the way your cheeks feel on my palms
that little stubble on your chin
the red spots on your space
because you're allergic to just about everything (but me)

i miss the familiarity of you
i miss the way your voice cracks when you sing blink-182 songs
the way your accent always shows no matter what language you use
i miss the the way you impress everyone because
you sound so different to them but so familiar to me

these men i **** do not compare to you
and i may be the most amazing lover to them
but they do not know what you have done to me
the way i will touch the sun if it means you get to live
a thousand more happy lifetimes

i miss the familiarity of you
the way you have shown me what love means
and if love truly is just a choice
i know in each universe that exists
id have chosen you,
always you.

because know this, dear:

you are my sunset, my sunrise
my stars who stay even through night and day
you are my achilles
my archangel, my lucifer
you are everything i could ever ask for
you are familiarity itself.

You are my anchor.
in this sea of confusion
i choose you.

no waves could ever weather
what we have
and what we could be.

for this love is time immemorial
older than the first bubbles that sprouted from earth
and created life itself.

and if poseidon compels me
to worship him,
i will not bow.

i have surrendered these waters
only for You to swim in,
my deity.

But I sure as hell think
It would taste like this

It would taste like:
Sabrina Carpenter songs at 6am
Wearing heels
Taking an hour to choose an outfit
Putting on makeup
The urge to text you
The urge to kiss you
The urge to hug you from the back
Waking up to the thought of you
Sleeping to the idea of you

I tell myself
"In two weeks,  
I'll get over this"
Because I always do

But until then,
I'll just be this *******-ridden girl
With withdrawal symptoms

No words could ever encapsulate
Our existence
Save for this one:

Flawedness

The flawedness in being
In becoming
The flawedness of our stories
Like the girl too afraid to try
The girl who has tried everything yet yearns for more
The boy who cannot feel
The boy too tired of feeling
The person living despite it all

"How are you?"

I am existing
Living
Trying
Being
Like the rest of us

While lust is a sweetened latte
Both in their own ways good
Though one easier to swallow
One is healthier, the other a desire
One gives a sugar crash, the other pure coffee flavor

Sometimes you find both your Americano and latte in one person
Sometimes you don’t - and that's okay
Sometimes you need a sprinkle of milk and sugar every now and then
Sometimes having it plain's enough to get you through the day

But no matter how many ways I’ve had my coffee
I always come back to you, my Americano
Simple, bitter, and just right

because others could not have it
Guilt taught me I could not watch videos of people ******* because ******* was a sin
And that my body was sacred so only a man I loved
and was married to could touch it

For as long as I remember
He was there, smiling

When I was seven,
My mother told me I was born a sinner
And guilt was just the desire to be forgiven from this natural condition
So every time my body pressed against a pillow
Rhythmically
In my grandmother’s room
With no one
but the sight of Guilt judging me with His piercing eyes —
I did not question it

I was a sinner
Simply for loving my own body

Pasayloa ko… pasayloa mi sa among mga sala, my mother chanted in every prayer —

I repeated it, obeyed it, until I came to believe it

So when I stopped believing
When I knew I stopped believing
He was there, patiently
Bidding me to come back

Even as I rode through bliss
Rhythmically
Hair pulled back, the bed damp
Used condoms at the side
Breathlessly eating and being eaten out by
this man I just met

His piercing eyes, unflinching stare
****** me harder than anyone ever did

Guilt was my religion —
And I was His prodigal child

Isn't it crazy
That we cross paths with some people
For a mere moment in our lives
Never to see them again
How big the world is
How many stories untold
If I live long enough
I wish to listen
To all these stories
I wish to experience
The bitter, sweet, painfully ironic
blip it is
To be human
7.88 billion more times

One time I saw an intricate bouquet of blue roses by the garbage room
I wonder how many other roses have been thrown out
Because of our human tendency to hope, to love
Or to hurt, with or without meaning to
It could have been a couple fighting
A rejected somebody
Someone who simply hated blue roses
A frustrated florist
These are stories I will never know

You may not always reach the high notes
but you try
and that's why I love you

Sharing an imaginary kith
Through straws
I may be getting older, but boy does
That give me schmetterlinge

I wanna cuddle under blankets
As we sit beside each other in the plane
Flying to wherever
But for now, that might just be a dream
As I sit across a couple cuddling
Imagining what could be
And wake up as every second I go farther     away from        
            
you

Maybe one day my love we could be that too
But for now we shall wait past
sunrises and sundowns
airports and city skylines
blinding lights
heavy traffic

solitude

until we’re in each other’s arms again
Wait for me, okay?

feeling is a double-edged sword
on one hand, you write poems, fall in love, make art
on the other, you see scars from feeling too much

never thought I’d want you again
never thought I’d need you again
but I’m scared to lose what I feel
how I feel
when I feel

so tell me what I should choose
to feel, to write
or to not feel ever again, to slowly die inside —

which?

i hate how much i think about you
how you pull my hair
kiss my neck with your stubble
i hate how much i think about you
when im with him
him and his ever so wholesome mind
yet you, you make me want
to be consumed whole
****** until i can no longer breathe
i hate how much i think about you
make me scream your name
make me feel the pain
you asked me if you ****** better than he did
and im afraid to say its true
because while im with him
im missing you
the whole of you
can i just say these chemicals
are ******* up my brain
and i hate you for making me feel this way
every ******* day
that passes you aren't pushing me on the sheets
because the devil called
i answered
and now there's no going back

you've ****** me up completely.

Bare bodies intertwine
Lingering warmth feels divine
I think to myself, "I would die for this"

Though now we are far away
Screens just do not feel the same
I think to myself, "I would wait for this"

Ice cold in my room
The dim flicker of a joke on your face
I think to myself, "I would smile for this"

Til I come back to you
I will wait, smile, and die a thousand times so
I think to myself, "I would live for this"

is a feat rarely anyone
can make nowadays
but if I try and take a step
towards making the world a kinder place
would I make a difference?
What if I can't?
What if I fail?
What if we don't know about kind people because
they turn into bitter tales?
What if it's a lie?
What if I try?
What if.... this is all just a selfish thought,
and the world would be better off
without anyone at all?

I feel at peace when I’m with you

I look forward to the future
Where I can be next to you

Maybe just see your face
All the beautiful parts
That make you, you

And there, everything would be right
There, everything would make sense to me

And maybe, just maybe

That’s a good enough reason to try.

Not at all
But that’s me


Anxiety isn’t pretty.

If there’s one reason why I haven’t done it
It is hurting a child who cannot decipher
What losing someone means
I cannot be the first explanation
I don’t want to be
Yet why does it hurt to exist?
Why do I feel like there’s only one path for me
To be a mere name in the news
To be forgotten and be read by people who seek solace
Or those who seek pain
Will one less person in the world make a difference?
I wish I knew.

But yes, I do.

I cannot be selfish, right?
That’s how it is.

So I live until I find a reason not to.

Just one more.
Just once more.
Every time we hug,
My heart refuses to let go.

Sometimes a furry face
Is all that you need to remind you
How lovely you are

You don't need to be superhuman
To save someone
You, my ordinary human being,
Have saved me
From the fear of falling
By telling me I could fly all along.

You wake up three hours after I do
I sleep three hours earlier than you
Sometimes three hours is all it takes
To realize we're not all the same
And that's okay
Because love is a constant wait
And I would wait for you each day
Forever, if I may
Just to see that smiling face
Again.

I listen to the humming
It echoes inside
That is your music

IF I WRITE THINGS IN CAPITAL LETTERS
WOULD I FINALLY BE HEARD
WOULD I BE ABLE TO SAY THINGS BETTER
WOULD I?

because the candle is flicking out
I douse myself in gasoline
but all I get is
a momentary blaze

and it hurts

How many people die every second
How many people are forgotten every second
One day you will be a statistic
One day you will be none
**** it
Life is not meant to be taken so seriously
Just live
Just live
For one second,
Just… live.

I’m running out of poems

I need another reason to write again.

well, you see, writers can’t help but write
it’s a part of who we are
the thing is we are
hoarders of words
but givers of truth
maybe man’s footprints get washed away
by the seas
but a writer’s ink does not dry
until it finishes its story

things did get better
you just had to believe in it

;

snugglewumpus
snookie cookie
munch munch
snarky warky
snek snacc
banana toosh
kelpy brain
lovable dork
marshmallow ****
but most of all:
my favourite poet

poems are great
but not as great as you
art is great
but not as great as you
ice cream too
but hey,
still not as great as you

on an average
we think 50,000 thoughts each day
40,000 of which are negative
dear, that 10,000 is you

let your fingers roam
upon my deep blue seas
Aphrodite’s seafoam
heaving under me
hightides upon shallow land
waves pound forth ragged lands
a race towards the shore
by the gods you make me want more

Numbskull or numbheart
or Numbmind
Numbsmile

Everyday I wear a tear-stained shirt
It stains itself … every so often

To the point its gotten used to its new color

Blank blank nothing but blank
Sometimes I forget the happy things I used to write to myself
Out of anger
I wish I just got better
But nothing seems to change
I wrote, nothing seems to change
Why the **** does nothing always change?








Why?

Blotched
ink
blotched paper
Blotched
everything
It’s not easy to
Write
Sometimes

I’m afraid that’s all I’ll ever be.

An old man begged outside the car
Under scorching heat
I didn’t know if by keeping the windows closed
I kept the cool in
Or kept the heat out
As  the smoke billowed around me
Blinded me from the poverty
And only coldness remained in my heart
Never to come out

I can name what it’s not:
Not the likes
Not the fame
Not the power
Not the money
Not the knowledge
Not the pleasure
Not anything else
I can name what it is:
Your smile
Your voice
Your laugh
Your jokes
Your warm touch
The feeling of home
The safety and comfort to be
That is what happiness is to me.