he's a heartbreaker with the world at his fingertips,
he glows nonchalantly without trying,
he's devil-may-care, he laughs freely like cherubs
and his life is set out like a map,
the distance between us ever growing

and i am merely another flower in bloom
among a field of daisies,
i walk on pavements with my head down,
so adrift, a deer caught in the headlights,
and i'm always wishing i were somewhere else

but despite the differences of our universes, i wonder,
does he ever get lonely too?
does he still have time to stop and smell the flowers?
is there somebody he can talk to?
and does he think about what it is like
to live an ordinary life like mine?

perhaps on one cloudy day,
by chance, if the universe would allow,
an unlikely exchange could transpire—
he can hide from those flashing lights
and i can run from my worries,
and on a little bench where our disparate worlds will collide,
we can sit together
to simply talk and watch the world go by.

dear icarus,

i've watched you toil your youth away
all because you have been growing your wings of freedom
to be freed from the life you are locked in

with your calloused hands,
you have put on your wings of feathers and wax,
you are ready to fly across oceans
and escape from this labyrinth
of loneliness and fatigue

but icarus, remember those wings may break
you're shining boyishly, you're coming close to all those stars like stage lights
after aching and fading in the dark
you are seeing the sun for the first time
and it is all you want
but even the brightest and prettiest of lights can burn you out

icarus, come back safely
remember the world beneath you
and the love that the earth
has given you all these years
fly back down here
and i will do all i can to keep you safe.
before the ocean of wreckage pulls you into its depths
and it is too late

Alone.
By September until who knows when, that is how I will start and end my days.
Calm mornings will no longer begin with the sound of your chatter.
Dead silence will fill the air as I eat my dinner all alone.
Every empty chair will be a reminder that you are not home.
From spending almost every waking hour together, we will only exchange brief messages each day.
Growing up has led us to this—one of you in Manila and the other one in Tokyo.
I’ll feel stuck in the four corners of my little room while you’re both someplace else.
Just the thought of not having both of you around makes me feel like a deer caught in the headlights.
Kisses, embraces, and affectionate teasing only older sisters could ever give will become less frequent…
Loneliness is something I have never known.
Mom and Dad will still be here, but they will be busy too, and I would not want to bother them.
Nothing will fill in the spaces of the house the way they’re occupied while you’re here—
One of you painting in watercolor by the windowsill, the other one listening to music until the wee hours of the morning.
Please always tell me about your day while you’re away, no matter how ordinary or great it may be.
Q¬uiet the noises that will shout in the head of a younger sister who is all alone.
Rise and live the way you have always wanted, but don’t forget about me.
Shine to the world the way you shine in my eyes.
Think of me as I think of you.
Ultimately, all I will do will come down to waiting for you to come back home.
Vinyls we share will rarely spin, the books we borrow from one another will be left to dust on the shelves.
What was once a house filled to the brim with voices and love only sisters could have will feel spacious and empty.
Xylophone clanging and the strumming of the guitar from the childhood we shared will seem so distant, but I will do all I can to make it feel like you are not far away—
Your favorite song will come up on the radio on some nights and I will sing along as we would sing together:
*“Ziggy played guitar, jamming good with Weird and Gilly, and the spiders from Mars….”

"I have to unlove you a little," the girl said as she put her pen down.
He replied: why would you ever?
"I have to save my love for you; I have to save it for future days."
He frowned. "It sounds like you're saying goodbye. As if one day your feelings for me will disappear because of having loved me too much this very moment."
She shook her head. "I don't think I'll ever stop loving you though, if I give you just small amounts of it everyday. But you, would you still be the same, even if I cut down on the amount I usually give per day?"
He understood where she was going. "As long as you give me love, even down to the tiniest drop of it, I'll still love you all the same. And when you run out of it and can give no more, that's when I'll refill you with all the love you have filled me up with after all this time."
"One can never really run out of love, can they? Give or take. It's still love."
"Love is love-- give or take, small or big; doesn't matter as long as it exists-- if it's you I'm loving."

Two beings of above--the sun and the moon, once loved each other a long time ago, only to lose each other and themselves through the expanse of time and space.
...
Now, there is a certain girl who fell in love with a certain boy, with the expanse of time and space between them. I love you, she says to the sky, in hopes of the wind bringing her words to him. I hope to see you again, soon.
...
And the boy, in his walking pace, randomly stops. Do boys wonder about their soulmates as much as girls do too? Because he certainly did. I would reach for your soul with my hand if I could, he said to no one in particular. Wait for me, again and again. I would reach you soon.
...
A breeze picks up and tucks a stray strand of the girl's hair behind her ear. She felt her palm grow warm, as if her hand was being held by another-- by his hand. She felt a tug in her, as if her soul was being tied to another-- to his soul. She closed her eyes and let the wind, her silent messenger, caress her face as she took a breath. *"I'll wait for you, and for us to rise again: against all dark odds and in this expanse of time and space."

rich with red passion
deep shades of blue
a girl in love with
the way people speak
and who pouches
rainbows in her room
a little flame
lit up for her love
for this boy
who's miles away
one day
she'll see him:
without her wearing colors
with no barriers of speech
a simple look
a simple hello
he'll be in her reach

Your broken guitars,
My finished sketchbooks--
That's how we are right now.

No more songs meant for me,
No more completed portraits of you;
We're blank and make no sound.

What if, back then, I had stayed?
What if, back then, I had fought?
Would I have loved you til the end?

What if, back then, you had found me?
What if, back then, you felt the same?
Would you have held on to my hand?

"He always closes the door whenever he leaves the room."

That was one habit of his which I appreciated, knowing he was considerate enough. But I never knew I would come to detest it, or even regret loving it.

Until this morning.
He never returned.

"Keep your friends close,
and your enemies closer,"
Is what they say.

But nothing hurts more than
Keeping the ones you love close,
But the one you couldn't love, closer.