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 Feb 2016 Ely Averill
ZT
The thing is
I didnt want you to kiss me
I just wanted to hear you say that you love me

They may say that action speaks louder than words
But words are clearer than actions

I can feel your emotions screaming loud
But the thing is
its just loud, but definitely unclear
There are times when I just want to hear a certain phrase from you
Parang may pagasa.
Parang.
Parang gusto ko na siya.
Parang.
Parang mahal ko na siya.
Parang.
Parang lang.
Oo.
May pagasa daw ako.
Oo.
Gusto ko nga siya.
Oo.
Mahal ko na nga siya.
Pero siya ba?
Naging oo na ba ang mga parang niya?
Baka naman ako lang pala.
Baka naman parang lang ako sa kanya—parang tanga.
Oo. Tanga nga ako.
Sa unang limang segundo, berde.
Sabi mo mahal mo. Sige, andar.
Sa susunod na dalawang segundo, dilaw.
Magmabagal ka muna.
Pagisipan mo kung tutuloy ka pa.
Sa huling segundo, pula.
Tigil na.
Wala na.
Maghintay ka nalang.
Magiging berde rin ulit yan.
Wag ka na mag-beating-the-red-light.
Pagbabayarin ka pa ng pulis at sasabihin sa'yong, "Nakita mo namang dilaw na yung ilaw, 'di ba? Ba't tumuloy ka pa?"
At ikaw naman 'tong nagbubulag bulagang sasabihing, "Akala ko po aabot pa ako."
Akala mo lang.
Akala mo kakayanin mo pa siyang habulin pero hindi na pala.
Akala mo maaabutan mo pa siya pero nakalayo na siya.
Akala mo.
Akala mo lang.
Pero mali ang iyong akala.
Sana.
Sana pala huminto ka na.
Sana pala hindi mo na hinabol.
Sana pala noong una palang, inalam mo na.
Sana inalam mo na, na di ka na niya mahal.
Kaya nung naging berde na yung ilaw, umandar na siya.
Pero nung umapak ka na sa gas upang habulin siya,
naging dilaw na yung ilaw.
Sana doon palang, tumigil ka na.
Sana doon palang, nagdahan-dahan ka na.
Pula na 'yung ilaw.
Tigil na.
'Wag mo nang pilitin pang habulin siya.
Pero ito ang sinasabi ko sa'yo,
Sa pagkakataong ito'y maging berde na muli,
Wag **** hintaying maging pula ulit ito.
Ang mga busina ng kotse sa iyong likod ang nagsasabi sayo, "Umandar ka na. Berde na ang ilaw. Ano pa ba ang ginagawa mo?"
Umapak ka sa gas, hindi para sa kanya.
Pero para sa sarili mo.
Before I left, I asked how you were feeling.
You said you were okay.

But since when did okay turn into sleepless nights with your head resting on a pillow dampened by your tears?
Since when did okay turn into breaking wine glasses while getting drunk on the blood from your broken heart?
Since when did okay turn into drinking anti-depressants?
Since when did okay start to feel like hell?

If that's what being okay is like, then I guess I'm okay.
Pain is inevitable―
     and so is falling in love.
     But the only difference between the two,
     is that love feels great and pain does not.

The inevitability of falling in love
     is a choice,
     a choice whether you'll let yourself fall,
     or if you'll catch yourself before you do.
    
It is a choice,
     a choice whether you'll fight for it,
     or if you'll let it whither―
     like the flower he gave you on your first date.

It is a choice,
     a choice whether you'll hold on,
     or let go
     and never turn back.

People see love,
     and they think they know what it is.
     But in the world we live in today,
     no one really knows.

People chose love,
     but all they got was pain.
     Nothing felt great.
     They weren't happy.

People think love
     is just a pastime, a joke,
     or breaking the bed and leaving the next day,
     with only the trace of their perfume left on the sheets.

But the worst thing,
     is when people think
     that love is a trap,
     something that no longer exists.
How can a piece of plastic,
Mean the world to me?
Hold the depth of memories,
That runs deeper than the sea?
A random thought of a random morning
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