Siya ay parang ulan
Kay tagal **** hinintay
Sa panahon ng tag init,
Na sa pag dating nito
Ay maiibsan ang sakit

Na dala ng sunog
Sa iyong katawan.

Na dala ng init
Na nang gagaling sa kaniyang mga halik.

Tandaan mo, siya din ang sumunog sa iyong dibdib
Pero siya padin ang iyong hinihimig.

Eto ka nanaman, nakatayo sa kalagitnaan ng bagyo.
Nakayuko, sinasalo ang bawat patak ng ulan.
Umaasang na siya'y iyong mahahawakan.
Pero wag kang magpaka tanga.

Siya ay tubig, lumulusot sa mga singit ng iyong mga daliri. At humahaplos sa bawat sulok ng iyong mga sanga. Pinararamdam kung anong piling ng kasama siya.

Sige, pwede kang umiyak, walang makaka halata, sa bawat pag bagsak ng mga luha na nanggagaling sa iyong mga mata. Iyak lang ng iyak. Maghihintay ako sa iyong pagtahan

Pero tandaan mo, wala kang karapatan magselos. Kase hindi mo naman siya pagaari,

Siya ay pangpataba ng lupa.
Wag kang maging hadlang,
Sa pagtubo ng mga bunga ng kanilang pag mamahalan.

Pero wag kang magalala.

Hindi ko ba nasabi sa iyo
Na ikay isang puno,
Na paparating na ang tag sibon.
At ngayon mo lang mapagtatanto
Na sa kabila ng lahat ng ito, siya ay nasa tabi mo lang, patuloy na binubulong sa iyong mga tenga,

"Mahal, nadito lang ako. Akap akap ang iyong mga braso. Hinding hindi ako kailanman maglalaho"

"Halika tayo'y muling mag simula."

Why do you try so hard to justify the unjustifiable;
Affirming lies to yourself?
Who's really being liberated now?
Your intentions laid out in broad daylight, it's no use.
Like planting flowers in an open wound, it's not helping.
Speak your mind, but know truth favors not who erred.
Save yourself the silent humiliation.
Move along, just don't look back.

Two is
the number i can call you and me
Two is when one is weak
enough to hold you
that's why here comes another one
to stand for the truth

Two is the pair
not on how i'm in such despair
but how i fall into infinite collisions
that brings my eyes unto
the one who's inspiration
keeps my self stable
with no question

Two are you
when all i had to do
was hide
from the moment everything seemed to collide
when my eyes agreed to snap ties
with someone i did not apparently want to incline with

Two marks how many hands i have
one to hold yours and the other for me to keep
both to clasp for me to pray

Two is the day
You tagged me along
to pray
when my faith was hanging
like a needle lost in the stack of hay

hey

i didn't mean to bargain
or intrude
but praying for the truth
is it really you?

sudden questions appear and take over
when finally answered
i jump quickly into conclusions,
or maybe that's just me

but i realized
two
two is to take time when things aren't meant to be rushed

two is when i just needed time
two is when all i had to do was be totally fine
fine with all of this
not for me to throw
something that doesn't actually need to be thrown away
in the dusk
of the sunsets,
is when i know
that tomorrow the sun will rise
like how my feelings will
when i see you

talk about the perfect price
the price to be with you
is enough for me
sometimes i can go on and on
but i realized
two
is
when
im
with
you
and all i can be is just
stay true?

or

I'm hanging out
our ***** laundry
tonight.
Sticks and stones
and broken bones.
Words actually do stain
as my whites mix with colors
and flow through the air,
pegged down to the last insult.
The best stain remover could be love.
But we've got a really
tough collection,
here tonight.
Despite the hot water wash, those
hard-to-get spots are
still there.
And my brain and heart are
being tumble-dried
the heat, the harsh words
washing out my pride.
My outs are in, my ins outside.
The world's a-tumble
As we wear the cloth down
to the last few threads.
As usual, we forgot
a good dose of softener
to make mellow
the words as they jump
from  our tongues
and enter our heads.
I would save my heart
if I could save yours, too
But it's just all spinning too fast,
What on earth
Shall we do?
We'll just have to hang it up as it is.
Let the world see
that there is no perfection
Let those dulled brights
be a kind of reflection.
Perhaps next wash will be better.
We'll know by then
what to use.
Perhaps love will take over,
rekindle the blown-out fuse.
Right now I'm just gonna
curl up in this
basket. Wait for the
stormy cycles to end.
One thing's for sure.
We must clean up our act
Lest the cottons unravel
We must sew up each tear
Before our hearts start to travel
We must take care of the frayed silks and satins
the polyester
before they are beyond any repair.
Tend to those stains,
Straighten each snare.
Take my love
In a many-hued heap
Smelling of sweet soap
Warming your cheek.
A leap of faith
A dash of desire
Let's wash out the pain
Rub away all ire.
Let's have a laundry party,
Tonight.
Naked on the clean bright sheets.
Let the kisses remove
the harshest of stains
Let caresses replace the words
of pain.
The only softener we'll use
Is the creaminess of tongues.
Let the world see
Our love, tonight.
Flowing on the line
for all to perceive.
Darling, we must give just to give
And then we'll
receive.

This is the church which Pisa, great and free,
Reared to St. Catharine. How the time-stained walls,
That earthquakes shook not from their poise, appear
To shiver in the deep and voluble tones
Rolled from the *****! Underneath my feet
There lies the lid of a sepulchral vault.
The image of an armed knight is graven
Upon it, clad in perfect panoply--
Cuishes, and greaves, and cuirass, with barred helm,
Gauntleted hand, and sword, and blazoned shield.
Around, in Gothic characters, worn dim
By feet of worshippers, are traced his name,
And birth, and death, and words of eulogy.
Why should I pore upon them? This old tomb,
This effigy, the strange disused form
Of this inscription, eloquently show
His history. Let me clothe in fitting words
The thoughts they breathe, and frame his epitaph.

  "He whose forgotten dust for centuries
Has lain beneath this stone, was one in whom
Adventure, and endurance, and emprise
Exalted the mind's faculties and strung
The body's sinews. Brave he was in fight,
Courteous in banquet, scornful of repose,
And bountiful, and cruel, and devout,
And quick to draw the sword in private feud.
He pushed his quarrels to the death, yet prayed
The saints as fervently on bended knees
As ever shaven cenobite. He loved
As fiercely as he fought. He would have borne
The maid that pleased him from her bower by night,
To his hill-castle, as the eagle bears
His victim from the fold, and rolled the rocks
On his pursuers. He aspired to see
His native Pisa queen and arbitress
Of cities: earnestly for her he raised
His voice in council, and affronted death
In battle-field, and climbed the galley's deck,
And brought the captured flag of Genoa back,
Or piled upon the Arno's crowded quay
The glittering spoils of the tamed Saracen.
He was not born to brook the stranger's yoke,
But would have joined the exiles that withdrew
For ever, when the Florentine broke in
The gates of Pisa, and bore off the bolts
For trophies--but he died before that day.

  "He lived, the impersonation of an age
That never shall return. His soul of fire
Was kindled by the breath of the rude time
He lived in. Now a gentler race succeeds,
Shuddering at blood; the effeminate cavalier,
Turning his eyes from the reproachful past,
And from the hopeless future, gives to ease,
And love, and music, his inglorious life."