I can carve your name among the stars
with my paper, pen, acrylics, and art.
I can turn you into a museum
through my own pain, sadness, and gloom.
I can display you like a gallery,
with my lips and hips seared onto your skin.
I can raise your name into immortality
through my songs and poetry.
I can give you eternity
with my madness and mercy.
I can make you a living God
through my beauty and love.

Find me if you dare, then leave me.
Leave me how you found me, I dare you.
Mind you, I do not care, believe me.
Care for me but I won’t mind, mind you.
Take this skin, score, and sear it,
it’s yours for burning and breaking.
Take these eyes, watch how they ablaze,
stare at them as you would a sandstorm.
Take this body, bring and burn it,
or take it as a trophy to new civilizations.
Take these hands, lock and never lose them,
clasp them shut so they may never be lethal.
Take this heart, see how it resurrects,
look how you made it golden and eternal.

I handpicked you,
with these hands that clawed their way out
of death and then back to your inner city.
More carefully than finding shells
on a beach, on an island down south.

I handpicked you,
with these hands that engraved stones
and carved runes from the walls.
More desperately than ancient men learning
how to write and draw for the first time.

I handpicked you,
with these hands that shook with the devil
and in the same manner, greeted saints with.
More intentionally than touching artifacts
in a museum, within a country of colonizers.

I handpicked you,
with these hands that wrote law, poems,
and stabbed enemies lurking in the tombs.
More defiantly than a monster experiencing
how it feels to be betrayed for the last time.

𝘚𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘢-𝘪,
My chosen,
you have no choice but to give in.
My love,
it is now my heart that you live in.
My destiny,
it is my body that you will be buried in.

How softly you unearthed this heart,
dusted off the sand from my hands...
How tenderly you knew exactly what to do,
take me away off the west to my rescue...
How you paced my tomb that burns,
dug deep enough skin from the earth...
How painstakingly you wrapped me warm,
blanketed me from pain of eternity's harm...
It seems like you have seen me beyond
these shards and sands of time.
It feels as though I am a secret you kept
since the antiquities of light.
It seems like you have touched me before
the very invention of the word skin.
It feels as though you have built me long ago
brick by brick, in your buried cities within.

You expect me to curtsy,
but what I do is bend and break my bones.
You expect me to be soft-spoken,
I am raised on curses in three languages,
I have five deities and I write poetry!
You expect me to act refined,
but I am a woman dulled by violence.
And when you expect me to be dull,
I'll be as sharp as a stick up your *******.
You expect me to act sweet,
I am raised in Manila, you little *****!
You expect me to be quiet or sophisticated,
but I am a ******* Filipina, you ditz!
So no,
I cannotㅡand will not curtsy.
Nor will I bend and break either.
I will not be soft-spoken.
The last thing I will be is refined.
I will be sharp and smart as a whip.
To hell with acting sweet!
Asking a girl silenced by time to be quiet?
And a true Manileña to be sophisticated?
𝘏𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘱 𝘬𝘢! I’ll make you wish you’re dead.

With your hair that glows golden
under the glimmering sun...
With your eyes that glistens
under summer heat's touch...
you are as soft as a cloud
on a weary traveler's mouth!

And with your skin that never burns,
but touch that makes the sun envy with red...
And with your laughter that glimmers,
the sands shall never again darken...
you are as sweet as day,
the morning sun at bay
after a night of gray!

𝘗𝘦𝘳 𝘡𝘰ë;
𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘴ó𝘯 𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳
𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘭 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘢,
𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘶 𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘴ó𝘯 𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳
𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘢.
𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘪𝘹 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘪 𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭
𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘴,
𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘪 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘴ó𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴... ♡

With your eyes that lights up as you smile,
you could stretch a beach by another mile...
With your hair that falls like the forest light,
you make a nocturnal excited for sunrise...
You are a prize without a price!

Your dreams are a promised destination,
with your warmth that heals
under the island sky...
Your skin is a timeless celebration,
with your cheeks that redden
under the summer's touch...
You are a revelation and a surprise!

𝘗𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘢;
𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭 é𝘴 𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘦𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯,
𝘪 𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘳𝘪𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘴ó𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.
𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘴 𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘴ó𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘪𝘹 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘶𝘴,
𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘳-𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭 𝘮ó𝘯 𝘥𝘦 𝘋é𝘶.
𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘴
𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴
𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴,
𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴ó𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘴!
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