Dalawang barkong
Magkasalubong
Lulubog?
Lalayag?
O di kaya'y lulutang
Mananatili kung nasaan
Walang ibang rason kundi
Nandito

I would share your bed forever
That even in clothes
I'll always feel naked with you

Someday, I wish I could be
to you
What you are to me
Now
You deserve as much
You deserve so much
I fear I'll never be
Good for you

in times like these I wish there were
a God I believed in
   whose words and teachings
   I consume day by day
   from when I awake to when I sleep
   before a meal and after a trip
   just so I know I'll be saved
   just so I know I am saved
   just so I know
   I can be safe

in times like these I wish there were
a God who has a plan
   so perfect and precise
   every little tear I cry every night
   is designed to flow and collect
   enough to cleanse
   until all the sadness is washed off of me
   until everything would seem right

in times like these I wish there were
a God who could explain
  why living is pain
  how anger turns to pain
  when living became pain

in times like these I wish there were
a God I could blame.

A deep breathe in the mirror
A mirror! Breathe in deep!
A deep reflection
Look within, deep!
The deep mirror?
What mirror is deep?
Maybe a lake or the sea?
What do you see?
Reflect the deep.
The deep can only be a mirror when still.
Reflect on what is still deep inside
Reflect what is still
Imitate the water
Echo its calm
Calm with deep breaths.
Calmly breathe
Breathe deep
Breathe by the deep end
Deep ene
The end,
And then begin again

i've only ever locked lips with boys,
and although you're younger than most,
you're the man i want to kiss.

it's so cold
i'm starting to miss the warmth of self-forgiveness
i wish i hadn't left my jacket at home

you remind me of quiet weekends —
of breezy morning air touching skin,
of warm bright sunlight touching skin,
of silent calm waves touching skin,
of bed silk covers touching skin,
of skin touching skin.

i am scared of being in high places
like looking out the windows of high rise buildings,
or walking to the edges of cliffs
they say it's never really the Fear of Heights,
but rather the Fear of Falling.

not for me though, no

what really scares me
is the thought of changing my mind about falling
all the while plummeting down to my death

we once watched a movie together
where the protagonist obsessed over the social constructs of beauty.

she'd chant relentlessly
i'm happy when i'm beautiful
i'm happy
when i'm beautiful
i'm
happy
i'm
beautiful - -

or was it the other way around?

i'm beautiful when i'm happy

whatever it was, i just wanna say
i miss being beautiful with you.

i used to think about you
in the hazy moments
before a class lecture ends and a quiz begins
where i zone out
between writing my name
and answering the first question
how i zone out
half-asleep and half-bored,
but enthusiastic with the idea
of studying for exams with you.

i used to think about you
in the quiet moments
after a long *** day balancing school and work
where i walk
from the gate
to your front door step
how i walk
tired and exhausted,
but energized with the idea
of talking to you.

i keep things to myself,
                                   and still feel empty.
oh, how twisted language can be.

i look up at the sky
to see a flashing light.
4 and a half secods later,
thunder disturbs the quiet night;
the storm is yet far away,
and so are you.
you never liked thunderstorms;
i can only hope that now, you do.

how lucky are we,
to be living in an earth
with a shadow so big
it could cover a blue moon
in a night sky so dark and wide,
that despite being hundreds of miles away from our families,
we still get to watch the same phenomenal sight that they too could see?

everyday i wake up, i harvest my will to get up from my bed
from the thought that every day is a day closer to my death.

"No one's gonna love you if you don't love yourself"* is what they always say.
I finally understand why I still doubt everyone who came to stay.

Please, just for today, don't say it.
I already know I'm a disappointment.

a roadtrip to somewhere,
just so we could watch a meteor shower.

we didn't even know exactly where to go,
only that we wanted to watch the shooting stars without the city's glow.

at first adrenaline filled our somber and tired selves;
we were all fueled with the idea of seeing something magical at twelve.

then came the rush of being lost in lonely, secluded roads.
suddenly we realized, this trip, to our parents we should've told.

whose is that car parked at the other side of the highway?
were they here even before we stopped to look at the meteors fall away?
should we flee or should we stay?
i don't want this to be our last day.

oh god please help us
we're running out of gas

and just as we are consumed with panic,
and fear of strangers in places, dark and exotic
we drive back to the city,
where the people are awake and much less creepy.

when the lamposts became brighter,
and the surroundings no longer sinister,
where the stars we so longed for became much hazier,
we simply laughed at our cowardice,
and at our overly-hightened suspiciousness.

as dull, yet terrifying the world can be,
even with rare astronomical phenomenas that are oh so sightly,
adventures are really, no less scary.
yet everything can still feel mesmerizing,
and even reassuring,
so long as you are able to find just the right company.

i'm just so lonely or so angry
all the ******* time;
it's become so easy to keep track of days
when i feel fine.

you make me want to write.
how cruel it is to know,
that you aren't mine
to write about.

Umiiyak nanaman ang langit
habang ako'y narito, naiinggit.

Gusto ko rin sanang lumuha
ngunit mga mata ko'y pagod na.

the neighbors are fast asleep,
all the lights off in a blackout.

tonight feels so eerily quiet,
with all the crickets waiting out.

i just want to write poetry,
but you are all i think about

n.
to still find you in poems
and know that it's *okay
to remember you in words
that describe only what used to be and didn't stay.

I miss you,
in songs I haven't heard in a long while.

I miss you,
in small talks that we used to not have.

I miss you,
and I wish I didn't have to.

Do you know that feeling
of familiarity
that quickly turns into
perplexity?

Like when you stare
at an unsuspicious word
a minute too long
and then suddenly,
you start to *doubt why it's spelled that way.

I don't think
that I will ever
feel that way with you.

You take so much of it,
From me.

In my daydreams,
with a script imagined out of idealism,
filled with a seamless string of events
almost as if every tiny detail has its own biography.
The way a scene is choreographed for an awfully flawless performance,
like a single foot positioned an inch too far would make the masterpiece a fiasco.
In perfectly crafted scenarios too fragile for them to be acted out in reality.

In the songs I listen to,
not from the lyrics, no.
But in the rhythms that sound like my heartbeats,
whenever I hear your laugh that is mundanely common,
yet so notable that I still think of you whenever I hear it from other people.
A tune that feels like a glimpse of ethereal blessing, but still unharmonious for other people.
In melodies that resonate how it feels like to hear beauty in frequencies that others simply overlook.

i miss the feeling
of being stuck
   on someone
   on something
   on anyone
   on anything.

i miss the ability
of feeling
    love
    hate
    anything that isn't emptiness.

i wonder,
how can i feel so trapped
here in this empty space

i wonder,
how can i be trapped
in nothingness

I wonder,
how do we
get stranded
whilst chasing?

i wonder
why we feel
a sense
of entitlement
for things
      or even for people
we don't even want.

Once, I fell for a traveler
whose eyes sought the beautiful.
But even those who were simply mundane
didn't even have to worry a thing,
for he always saw the best within.

Never have I ever been a destination.
More like ruins that give the illusion
that abandon could exhibit beauty.
But his map was never way too full
for more pushpins on places he'd rule
with polaroid films and blank canvasses,
that only his eyes and hands can caress.

But little did I know that he was
more on an adventure than just a petty tour.
That when time came for him to move on,
I'm sure I forgot, here wasn't his home.

At least, in the roster, I exist.
One of the places he chose to visit.

I just want to find my will to live.
Or maybe my will to leave.

I don't know anymore.

I know I should go.
I should stand up and leave this corner
Where I sit and do nothing but
Listen to the raindrops splattering down the roof
And feel my head throbbing with the need to rest.

How did I ever get so stuck?

i want to write so badly.

to spill some ink
   as dark and deep as the negativity flowing in me
or to paint words
   as colorful and carefree as the laughs I've faked
on pages
   as blank and barren as my feelings.

the way it could make anyone listen
        to the thunders,
        to the howling winds,
        to the weather forecasts,
to anything that could make the shock of the storm seem bearable.
       like preparing for something
       actually makes you ready for it.
the way the water droplets plummet
       so quickly,
       so carelessly,
       so unhesitant
so vulnerable to gravity.
       like falling apart or falling down can be a choice
       without anyone looking down at you.

n.*
And just when I thought I'd have reached you,
My fingers touch nothing but vapors.

In this fast-paced world
where I was burning out,
you dimmed all the lights
just so I could see
I could still shine bright.

You do it,
and it's wrong.
They do it,
and it's right.
You mess up,
and they tell you to own up to your mistakes.
They mess up,
and they tell you to move on,
to just get over it,
to let it just slide,
because we're all human anyway.

**I just didn't know
that being human
meant you had to be of age.

I could talk about you for days
And still you wouldn't know who I was referring to.
Darling, I wish you'd see yourself the way that I do.

I did not want to write.

Maybe because I didn’t know
If it were right for me
To ache with such feelings:
To feel the abandonment of,
And feel the longing for
The arms that always seemed to be there to catch me,
But never there to hold me for long.
To hear the voice
That had always calmed my raging thoughts.
But never in those moments
Have I ever heard it with my own ears.

I did not want to write.

Maybe because I didn’t know
If I even deserved
To feel this sad, and so alone
When all I’ve never done
Was to make you feel the opposite
Of what I’m feeling right now.
To feel like I have lost
A love
That I never even gave a chance to begin with.

I did not want to write.**

But I guess,
There’s nothing else I could do
To hoard and keep-
Or maybe to squander and let go
Of the suffering
That may not even be love
But just a blind infatuation.