
like an everlasting art.

Darling, love me poetically.
Let me turn into a poetry.
Let me turn into your poetry,
like how you've become one.
Jan 2019 · 246
To be Broken with Someone
Blckstr Jan 2019
Sometimes, I want
to be broken with someone –
someone I can be with
as I watch every single star
pass out in the night sky.
I want someone
I can share my sadness with
as she shares hers.
I want to be alone with someone –
someone I can be lonely with
as I wait for the sun
to set by the sea,
romanticizing every
broken memory
that still stays
in my heart.
I know that my heart
has already been broken,
but I would love
to be much more broken,
knowing that there's someone
who's been broken as I am.
I would love
to hear someone say,
"Let's break ourselves
until we can't be broken anymore."
"Let's break ourselves
until no one
would no longer dare
to break us
into smallest
and weakest
version of ourselves."
It's quite crazy
to want something like this;
but I would definitely love
to have someone
I can show how broken I am –
someone I can be lonely with –
someone I can be  broken with,
as we both feel
the beat of brokenness
and emptiness,
but would not dare
to complete each other;
because sometimes,
and emptiness
can make us feel whole.
Jan 2019 · 243
Find your Life
Blckstr Jan 2019
Please stop
burying your heart
in the graveyard
of a melancholic art –
depicting an image
of a burning sky.
Stop the turmoil
of your shaking ground.
You’re not bound
to suffer in the depths
of your own haunted sound.
It’s not a notable music to keep.
You don’t have to weep
as you watch
your flowers wither
one after another.
Darling, plant new ones
or let the stars
bloom in your garden.
You don’t have to meander
through the valley
of melancholy
just to let every single night
pass by –
as if you’re living
just to survive.
Darling, that is not how life
should be lived.
You don’t have to lie
on your bed all day,
making yourself believe
that you’re a sobbing corpse
inside your coffin.
Darling, you’re alive,
and if you’re telling me
that you’re long dead,
let your eyes
wander the night sky.
Maybe along the constellations
of a thousand stars,
you’ll find life –
you’ll find your life;
because darling, I did,
and now,  I’m trying to revive mine.
Jan 2019 · 225
Emotional Eruption
Blckstr Jan 2019
I am a mellow song
that’s used to silently hiding
somewhere between
the lines of a tragic poetry;
but sometimes,
I become a messed up sound,
and all of the serene rhythms
of my metaphors
get thunderous
and clangorous;
because sometimes,
my fear and my own horrible phantasm
get fused and turn into a deafening music
or a destructive earthquake
that even I can’t handle by myself.
All of the horrible heat
from the deepest part
of my heart
gets rising until
it comes out of my mouth.
I shout loud
at the solemn sky,
but sometimes at people.
This is where I hurt people.
Sometimes, everyone
reminds me of the ghosts
that haunt me every night,
so the sharpest words
slip out of my tongue
like a magma
that turns into lava
and wounds others’ hearts.
My own heart
shakes until it creates
a tragedy
or a catastrophe
for everybody.
Sometimes, everyone
reminds me of the death-like voices
that keep reverberating in my head,
and keep making me feel dead,
so I can’t stop myself hurting them
just to make me feel relieved.
I forget that my own emotional eruption
is a dangerous destruction.

To everyone
I have ever encountered in my life,
I’m sorry if I ever did hurt you
when I was breaking inside.
Jan 2019 · 225
The Storm I Was Once
Blckstr Jan 2019
I once found
the most devastating storm
inside my head.
My thoughts were flooded
by murky memories
I could never forget.
I was drowned;
and it felt like
not even a single person
was there for me –
to save me
from drowning,
so I just let and kept
myself sinking
in the deepest depth,
giving up
and not trying my best
to survive.
“I’ve never been alive, anyway,”
words I inscribed in my heart.
I let the cold shadows
of loneliness outrage within me.
I drowned my own self;
And then, I found someone
who sought for help,
drowned by her thoughts,
fighting with her ghosts,
dissociating herself
from the storm
that kept her suffering.
We were both underwater,
barely breathing,
both drowning;
but she kept on fighting
While I already gave up.
That was the moment
I realized that the storm
I used to call so
turned into the person
I had been.
“I myself was the storm
that drowned me intensely.”
Thanks to that someone
I met in the same water
I had had drowned in.
She made me realize one thing.
“Some are dying to live.
Why am I even living to die?”
And thanks to her
because I had realized
that we could not survive
if we would not do
something for own survival.
Everybody can help us,
but we are the only ones
who can save ourselves
from our own storm,
especially if the storm is us.
Blckstr Dec 2018
Maybe I should start
Ending everything,
So I can evade the snare
Of pain and suffering.
Maybe it's time to stop
The late night cries,
The ifs and whys,
And all the disappointments
I hear from everyone's voice.
Maybe I myself am the noise
I create on my own,
That's why I've been hearing
My whole existence
Like a sound of complete mess.
I've been so stuck
In the weak personality
I don't have to have,
Like a poor photography
I have pathetically loved.
At this moment,
I am not the person
I have ever wanted to be
So maybe...
I should start
Killing myself to be born again.
And maybe...
Now is the time to lose myself
And start destroying the shelf
I used to hide inside.
I am trapped in a world
Where I can't find a word
To release the best of Me.
Maybe I have to be lost
In the universe
To find the brightest star
I can be.
Maybe I have to end my story
To start a new one.
It's time to **** the character
I used to play,
Because maybe
I have to lose myself
To find the better Me.
Blckstr Dec 2018
I want you to love me
The same way I love you.
I want you to feel the heat
While staring at me so fervently,
The explosion of your heart
Each moment our eyes meet,
The avalanche of your tears
Every time you see me
Kissing somebody else.

I want you to love me
Like you can drink a poison
Just to show your fidelity,
Like you can behead yourself
Just to prove that I'm the only one
You are thinking about,
Like you can pull your heart
Out of your chest
Just to show that it's the best
And most precious treasure I own.

I want you to love me
Like you can burn yourself in fire
To show how ardent your love is,
Like your ablaze desire
Makes you want to kiss
And hug me hardly and tightly
That you lose your breath literally.

I want you to love me
Like you want to drown in ocean,
Like you want to stab yourself
A hundred times until you run
Out of blood and life.
I want you to **** yourself
Just to prove your love to me.

I want you to love me.
I want you to feel
How hard it is to feel this love.
I want you to know
How it feels to feel the love
And hate at the same time.
I want you to feel
The pain I've been feeling right now.
I want you to feel
That loving you kills me every day,
And yet I'm still loving this way.
Blckstr Dec 2018
I was scared of pain
And I used to think that
Death is a potion
That tastes a lot
Like a painful poison,
Like it could burn my blood
Until I feel the heat,
Until my body feels
Like a boiling ocean
That makes me scorch in terror,
That makes me suffer,
That makes me perish forever…
Pain made me fear dying.

Death made me shiver.
It sent horror in my head
That when I would see
A corpse back then,
My knees would shudder
And I would puke
All the terrible
And disheveled thoughts
Out of my mouth…
Fighting my fear
Never made my heart stout.

I was afraid of dying
Until I had tasted death.

I was sent to a battlefield
Where everyone was my foe.
It seemed like I was the fiend
But it was them I have feared of.
I was beaten, stabbed, pierced,
And banged against
My own frail wall
Until I was drowned
In blood of my own,
Until my life felt
As lifeless as a stone,
Until I couldn’t breathe
Until I could feel anything
No more.

I lived like a corpse,
Everything to me felt so dead.
Maybe it was dumb of me,
After all, to fear death,
Because this time,
It is the only thing
That makes me feel
My existence still.

I was afraid of dying
But now,
Thinking of all the pain
I have had,
I’m scared to live again.
I’m scared to live anymore.
Dec 2018 · 166
Another Dawn
Blckstr Dec 2018
I cried a dirge when you left.
I found myself staring at the sky,
Waiting for the stars to fall down
While tears were falling from my eyes.
My world stopped spinning.
My clock stopped ticking.
It was the moment
I experienced how heartache
Could burn a tongue
While saying a precious name.
It was the moment
I realized that a heart could burn
Even without a flame.
It was the moment
I started writing poems,
Definitely coming from my heart.
Perhaps, heartbreak
Is a powerful form of devastation
That can create a beautiful art.
I started convincing myself
That you wouldn’t ever come back,
So I had had to be used
Having a broken heart for a lifetime.
I used this misfortune
As a motivation
To write poems and proses
Out of nostalgic specks
Of letters from the universe.
I learned how to sleep
With papers, drenched by tears,
On my bed every night.
I learned how to fight
The fear of losing someone I love
And the fear of losing myself because of love.
But there was still pain
Each time I gazed at the stars
Or every time I looked at the moon.
They made me remember
How you left me so soon.
They told me that no matter how bright
They seem in the night,
They can still never suppress the dark sky.
No matter how I tried to be happy,
The sorrow still lingered in my heart.
It was painful.
“Never underestimate
The heartbreak from a true love.
It can destroy a world for a lifetime.”
That’s what I told myself.
But I never knew
That a time would come
When I would finally forget
Everything about regret,
And sadness, and heartache,
And every little thing
That reminds me of how you break
My heart.
I don’t know what happened,
I just realized
That I don’t have to cry over
A single star that preferred
Other galaxy.
I don’t have to look at the sky
For the whole night just to think
What could’ve happened to us
If you ever chose to stay with me.
It no longer hurts;
And when I say so, it means
My tongue no longer burns
Whenever I say your name,
And I could no longer see
An image of us together,
Whenever I see a picture frame.
Every time I close my eyes,
A mirage of graveyard
No more flashes in my sight
My hand no longer bleeds
Whenever I write poems.
This is a new dawn –
Another dawn for a mended heart.
Not everything that’s already broken
Cannot be fixed,
For I managed to fix my world
After you ruined it.
You can never hurt me anymore,
And you can longer steal
The imagery
Of my poetry.
Not anymore.
Oct 2018 · 1.4k
Kill Me
Blckstr Oct 2018
Stop the beating of my heart.
End my life and let everything
Be forgotten like a fossil in an ocean.
Cease me from living.
Bar me from breathing.

**** me!
****** a thousand nails into my chest,
Slit my rasping throat, cut my trembling wrist
And let my blood drip on the floor
Until it forms a sea, enough
For my horrible childhood reminiscences
To drown and walk off the shore,
Where I am the fragments of sand,
Trying to create a stone
Just to be whole, firm, and strong.

**** me!
Pour a hundred-gallon of water into my mouth
And let my pain evade and flow out
Of my suffocated body.
Maybe then I can finally say
"I'm fine"
Without trying to extend
My hand above water
Or trying to breathe bit by bit
While my lungs load a river.

**** me!
Pull my eyes out, so I won't feel my tears anymore.
Slice my ears, so I won't hear myself again yowling in mourn.
Break my legs, so I can finally stop myself
From jumping on a deep water like a stupid whelp.
Hook my heart out of my chest.
Bludgeon my head to death.
Maybe then, I won't feel for once
Like I'm a canary underneath
The undertow of an ocean,
Wings ripped off and flight unfound.

**** me
Because I can hardly breathe.
I'm drowning in the thought of being sad
While losing the reason to feel so.
Every day, anxiety drags me to my bed,
But insomnia has this silly prank of hammering my head.
I try to ask anyone for help,
But whenever I see people in my surroundings
All I feel is like eternally drowning.
They make me feel like a terrestrial flower,
Trying to breathe underwater.

Every night, I write poems,
Not to **** boredom
But to **** something that kills me -
Every letter I write on a paper
Feels like the water
Inside an aquarium where
I keep on suffering
And drowning forever.

I'm in the abyssal zone,
Too deep that even light can't penetrate.
Darkness engulfs me,
And light easily burns me
Take me from this depth.
Take me from this kind of death.
This depth makes me lose my breath.

**** me
Because living already feels like dying.
**** me
Not becase I'm tired of living,
But because I'm tired of dying!
**** me
Because it's suffocating.
It's asphyxiating me.
This darkness makes me
Hardly see
It feels like I'm dying forever,
And I don't want to die anymore,
I'm drowning.
I can never reach the shore.
Save me!
Sep 2018 · 84.5k
If You Could Read My Mind
Blckstr Sep 2018
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Sep 2018 · 431
Not yet, Little Canary
Blckstr Sep 2018
Not yet, little canary!
The world is too dark for you;
Spread not your golden wings;
You’ll break them if you do.

Not yet, little canary!
Lay still on your hidden nest,
The hunters are still watching;
You must stay still and just rest.

Not yet, little canary!
Chirp not a single sound,
Sing not your frail heart out,
Your sole life will be shot down.

Danger is in the woods;
Stray not out of the woods;
Fly not, little canary!
Not yet, little canary!
Jul 2018 · 626
Love is Not a Poem
Blckstr Jul 2018
Love is not a piece of writing
that comes from a heart;
It is not a flowerful verse;
It is a flowerless vase
that holds no decoration,
no rhythmical motion,
no verbose potion;
Love is not a poem.
It does not bear a stanza
full of melodic metaphors
that attract the cores
of one’s eyes and ears,
because love has no rhymes
that make two heartbeats
sound as one.
It is an offbeat
kind of sound
like two metals
clanking with a hard,
earsplitting clang.
Love is not a poem.
It bears no hyperbolic
kind of feelings.
It is a catastrophic
kind of rain.
It bears no onomatopoeia
like a thump-thump–
beat of a heart.
It is just a thunder
with a destructive art.
Love is a storm.
Love is not a poem.
It has no alliteration
in a tiny tinkling tone.
It is not a poetic notion
in a simile or an oxymoron.
It is not a set of written words
which provide a colorful world.
Love is not a poem.
These were the things
I used to say before…
But then, you happened…
Love became a poem.
It turned into a free verse –
no patterned rhyme
no regular rhythm.
It just flowed
through a beautiful heartbeat
with an ineffable heartbeat.
Love turned to be the skeleton
of my poetry.
Love became the pedestal
of my words,
creating a series
of lines and stanzas
with touch
of fragrant language.
Love became a poem
because my poetry
turned to be you…
You are
my poem –
my love…
Jul 2018 · 369
I Met Someone Like You
Blckstr Jul 2018
One night, as I gazed
The stars above,
I met a girl
And she looks like you, my love.
She talks like you.
She laughs like you.
She smiles like you.
Her eyes glitter like yours.
She has this kind of force
That makes my time stop -
That makes me fall
The way I fell for you.

I met a girl, my love
And because of her,
I remembered everything -
Everything about us
In the past.
I remembered
How you held my hand -
How I kissed you -
How we watched the sun
Like we did -
'Like I did'

I met someone like you,
My love.
Her words are also filled
With flowers' fields -
With butterflies -
With stars in the night.
Her words are as colorful
As yours.
They're beautiful
To hear.
She's beautiful
Like you, my dear.

I met someone like you,
My love.
She dances like you.
She goes with the music
Of the mellifluous wind.
She sings and speaks
The way your lips
And voice create
A honey-flavored trip
In my tickled ears -
Iniside my head -
Inside my heart -
A romantic art.

I met someone like you,
My dear.
I found someone like you.
I met her.
I found her
While my heart
Was crying,
And losing
A billion beats
Because of the memories
You left with me.

I met someone like you.
She looks like you.
She smiles like you.
She talks like you.
And even though
She never hurts me
The way you did,
My heart still beats
And beats
And beats for you.
And it still hurts me.
You still break me.
Though you've already left me.

I met someone like you.
I have a choice to fall for her
But my heart still chooses
To fall for you.
Jul 2018 · 380
If I Were To Die Tonight
Blckstr Jul 2018
If I were to die tonight,
Burn the poems I gave you,
Throw my letters away,
And think of my love as a game
You don't ever want to play.
If I were to die tonight,
Let the flowers
In my poetry wither
And never bloom again
Like my dead forgotten name.
If I were to die tonight,
Leave the metaphors
I carved on my papers -
The shallow containers
Of my submerging words.
Never read again
The personification
Of my syllabication
That dances
As nuisances.
If I were to die tonight,
Forget the words I said
Delete the messages I sent
And let your smile erase
All the memories we've made
If I were to die tonight,
Forget that you've met a writer
Who loved you who you were
In his dying poetry.
If I were to die tonight,
Please... just please don't cry;
Don't let a tear fall from your eyes;
Instead, sleep so tight.
So if I would die tonight,
Please try and try to smile
And forget about me
'Cause I know it would make you lonely.
Before I die tonight,
Forget about me,
'Cause I don't want
You to cry and cry
Because of our memories.
Jul 2018 · 284
This is Not Written For You
Blckstr Jul 2018
I'm still breaking,
I'm still crying,
Every single night.
My heart's burning
And I'm still writing;
But this time,
My words are not
Written for you.
This poem is not about
How I fell in love with you,
How the butterflies fly in my stomach,
How the amorous views
In the sky of black
Invade our hearts in the night
While you're holding me so tight.
This poem is not about
How my heart shattered
When you left me,
How I faltered
When you handed me misery,
And how my hands bled
When I started
Writing poems about you,
Writing poems about us.
This poem is written
Not because I'm still waiting
For you to come back.
This poem is written
Not because I'm still trying
To reverse the flow of clock.
This poem is not written for you!
Yes, I'm still breaking,
I'm still crying
Every single night.
My heart's still burning,
But this time,
I'm not writing for you.
This poem is not written for you
This poem is written for myself.
This is written to convince myself
That you will never love me... again.
This time, I'm not writing poems for you;
I'm writing for myself!
Jul 2018 · 255
“Mom, I’m Sorry”
Blckstr Jul 2018
Mom, I’m sorry.
I would never be the son
You wanted me to be.
I could not give you the medals,
And the certificates
Which smell like petals
Plucked from the gardens
Of books and pens.
I’m sorry, because
I became a lost man
In the ocean
Of liquors
For a voyage to nowhere.
I drank the soul
Of depression
Because, I’m sorry,
It was the only one
Who was there for me
When you and everyone
Were gone.
Mom, I’m sorry.
When I was alone,
I used drugs
Just to have visionary
People around me.
Mom, I’m sorry,
I did not feel your presence
For me,
Because every time
You talked to me,
You used to say…
I was a useless,
Dumb, and stupid child,
So my agony got so wild.
Mom, I’m sorry
Your presence
Made me feel
That I was so alone
In this world.
Mom, I’m sorry.
You were not beside me
When I was losing myself…
On the night I hanged myself,
I felt so delighted.
My dark days ended.
Nights for tears were terminated.
On the night I lost my life,
I wished… you would be
Happy and proud of me.
I wished for you to smile
Because I’ve never seen you
Do it even just for a while.
Mom, I’m sorry.
I never expected you to cry
In front of my coffin.
Mom, please wipe
Those tears from your eyes.
Mom, I’m sorry.
Mom, you were right.
I’m a useless, dumb, and stupid child.
I’m sorry.
I never thought…
You would still love your child.
Mom, I’m sorry…
Jul 2018 · 227
This is How I Love You
Blckstr Jul 2018
I love you,
And when I tell it to you,
It means my ink
Has once gain
Filled a paper
With your name –
Repeatedly written
On every line,
On every sign,
And every space
Of the thousands words
Inscribed in my poems.
I love you,
And when I tell it to you,
It means the
Flowers of my letters
Are waiting for your hand
To pluck and bear
Until the hands
Of the clock
Lack a pack
Of time and force for us
To separate at last.
I love you,
And when I tell it to you,
It means the metaphors
Of my phrases
Are waiting for your
Hugs and kisses
To embrace my life
That has been
Written with might,
Printed with the spin
Of a syllabicated sight.
I love you,
And when I tell it to you,
It means I’m already ready
To kneel in front of you
To ask you for marriage
While articulating
Scented words as carriage
Of my fast beating
I love you,
And when I tell it to you,
It means my hands
Are already ready
To write a million words,
Dancing with the beat
Of my art.
I love you,
And when I tell it to you,
It means
I’m going to write
poems about you
Until the end of my life.
Jul 2018 · 354
I Envy the Moon Above
Blckstr Jul 2018
I envy the moon above;
He doesn’t live in this world
And experience
How spiteful words
Make a heart
Die in silence.
I envy the moon so much,
For he doesn’t cry at night
While looking at the sky
And losing a trace of light.
He’s just lying up above,
But he catches a rain of love.
He captures people’s eyes
Despite of the thousand stars
Shining so bright
In the night.
I envy the moon above,
Because the cloud
Embraces him
And serves as his shroud
When cold tears
Pour like beers.
The sun supports
Him to shine,
Regardless of his dark spots
And keen, murky signs.
I envy the moon at night;
Though sometimes he may be wry,
He can still defy the dark sky;.
He can withstand the doughty dusk
And roll like a gleaming husk.
I envy the moon so much,
But sometimes, I wonder…
“Does the moon envy me, too,
Because no matter
How plenty the stars are,
In the sky, next to him,
He still seems to be alone –
A misfit and an odd stone?”
Blckstr Jul 2018
Have you seen my little Anna?
I lost my little Anna
So, whenever you see her,
Please let me know, ma’am and sir.

She has a pair of pitch-black eyes
Which hold celestial skies;
She has a fair complexion, and
She bears a soft and feeble hand.

Her long and smooth, raven hair
Sways through the wave of the air;
Her rosy lips smile so wide,
But her sadness she can’t hide.

Have you seen my little Anna?
‘Cause I long for her every day.
The last time I saw her face,
We were on this street on a rainy day.

I remember, ma’am and sir…
She used to smile to me back then
But when her friends met her father,
That smile of her used to end.

I’m her father, ma’am and sir,
And I really love my daughter,
That’s why I worked hard just for her,
So she could be a lawyer.

That was her dream, ma’am and sir.
So I gave it all to her,
But the only problem I have right now
Is… I lost my only daughter.

One day, we were walking
While the rain was hardly falling,
She let my hands go,
And now, her whereabouts I don’t know.

Have you seen my little Anna?
I cannot find my little Anna,
I have no legs to walk all day,
I don’t know where to stay.

I’m sorry, ma’am and sir,
But I already lost my name
I’m too old to remember;
Don’t be scared; I’m not insane.

I can barely move my crooked body;
I can barely see the morning’s sunshine;
But don’t worry, for I’m still fine;
I’m just worried about my little Anna.

So when you find my little Anna,
Please let me know where she is,
‘Cause I want to see my daughter
And her smile I really miss.
Jul 2018 · 211
Your Eyes
Blckstr Jul 2018
Your eyes
are the favorite
stars of mine.
Even when
the darkness
shrouds the night,
they still
shine so bright.
Your eyes
are the favorite
view of mine.
They leave
a picturesque
fleck of light
that stays
forever in my sight.
Your eyes
are the favorite
stars of mine;
They don’t need
to make
a celestial line
or a constellation
in the sky
just to be noticed
and to kiss
the pair of my eyes,
for they’re already
a supernatural beauty
in their uniformity.
Your eyes
are the favorite stars
of mine.
I fall for them
every time
my eyesight
intersects to its
celestial light,
but it breaks me
to know that
every time
I fall for them,
they also fall
for him –
for somebody else;
And every night,
your eyes shower
a rain for him,
I’m also trying
to stop your rain
while my very eyes
are having
their own
like a pair
of stars
on the verge
of explosion.
Jul 2018 · 370
You’re Unfair
Blckstr Jul 2018
You’re unfair
Because you left me
For you to be happy
While I was drowned
In melancholy
And beautiful
Yet tragic memories
Left mournfully
In my mind.
You’re unfair
Because you
Can sleep tight
And rest at night
While I feel uneasy
With the beat
Of my heart.
You’re unfair
Because you
Don’t feel
How much
It hurts
To be left
By someone
You badly want
To stay
Until the end.
You’re unfair
Because you
Won’t feel
The sorrow
I’ve been feeling
Right now.
You’re unfair
Because you’re
Just lying
Peacefully at rest
While my heart
Is breaking
Every day
I cry
In your graveyard,
And since the day
You had ended
Your life.
Jul 2018 · 199
I Won’t Commit Suicide
Blckstr Jul 2018
I don’t need a knife
To end my life.
I don’t need a gun
To escape and run
Away from
The monochromatic
And melancholic
And ghosts
That haunt me
I don’t need
To cut my wrist,
Or even slit
My throat
Just to end
The thoughts
That ******
My head.
I don’t need
To hang
My head
‘til death
Just to suppress
The sadness
In my heart.
I don’t need
To **** myself
When I’m alone
In my shelf.
I won’t commit suicide.
I won’t ****** myself,
For I’m not a murderer.
I’m a poet,
And poetry is enough
To stop
The shadows,
And thoughts
That reflect
The cruelty
Of my society.
I’m a poet;
And I mend my heart
By writing poetry.
Jul 2018 · 181
Blckstr Jul 2018
I envy the cloud above...
He can cry the pain away
When it is already too much
To bear inside;
Whereas, I release and write
The pain on my paper,
But it never leaves my heart.
Blckstr Jul 2018
The last time I said “I love you”,
The butterflies from my stomach
Flew up to my heart
And moved out of my mouth;
The crickets sang out loud
As the moon above the sky
Flickered with an imposing light
While you were holding me so tight.

The last time I said “I love you”,
My own heart beat so fast
As I looked at your comely eyes;
We danced through the night
As if the whole world was all ours;
Everything stopped for an hour,
Our love took a trip in an ocean
And forever stayed in an island.

The last time I said “I love you”,
I still could feel your love for me
Our lips made a mixture
Of beautiful thousand colors
But with tears in our eyes…
The last time we said those words
Was the ‘farewell’ to our own worlds.

Now, I say the words “I love you”
Without love in my heart,
The butterflies are gone,
I’m already lost in an ocean;
Now, I say the words “I love you”
To someone I don’t love at all
I miss the days I was with you
And the last night I said I love you.
May 2018 · 218
Let's Make Love Once More
Blckstr May 2018
Let's make love
Like I'm still yours
And you're still mine.
Kiss my lips one more time
And let a thousand butterflies
Fly in my stomach.
Let them pluck
The withered flowers
Growing in my heart,
And plant your blossom
As my beautiful art.
Let's make love
For another time.
Let my arms
Surround you with no harm
But with pure love -
Like a free dove,
Like my glowing dove
Loving to fly inside of you,
Loving you and your precious hue.
Let's make love
And let the cosmic bodies
Constellate us with bliss,
Like how your fingers
Fit the space between mine,
Like how we push and pull
In a magnetizing time,
Like how I travel the stars
In your body so fine.
Let's make love
Like you still love me,
Like you still want to stay with me,
Like you still like
The taste of my lips,
The sound of our moans -
Our harmonizing groans.
Let's make love
They way we did back then.
Let's make love
Like how we relished the pleasure and pain.
Let's make love
Before you walk out of my life,
Before you take away my light.
Let's make love
Before you leave.
Let me lie next to you
Before you close your cave.
Let me lie on your coffin
Before you rest in your grave.
Blckstr Apr 2018
One night, Depression knocks on my door
So I let it in, without knowing its identity.
I let it in, because I think it needs my help.
I let it in, and then it reveals its personality.
Depression is an earthquake I don’t know when will come,
But when it appears, it creates havoc I don’t know where it comes from.
Depression is a rain of tears,
And when time passes by, it becomes storm and my great fear.
Depression is a sad and tragic movie
That makes my tears fall freely and rapidly.
Yes, it is a sad movie that makes me cry at night,
And I don’t know why I’m doing so, and I can’t understand this plight.
Depression is a brother of anxiety
Who can just knock me down easily.
Depression is a friend I want my mother to know
But she just says, “Let your stupidity go!”
Depression is the handcuffs locked on my wrist
That I don’t even know it still exists
Depression is the coffee that stops me to sleep at night.
Depression is the onion that can easily make me cry.
Depression is the voice ringing in my head.
Depression is the monster under my bed.
Depression is a car in a parking lot,
And I’m the parking lot I don’t want to be at.
Depression is the ghost that haunts a house
Although, I’m the house I don’t want to live at.
Depression is a star that always stays in the sky
And, I’m the sky I don’t want to look at.
Depression is a silly child who asks me
“Are you tired of living?”
But I just answer with
“I’m tired of Dying!”
Because Depression kills me everyday.
Depression makes me feel I’m already dead.
It is a bullet that in my heart forever stays.
It is a vicious, painful word forever said.
Depression is not a treasure from a chest.
Depression is not a kind guest.
So, when Depression knocks on your door,
Don’t open it, if you don’t want to have a deadly tour,
Because when Depression knocks on your door,
It wants to make you feel lonely until you don’t know why you’re lonely anymore.
Inspired by Sabrina Benaim's spoken word poetry "Explaining My Depression To My Mother" on Youtube.
Apr 2018 · 360
Sorry, I Can't Wait For You
Blckstr Apr 2018
Sorry, because I’m giving up.
Sorry, for I’ll already stop.
I know, we’ve been waiting
For too long.
But now, you better start finding
For new man.
It’s not because I’m tired of this love,
But because love’s already tired of me.
It’s not because I’ve found a new love,
But because my own love can’t find me.
Maybe it’s because of the people around me,
Or maybe because of the misery inside me.
I know you’ve been waiting
For our future wedding.
But, sorry I can never wait,
So we have to separate.
Sorry, I’ve tried to wait for you,
But my mind is invaded by tragic hue
Sorry, because I’ll already stop.
Sorry, because I’m giving up…
I’m giving up –
I’m not giving up on this love,
But I’m giving up on my life.
So, sorry, I can’t wait for you,
For I will end my life tonight
Feb 2018 · 3.5k
Sa Ilalim ng Buwan
Blckstr Feb 2018
Sa Ilalim ng Buwan
Nagsimula ang lahat,
Sa ilalim ng kalawakang
Iyong pinagmamasdan.
Sumasayaw ang kinang
Ng mga tala sa kalangitan,
At tayo’y nasa damuhan
Habang ang amihan
Ay dumadampi sa ‘ting katawan.
Sa Ilalim ng Buwan,
Doon kita laging nasisilayan,
Habang ang ‘yong mga mata’y
Naglalakbay sa kalangitan
At ang aking mga mata’y
Naglalakbay sa kagandahan
Ng iyong mga matang
Kasingganda ng buwan…
Sa Ilalim ng Buwan
Ipinagtapat mo ang ‘yong nararamdaman.
Kamay mo’y aking hinawakan,
Yinakap kita at sinabing
“Huwag kang mag-alala.
Mamahalin ka rin niya.”
Kasabay ng luha sa ‘yong mata,
Pumatak din ang aking luha
Mahal kita, pero mahal mo siya,
At ‘di ko kayang makita
Na nasasaktan ka
Dahil sa kaniya.
Sa Ilalim ng Buwan
Luha mo’y aking pinunasan
Doon kita pinatahan,
Doon kita unang nayakap,
Doon ko unang naramdaman
Ang init ng alaapaap
Sa kamay **** aking nahawakan.
Sa Ilalim ng Buwan
Doon ko naramdaman
Ang ‘yong lungkot at saya,
Ngunit ‘di mo nadama
Ang aking pagsinta.
Sa Ilalim ng Buwan
Doon kita nakitang lumigaya
Sa saliw ng musika,
Sa kislap ng mga tala.
Doon ko nakita
Ang pinakamakinang
Na sinag ng ‘yong mata
At ang pinakamalawak
Na ngiti sa ‘yong mukha,
Habang hawak mo ang kaniyang kamay
Sa liwanag na alay
Ng romantikong buwan.
Sa ilalim ng Buwan
Doon ko napagmasdan
Kung pa’no mo siya halikan,
Kung pa’no ka magmahal,
Habang ako ay nasasaktan,
Umiiyak, at nawawalan
Ng pag-asang
Akin ding mararamdaman
Ang ‘yong pagmamahal.
Sa ilalim ng maliwanag na buwan,
Dumilim ang aking buhay.
Sa ilalim ng maliwanag na buwan,
Luha ko ang naging ulan.
Sa ilalim ng buwan,
Nag-abang ako ng bulalakaw
Upang humiling,
Hindi para ika’y maagaw
Mula sa kanyang piling,
Kundi para hilingin
Na ika’y kaniyang mahalin
Kagaya ng pagmamahal
Na aking nararamdaman
At itinago sa ilalim ng buwan…
Sa ilalim ng buwan
Tiniis ko ang sakit,
Ang bawat hinagpis.
Sa ilalim ng buwan
Nagsimula ang lahat.
Sabay nating pinagmasdan
Ang tanglaw ng kalangitan.
At sa ilalim ng buwan,
Tatapusin ko na ang lahat
Ng sakit na aking nararamdaman,
Pagmamasdan ang bituin at buwan,
Ang madilim na kalangitan,
Hanggang sa dumating
Ngayong gabi ang bulalakaw
Upang humiling
Na sana’y dumating para sa ‘kin
Ang pagsibol ng bagong araw.
Feb 2018 · 630
Blckstr Feb 2018
Ipaalala mo sa ‘kin kung paano kita minahal,
At ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo kung paano mo ‘ko sinaktan.
Ipaalala mo sa ‘kin kung paano tayo nagsimula
At ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo kung pa’no mo ‘to tinapos na lang bigla.
Ipaalala mo sa akin kung paano kita pinasaya,
At ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo kung paano mo ‘ko pinaluha.
Ipaalala mo sa ‘kin kung paano ko pinakitang MAHAL KITA,
At ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo kung paano mo sinabing AYAW MO NA.
Mahal, naaalala mo pa ba ang lahat?
Sabihin mo sa ‘king limot mo na ang ating nakaraan,
At sasabihin ko sa ‘yong nasasaktan
Pa rin ako sa kasalukuyan.
Ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo kung pa’no ako kumapit
Sa ating relasyon,
At alalahanin mo kung pa’no ka bumitiw
Sa paglipas ng panahon.
Ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo ang ating mga pangako,
At alalahanin mo kung paano mo pinako ang mga ito.
Ipapaalala ko sa’yo kung paano ako lumaban
At alalahanin mo kung paano ka sumuko sa pagmamahal.
Ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo ang pagtanong kong
“Mahal mo pa ba ako?
At alalahanin mo ang sinagot ****
“Hindi ko alam, pero ayaw ko na.”
Mahal, bakit gano’n na lang kadali para sa ‘yo
Na limutin ang ating pinagsamahan
Mahal, kung babalik ka at sasabihing
Mahal mo pa ako,
Sasabihin ko sayong
“Mahal kita, pero ayaw ko na.”
Alalahanin mo ang iyong paglayo
At ipapaalala ko sa ‘yo ang sakit na naramdaman ko
Alalahanin mo kung pa’no mo kinalimutan
ang nakaraan
At sasabihin ko sa ‘yo kung pa’no ako pinapapatay
Ng kasalukuyan.
Alalahanin mo ang bawat salitang iyong binitiwan
At sasabihin ko sa ‘yong gusto ko nang bitawan ang nakaraan!
Blckstr Feb 2018
Nakangiti ang kaniyang mukha,
Hanggang langit ang tuwa,
Tumitingkad ang mga mata,
Na parang kumikinang na tala –
Kumikislap, walang pagkurap,
At lumilipad-lipad sa alapaap…
‘Yan ang nakikita,
‘Yan ang nakapinta
Sa kaniyang larawan…
Sa larawan lamang
Makulay ang kaniyang mundo;
Walang dilim; hindi malabo;
Walang problema; walang pagguho;
Walang sakit at hapdi sa puso…
Dahil dinadaya
Ng mapaglarong tinta
Na naglalaro sa mga mata,
Nilalaro ng kaniyang mukha…
Sa larawang buhay na buhay
Habang ang kaniyang sariling buhay
Ay namamatay, nahihimlay
Sa luha at lumbay.
Sa larawan lamang…
Sa larawan lamang mapagmamasdan
Ang ngiti niyang hanggang langit
Ang mata niyang walang pait
Ang buhay niyang walang sakit.
Sa larawan lamang makikita
Ang mga tala sa kaniyang mata
Ang mundo niyang maligaya.
Sa larawan lang siya
(Dahil kailangan – kailangang magpanggap).
Sa larawan lang niya
Naipipinta ang kaniyang saya
Sa larawan lang niya
Nadadaya ang kaniyang mukha
Sa larawan lang siya nagmumukhang masaya
Pero, hanggang larawan na lang ba?
Blckstr Jan 2018
Roses are red;
Violets are blue
But nothing is bluer
Than my heart without “You."

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
The tears I shed
Were because of you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
My heart had bled
With a tragic hue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
My love was sacred
And I gave it to you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
And you just wasted
My love so true.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
Leaving me wrecked
Did not make you rue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
All of our flowers
Lost its hue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
My life is gone
And so are you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
You are the sin
That I love to do.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
I can now see nothing
But the bluest blue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
I hope I can find
The way back to you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
I hope I can see again
Your beautiful hue.

Because roses are red
And violets are blue
But nothing is bluer
Than my heart without “You.”
Jan 2018 · 352
Blckstr Jan 2018
It’s funny how I try to laugh
When I really want to cry
It’s funny how I try to stop
But my feelings never die
It’s funny that I’m still not fine
Though I know you won’t be mine…
It’s funny; you’ve already left,
But I still can’t do what’s right
It’s funny; you’ve committed theft
I let you steal my life
And it’s funny, I gave all my love
And now I can never have…
Your heart.
It’s funny how I try to smile
When I’m tired of my own lies
It’s funny when I say I’m fine
With a tone of million cries
It’s funny; no one knows the thing
That I’m crushing and shattering…
It’s funny ‘cause I’m not too strong
To let go and just move on
It’s funny; my life’s not too long
For me to wait and hold on
And it’s funny ‘cause I’m too weak
For you to beat and break…
My heart.
It’s funny how I love this sight
Of hurting myself so much
It’s funny how I try to fight
In this love’s dreadful match
And it’s funny ‘cause I’m giving up
But I never want to stop…
My love.
It’s too lovely; it’s too funny
That I still cannot be happy
It’s too crazy; it’s too silly
I’m too lucky with this destiny
I'm still breaking and I'm sorry
'Cause I know it's not really
Jan 2018 · 200
Blckstr Jan 2018
Close your eyes to the sight that makes you cry
Jan 2018 · 218
Blckstr Jan 2018
Stop falling in love with someone you can never have
Jan 2018 · 379
Little Blue Eyes
Blckstr Jan 2018
Little Blue Eyes
On a wall of reflection
Such spheres of perfection
Create colorful fiction.

Little Blue Eyes
You give sight to my life
You bewitch me with your light
And, with dark, create strife.

Little Blue Eyes
By your hue, I am enticed
Such iris reflects skies
Wherein sea of clearness lies.

Little Blue Eyes
Portray sparkling stars
Create rainbow in the night
You open the morning bars.

Little Blue Eyes
Stay with me all the time
Please keep the evening rhyme
And the morning’s shine.

Little Blue Eyes
Don’t go, don’t ever leave me,
For I’ll be lonely when you flee
And my world will be empty.

Little Blue Eyes
Sing with me; dance with me
I’ll make you smile like a baby
Just don’t leave me in this reality.

Little Blue Eyes
Don’t take away my light
Stay always by my side
‘Cause you’re my only sight.

Little Blue Eyes
Now, you’re making me cry
You’re making my world dry
You’re giving me lonely sigh.

Little by little, I’m losing my way
Little by little, you’re fading away
And little by little, I’m losing my sight
‘Cause you’re blinking away, Little Blue Eyes.
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