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Tita Halaman Feb 2021
How can you sleep?
Only to dream
How can you sing?
Words you don’t mean
How can you try?
Without aiming to win
And how can you love?
Without giving it

I need to learn, I need to see
How can you even turn,
something real to a dream?
How can you do it?
How come I’m still wondering?
In the middle of an ocean
of tears, I swam
of blood, I sailed
all day, all night
for you
Tita Halaman Feb 2021
Tell me,
how can you sing
words you don’t mean?
Forgive me,
I’ve never known, I’ve never heard
music
like that
Until,
you left
Tita Halaman Jan 2021
then, it filled me loathing
wondering, why can’t I?
stop
these tears
they show up, they disgust me
they fall, they swim
into places I have been
into cracks, onto pavements
of my never-ending dream
just to find out
that the queen
is just a girl, to your film
just a verse of a song, you don’t mean
just a myth, my reality can’t win
A poem for a painting
Tita Halaman Jan 2021
seems like everyone’s in a hurry
writing their future, changing their stories
so dear, wouldn’t it be lovely?
to cling some time in a memory
some things I wished I had before
some things I wrote and worked hard for
so now, to drive back once more
a solace, a comfort, a fill-in to my core
Tita Halaman Jan 2021
to you, how true
I’ll never win
I’ll hold your hand
I’ll wash them clean
I’ll kiss the blame
the lines between
your hair, your eyes
your frowning disguise
I’ll cry the pain
I’d lick the shame
and I won’t complain
for still,
I’m a lucky one
for I’ve never felt so true
I’ve never loved someone
a lucky one like you
Tita Halaman Jan 2021
tons of strokes laid onto sheets day by day
it won’t stop, it can’t hear what they say
it’ll always hope, it’ll always pray
one day, one morning
my forehead straight to sunbeams
I’d kiss the grief away
I’d ******* dreams and stay
for I’ll never quit, I’ll never fold
I’ll touch, I’ll lick, every pain I sold
one day, one morning
I might lose, yet never be losing
faith
so I’ll try again
Tita Halaman Jan 2021
Slip, flub, try
See? The aim’s still there
As the rich man cries
Whiff, chip, fly
The dream’s still there
Above the bluer skies
Here, he who pays the piper calls the tune
Yet, dime a dozen men can’t get the moon
So I repeat,
Slip, flub, try
And I won’t stop
A poem for a painting
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