As stale as day-old bread

Much gray as year-long dread

Lie down your own messy bed

In which you are as good as dead.

Long story short,
I walked alone within the walls of fort.
He’s not mine, so I'm not his valentine.
My heart may be his, but his lips I won't kiss.
I might be in love, but I'll still hit the club.
Long story yet also short,
as I’ve already cut the cord.
Roses are red, violets are blue,
no need to guess and find any clue.
I cried alone within our favorite church.
He’s not my valentine, he ran out of time.
My letters have him, my lights are now dim.
I have another’s flowers, I'll remain a lover.
Long story short, unlike those letters,
without each other we'll be much better.
Roses are red, violets are blue,
image of my smeared lipstick, it’s not by you.

Minsan, may kaibigang nagsabi sa akin,
“Mas mabuti talaga ‘pag
nilalabanan ang sakit.”
Taon ang lumipas, sinabi rin ng kaibigan,
“Minsan mas mabuti na lang
pag nilalabanan ang pagmamahal.”
Hindi niya sinambit, hindi ng kanyang labi,
ngunit alam ko rin naman ang kanyang ibig.
Hindi ito pangangamba o pag-aatubili,
sadyang kanyang dibdib ay hindi ko kabig.
Bakit tila ganito ngayon ang radyo?
Walang awit, tanging tinig.
Bakit iba yata ang ihip at pihit nito?
Walang tugtog, ngunit ang sambit;
“Mabuti na rin pala
na hindi ko nakita ang iyong mukha.”
Walang kulog, ngunit may awit;
“Maigi na rin yata na ako na
ang bagong paksa ng luksa.”

Behold this box in which I carry my secrets.
If I ask you, would you be able to keep it?
Behold this case in which I kept my youth.
If I answer this poem, will it make the due?
Here lies all that there is or ever was...
If I would try to, could I make it last?
Here comes all that will come or will be...
If I fight for you, would I end up bruised?
Behold this ring which I’ll kiss with fists.
If I duel with time, could you give me a kiss?
Behold this arena in which I will be boxed.
I will brawl with pain, leave me knocked.

I want the cliche romance.
I want all the cheesy stuff.
Yeah I want some flowers.
And yeah I want to call you.
I want to write you more letters.
I want to play tag and be the 'it'.
I want my poems to wage and weather.
I want heart-shaped ****.
I want to ask you to come over.
I want to talk more and more.
I want to catch up.
I want to know you again.
I want to cook us dinner.
I want us to leave laughters at every corner.
I want us to move furniture.
I want us to levitate to somewhere higher.
Ah, I want us.
I want to break the fixtures.
I want you to show me how good it can get.
I want you to teach me all the ways to get a woman wet.
I want your heavy breaths.
I want you covered in sweat.
I want to get back at the noises of my neighbors.
I want them to hear my moans and screams of pleasure.
I want them more annoyed than ever, even angered.
I want them to report me to the property manager.
Oh God, how I want you.
I want us to touch the sky, taste heaven together.
I want to kneel, in prayer.
I want to pray better.
I want to play my cards like I have never.
I want to play house forever.

¿Fue culpa tuya o fue culpa mía?
¿Soy el que lo encendió?
Creo que simplemente me rendiré
y me incriminaré.
¿Pero fuiste tú quien lo empezó?
Creo que simplemente cantaré
y me encerraré.
Ahora no importa quién empezó qué,
lo que importa es quién lo termina y cuándo.
Pero ahora no importa cómo termine,
ya estoy quemado por el puta cortocircuito.
Pero, sabes que? Seguro que lo sabes.
Que por ti volvería a electrocutarme.
Por ti lo haría todo una y otra vez.
Así que acércate más, más cerca que nunca,
ven, y tócame, devórame.
¿Será mi culpa o tu culpa?

I already know the answer.
So what if I have been thinking about you still? What about it?
What if I have been imagining how good your kiss must feel? What of it?
So what if I have been dreaming about what could have been? What is it to you?
What if you were here right now because you want to tell me something? What is it?
I know the answer.
I know it as I would know my own letters.

So what if I have been thinking about your touch, but this time, in places nobody knows where? Oh well, now neither do you.
So what?
So what if I have been imagining doing things with you, sort of things that you can now only imagine and think about too?
Now what?
So what if I am still here, writing poems?
So what if I am hiding, like Texas hold ‘em?
But I understand.
Like I do the lines on the back of my hand.

And so what if I have been daydreaming of sitting on a field on a sunny day with you?
So what if I’m imagining you taking my sundress off, like tearing petals down?
What about it?
So what if I imagine us having cute picnics and then making a mess of the picnic mat every single time, like it’s a routine?
So what?
So what if I think about these kind of things when you clearly don’t want them or don’t want anything at all, what pain it brings!
So what is it to you?!
Well, no problem, I heard.
Loud and clear as the chirps of the birds.