nais kong magpaalam sa
        kislap ng 'yong mga mata
        tono ng 'yong mga tawa
        at sa lutong ng 'yong
putang ina

kasi sa totoo lang,
        pagod na 'kong maghintay

i knew it
but still, it hurts
it's the first time
i wish you would've lied to me

Fighting my demons are always hard
For they have the poet's mind
That lured me in their metaphors of
the taste of the sun
or the comfort of solitude

They pull me in between their lines of
Desperation and depression
As if basking in the sunlight will make it less empty

They tangle me in the swirl of the words
Embracing me with each broken thorn of a flower,
or every drizzle of the rain, or every blanket of snow
or the feel of the breeze
As if those imagery
will make it less painful;
Written in papyrus with the ink as thick as blood and teardrops on the footnotes
As if those drops can lessen the burden that clutches my chest

They envelope me with every space
in between their words
as if letting me breathe
but then they enter
cutting the peace in between letters
but never putting a period
to end this miserable excuse for a poem
they made me

It's all a hallucination
An endless illusion
for in the end
I'm still chained,
existing with this void inside
and with my demons
Eating the life out of me

Then suddenly pressing save
for all the world to see
without even really
saving me

You're a page torn
From my diary
Keeping all my secrets
Accepting my demons
Calming my  3 am thoughts

Inks are smudged
Tear marks are dried
You kept them all
But you were the very
Reminder of all that's ****** up
in my life

You're a page torn
From my diary
Used, crushed, messy
Still, it's my biggest regret
To cut you off

And then he didn't come back

The summers passed, autumns faded, winters roared, and springs bloomed but he's nowhere to be seen.

As she made her way to the shore, she felt the gentle breeze and the embrace of the waves and as she looked up; she saw the moon alone in the vast nothingness of the sky with no star to keep her company.

She remembered him, thinking that maybe the stars are gone for the moon is too broken and is not as illuminated as it was the first time.

Then she remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. His eyes shone so bright, held much admiration in his gaze that she couldn't understand for she is nothing sort of a goddess the moon had blessed.

None of her poems caught the light and the life in his eyes when they first met: of how it looked silver and storm that reflects his turbulent emotions, of how his eyes reached the depths of her soul with his gaze, of how he saw her as his moon.

None of them could ever describe how his eyes demand to be stared at. None of them.

But then, he was a fleeting light like a poem you will only read once for it is blindingly painful that it hurts looking the second time.

And now, she feels a part of her is missing as she search for the stars up above.

And then she fixed her gaze, closing her eyes to the moon: wishing that when he said "It's because of you." He doesn't mean goodbye. Wishing he doesn't mean she's the reason why he's gone. Wishing that dreams aren't supposed to be just dreams for when they become reality, they take away the magical feeling.

A few tears escaped her closed lids and glistened as they bathe on the light of the moon as she thought of the last poem she'll ever write to him.

And then she finally whispered hoping the wind will bring it to him:

" And maybe,
   paintings and poetry
   couldn't hold a candle
   To every emotion
   we once had.

    You
    hold a key
    when we
    first met.

    I should've known
    that that key
    is not for me

    For I
    was never
    your home. "

Love isn't blind,
blind are those,
who never loved.