Our screaming demons,
they like to visit us at night.

Their voice becomes our company,
their smiles — wicked,
and the shadows that we see.
Every night they keep us up,
quiet, as they may be.

They live in our deepest thoughts
as we try to chase them away.
In the end, we’re surrounded
for they crawl and they hide,
and the deeper they go
they are hardly possible to find.

Oh, our screaming demons,
they like to visit us at night
and if they never sleep,
so neither do we.

These past few days I’ve been waking up to the same dream, the same sweat-soaked bed sheets, the same sun greeting my morning eyes through the sheer curtain of sadness.

“I’ve been here before,” I said as I was having a long walk on the beach, my eyes adored the sunset and the picturesque mountains. The sea; our favorite place. We loved as each wave came, rushing to greet us, one by one like racing horses. “I’ve heard this before,” this beautiful melody. A chuckle, a laugh that sounded more like a lullaby. You sang to me every night when I couldn’t sleep.

“I’ve felt this before,” this longing, this heartache when I felt the world crashing on our feet, that first serious fight. I gripped your shirt tight when I felt the universe pulling us apart, but you didn’t hold back, you have let me slip away from you.

I’ve been waking up from this familiar memory, from this place we called happily; but the familiar face was gone and this unfamiliar feeling is slowly eating me up each day as I try to remember. I’ve been visiting the places, and the forgotten days like a déjà vu but this time, I am not with you.

When i stroke my pen
to write this,
I wonder if you imagined
that i'm a poet
As i wake from another
disbanded sunrise,
I wonder if you screamed
me out of this pessimistic vision
Everytime i would pedal
my bike during the hot summer,
I still think if i ever breathed
the air that evaded your lips
and while i do that,
Each time you make coffee
for the weekends,
I wonder if you guessed that someday you will have to share it
with a familiar person
of the future
Whenever the eyes cry salty tears,
have you sailed your deepest
thoughts on a paperboat?
Like finding me in the ends
of the world after the
midst of calamities
I guessed both of us may wonder,
in a sea of strangers
at a broken
streetlight,
Will we recognize
each other?