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 Feb 18 Anne Scintilla
Yan F
whenever i feel sad
i try my best
to remind myself
that once stars have
torn themselves apart
in order to make me whole...

so i've been loved by the heavens
way before i was forgotten by you.
or maybe i've always been in pieces
even before i met you...

happy valentines???
also if you don't know what kintsugi means, search it up :> you're welcome :3
 Feb 18 Anne Scintilla
imai
only the good die young
the wretched stretch and fold
gray then mold
all the sinners inevitably grow old
if this is truly so,
then afterlife’s keeper must be
cruel and cold
treating life as a commodity only
while it sweats gold
of such saying, I’ve been told
and retold
life for the good runs so quickly
it slips your hold

if all good things must come to an end
then,
I shall live forever.
 Oct 2018 Anne Scintilla
Luna
This is for you:

-the girl who is so ashamed because of her acne,
-the girl who cries in front of her mirror because she doesn’t
look like Picasso’s muse,
-the girl who forgot how to smile because of her problems,
-the girl who cries her eyes out every night because of him,
-the girl who is so terrified to attach because of her past relationship,
-the girl who is different from the others,
-the girl who wants to save every soul she meets, except hers,
-the girl whose heart, blood and soul runs wild,

-you are so much more than the sprinkles from your skin.
-you're not Picasso’s muse, but you definitely are God’s muse.
-don’t waste your life being so stressed, just enjoy the journey.
-you need to be strong.Cry your heart out, but stop,your tears are too worthy , make them rare, for the real ones.
-try to love yourself first, then someone else.
-your future is not defined by your past.
-you need to save yourself first.
-run with them, darling, and never look back.

This is for you, girls.
You, no matter what, are good enough.
You are lovable.
You are strong.
You are independent.
You are different.
You are rare.
You are you, and that is your power, learn how to use it.
love yourself, girl
 Oct 2018 Anne Scintilla
Yan F
it was all my fault
          you were drenched in crimson
you just laid there
motionless
not a single
strand of your
snow white hair
left unpainted
with red—
     so still
  so pitiful
            so unnerving
so remorseful
         so convenient
                and so **** sad
      that you're still bleeding.
             clutching to
                  what's left
of your poor
          masochistic breath
                         as if
                 you're too sure
     that this time
              i'll hear you out...
   why won't you be?
          i was so sure
                  you'd be shouting it out
       anyway.    
just
like
how
you
scream
             'go to ****'
    or
           'go **** yourself'
                         or
  'die now please'
                                            or
        'you look like a taxi in that suit'
              or
                      'i hate you'
         or
                                          'i love you'
                  you'd scream everything.
    always.
                  like when you said
         'i'll always be there for you'
   and
          'i hope you never come back'
                           when you were hurt
                 you'd shout curses
                      like a prayer
      when you were drunk
   you'd screech songs
             like a drifting car.
                   but right then
                                      you whispered.
         and you whispered so softly
   it was more unbelievable
              than the fact that
      i heard it more clealy
           more soundly
                                     than the time
                    you screamed
    'i'm done putting up with you.'
          "tell me a little lie"
                 "and tell me you'll never"
     "ever leave me this time."
              and you were so peaceful
   this one single exeptional time
          as you tried ever so
                    unsettlingly
              to catch your breath.
        i simply couldn't resist.
                  "i promise."
   "i'll never leave you."
                        "ever."
     "cross my heart and hope to die."
               but you never
          did listen did you?
it was all your fault
i'm drenched in crimson
some promises just can't be broken
So it all fell apart again
My search history is full of numbers to overdose on
Maybe now it's the end
After all, I'm the irrational one
The world "revolves around me"
I think this time I'm done
The shattered pieces of my life slice deep
No one cares anymore how I feel
Every night recently I've cried myself to sleep
There is no point in trying to "prove them [everyone] wrong"
My heart has grown heavy and I see nothing to smile about
Regardless they'll still play my Funeral March song
And as they carry me away and into the ground
There will be music and my voice will ring in their minds
I will hear the cries screaming so loud
Mom, dad, brother, sister, boyfriend, mon ami, did I ever make you proud?
-
The beauty of Chopin and Beethoven in their minor keys is that the chords on the piano or the harmonics of the violin soothe my sorrowful soul with singing symphonic melodies that capture my sadness in a sometimes simple tune
-
To those who see this, will you tell them I never left a note?
I couldn't devote the time or bring myself to write to them a final goodbye
I want them to hang on to what ever words I last spoke to them
I want tears shed over my cheap gravestone that my parents didn't want to spend good money on
Especially for someone who was dead
Because they knew I couldn't complain if I never saw it
I want the "annoying" songs I used to play for them on the piano to fill their hearts with pain every time they hear them
I want the nostalgia and longing for me to linger in every lucid dream
I want my straight A report cards to receive a mere "good job" even if posthumously
-
There is pain in the most beautiful things in life
My eyes sparkle the most when I cry the hardest
The vibrant green becomes even more vivid with each swelling crystal drop
-
Tell them I was finally able to do something correctly
That I was finally able to succeed and go through with it
Tell them to wipe their tears with my lavender scented t-shirts
Tell them my love of pink and black was the weirdest thing about me
Although we know that wasn't quite the weirdest
Tell them whenever they see a butterfly or a flower or an animal crossing the street, that I would've shed a tear for its natural beauty
Tell them I tried my hardest to keep up with the rigor of life
Tell them that eventually every car runs out of gas
Tell them that the song, even if on repeat, will always end the same
Tell them to read my favourite books and try to understand why I loved the literature so much
Tell them not everyone is cut out for life and that sometimes people break and can't do it anymore
-
Towards the end my heart only struck dissonant chords
My fingers bled trying to pull the piano wire back into its proper position
I just wanted to be happy but the major chords and the consonance were out of reach
With my stick straight back I tried to fix the broken keys but nothing seemed to stay in place
-
I wonder what will happen now when I close my eyes and enter a deep sleep
Will I meet God or the Devil himself?
Or will it be just that... sleep
-
So many thoughts and so little time for me to complete them
The hourglass pours the sands of time too quickly now
The blurring ceiling sways in patterns, then up and down
I reach my hand to the sky as I lay on the ground
My tears cascade into the watery red pool around me
-
I don't want to bring this to an end
You who read this are my only friend
-
I said I'm tired and I should sleep
But you didn't know I meant I'd forever be done counting sheep
The moment I slip into an unconscious state
Saving me will already be too late
-
Play on repeat Chopin
Tell me how the song makes you feel now versus then
-
And only silence remained
As her tears still rained
And her last fleeting breath was drained
 Jul 2018 Anne Scintilla
Yan F
Serenity was her face—
Yet it felt like wildfire…
Three in the morning and          
its as if                  
she doesn’t even care        
how badly it is
raining.        
Amid the thousand city stars,            
just like she    
can see none of them—
she outshines all of them anyway…                
All she does is stare                                          
and I am just so              
so sure  
she is staring        
so much deeper...                    
as her eyes are covered  
   by her soaking wet hair                  
I so can simply tell.
So intently.
It is like a few hours        
only before daybreak                              
and its still like                                  
  afternoon                                      
counting the many            
restless feet                              
  of passersby                                            
continuously                                                     ­ 
slapping the wet pavement                              
slapping the soaked water                                
slapping my drenched face                              
And the only thing I can think about is thirst.  
Countless weary eyes          
watching recklessly tirelessly glancing shamelessly—

It’s like the only thing missing              
is a silver screen.                        
I can’t even tell teardrop                
from raindrop apart.      
Dripping.
Dropping.
Creeping down      
her crumbling face              
Eyes covered            
by the quickly  
fading                    
green                        
highlights                
   of her hair.                        
She is glowing while              
equally drowning…                                  
I can basically tell                                
how hard                                                  
she’s trying to keep the cold                          
I know how easily she chills          
I can actually see her shiver                
straight through          
her black Penshoppe hoodie I gave her…      
I know because                  
every                  
single                  
time                  
we stand under the rain      
she just can’t help                        
  but hold me.            
And I’d embrace her.                          
And she’d snug by my shoulders.              
It’s a lot cuter the way I remember it.            
Now all she does is stand there.                              
Hands both clenched                    
so **** tight        
they just could              
so easily burst.    
Shaking—                    
With not even a single word.            
Not even a single sound…                            
I shrug simply.                  
Imagining how even
a single utterance        
could ruin                            
this picturesque scene…        
what else can I do but look at her?
Waiting—
Just like the last time—                  
“So—”          
The man in front of her          
can barely even finish        
a word before she shakes her head
wiping the hair off her lips                          
enough to see that she’s smirking.
And for me to tell that she’s plainly hurt.    
Minutes—          
Hundred headlights passing—              
And a thousand more      
spectators passing by…        
She finally raises her chin                
showing her face        
—still so radiant amid the twilight skies—            
and flourishes                                                       ­   
so flawlessly                                              
this inviolable smile.                                      
No cracks.                              
No wobbles.                                
Not even shaken anymore...                
Exactly the same smile                  
I fell for before.      
She knows                  
just as much as I do          
that no words        
can cut it.                  
She knows only one thing can—
One step closer…                                            
He is exasperated                  
or something…      
I just can’t tell.            
But he must be.                  
All he does is stare    
at disbelief          
almost taking a step back.
And all she does is lean forward.            
One arm thrusting,                        
wrapping around his head                  
and the other      
just so confidently
bashfully                      
she hides      
inside the pocket                
of her denim pants.                    
He’s in shock      
I can tell.                  
And even though              
I know      
what that kiss really means          
I can’t simply help                  
but think of how lucky he is.                      
And how much  
I miss                  
to kiss                  
that same kiss…
But all I could really          
wrap my head about                    
is how sorry              
I feel for him.                          
If only I could pull the plug          
and scream ‘cut!’
    
“I don’t believe in smiles and kisses.”
She once looked at me            
so solemnly and said.                      
It was our first fight then.          
First almost apology.                            
First kiss.                    
First hotel room.            
First bed…                              
First time waking up together.                  
And I was too rattled                  
to even think of why.
                          
Now I get it so clearly.          
And far too late.                    
She was the first one to pull away.                
Her smile so still untarnished.                                
Unmoved.            ­        
And his face so torn:                    
half of confusion                
and the other half like heaven                      
yet only if heaven                  
was about to tear apart…                  
A face I’ve too long
been familiar with.
No goodbye.                
No hugs.          
No handshakes.                
No warnings—
    
All she does is walk away.              
So quickly        
so suddenly            
like she did with me        
all those years ago.                          
Only with a much      
much brighter smile        
this time.                
A much more aggressive kiss        
than I remember.    
Yet nothing else changed…    
Even how she shivers                
so subtly                                              
part stopping herself                                
from hugging the man            
in front of her            
and part from                
the showering cold.            
  
And I know                              
I’m far too late              
and gone                              
to do something about it
but I can’t help myself.                  
Reminding myself of how                              
I waited foolishly                
at that same park                      
knowing and not accepting                
somewhere      
at the back of my head              
that she really meant                                    
that kiss                                                        
to be a                                                                ­    
kiss goodnight...                                                     ­   
How I stared terribly                          
at the passing cars      
thinking to myself                
which one would be                          
the one to                  
hit the hit                      
that lulls me                    
to where I could                          
dream of heaven      
forever—                            
All I could think about          
is how easy it is                            
to take that step forward.
And how hard it is to stop her            
—without thinking—                    
I was racing            
faster than                    
her worn out smile              
falling apart          
catching up so fleetingly...              

And all I did was run
straight past her...

Or more accurately:
*She passed right through me
meh read this however you like :3
btw writing this kinda makes me rethink about how thin the line between prose and poetry..
 Jul 2018 Anne Scintilla
Yan F
masaya na akong
pinangingiti
ang labi
na ibang tao
ang humahalik.
in english, I'm content with putting a smile on the lips that aren't mine to kiss.
263
Play a little tune,
With originality,
And make my heart swoon.
 Jun 2018 Anne Scintilla
ali
my mom turned out the light
and took away my book.
"no more stories, it's time to focus on your own,"
she scolded,
shaking her head with disappointment.
the door slammed shut quietly
as i sat trying to adjust to the suffocating darkness
when the window creaked open
and in you came with a candle of your own,
along with a blank book
with only one sentence-

"let's write our own- no limits."
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