c - Hello Poetry

c Aug 3

he waves at me in a sea of people,
I didn't know how he found me
there were tides of faces washing the shore
but he surfs through,
holds my hand exactly when I'm like the water,
raging and blue

there was once a light in these eyes,
moony, brimming and wide-eyed
once deemed bright, now even the stars don't shine
he lights a fire with bare hands,
slowly, yet so surely
flames to keep me warm, light to give me life

he reads me like a book,
marks every word I say
does not turn the pages without
learning the meaning of every sentence,
every ******* phrase
acts out his script like it's a play

a seat saved for every dinner
coins in the fountain, wishing
earnest yearning like a beginner

an origami of flower
says "I've been thinking of you"
despite the busy hours

breakfast's ready
bare-faced, bed's messy
there's a look of love on his face
by then, I know I'm ready

... if I feel loved that way

c Nov 2020

anything but a poem

When I’m hurt, I forget about all the beautiful things

I forget the taste of my favorite sweet coffee in the morning

I forget the view of sunlight creeping in my room

I forget the sound of wind chimes and calm sea waves

I forget the feeling of soft breeze lightly touching my skin

I forget the scent of the flowers my mother have grown in her garden

I forget the little chitchats and the nights out with my best friends

I forget the view of the soft blur of city lights right in front my eyes when I’m on the top of the world

When I’m hurt, I tend to forget my virtues, my capacity to do good, and my value.

If I have to kneel down and ask for one thing: it is not to remove any pain from the things that can’t be stopped from happening, but to always be reminded of the beautiful things I have around me so that no matter how shattered I am, I will be healed

— so I can keep going,
so I can go on breathing

c Nov 2020

long gone

The sound of your smile reverberates in the four walls of this world — into the curvature of your lips, to the buzzing crowd, to the open skies bolting downward and and into my heart.

I try to close my eyes when the sight of you gets clearer in broad daylight, holding onto tiny prayers that as you pass, I may not be blinded by the radiance of your beauty, but be graced by the scent of the breeze that escorts you — ever so subtle that only filled gaps would be able to grasp what it felt like to really get close with you.

I try to stick out this frozen heart by the warmth of your flame, but not too close for I am afraid the fire would enclasp, swallow it whole and spit it out into ashes, but I cannot and would not stop wondering how would it feel like to set myself on fire — breathe it out, plunge into the fire hoops or dance with the fire god that is within you.

I try not to, but everytime I start to write these blues, all that comes out are the possibilities that might not even happen, a reality that is a mirage in totality.

I will try to flap these wings of mine as fast as I could, but how could I? The sound of your smile reverberating within the four walls of this world is capable of paralyzing a roaring lion — let alone a swift bird.

c Jul 2020

alpas

Even then,
even when I feel defeated,
I lie down on this banig,
knit my gaze
with the softest emblem
of fleeting grace and parading beauty above me that might never fade—
even when all glory does,
and feel honeydew sap
trickle on my skin.

I rest my case here
and let the mouth of the mound
devour what's left of me to breathe,
and I will thank Him
for the buzzing of the bees
that stung my ear,
the stubborn weeds
that clung to the depths of civilization, budding wildflowers that burgeoned
from the carnage of yesteryears,
and the soft whispers of the wind cradling me to sleep.

All I have is this world that speaks of love in sundry dialects: of hoots and hisses,
of succulents,
of corn fields,
of tides
and of hues imbued in the vast horizons, blanketing the murky tales of the world.

All I have here is never-ending, even when in a flux, and I will thank Him for it.

c Apr 2020

alas

you can tell me things,
any liter you have picked
around every corner
and together we’d unscramble—
the knotted pieces,
even the ones you’d tossed
at the back of your mind

but only if you want to,
only if you feel like
you ought to

you can tell me the uncanny,
the ugly, the messy
all the wonders flying
like bats on the darkness
inside your head

and we’d wander,
but i’ll lace my fingertips on yours
so you won’t ever have
to feel astray

you can tell me
when to come and save you,
in the *******,
unholy hours,
when the cruel waves
insinuate the only space
that makes you sane

we’d lay back on the wet shores
and curse the moon
for the tides
and the bad luck

i’d tell you
my night time stories,
the uncanny,
the ugly
and the messy

you wouldn’t like them,
but there will be
a glimpsing moment
in my eyes
and a flutter
in my chest

there are more things
i’d love to say,
but i know you’d rather
fall asleep

maybe in the daytime
i could tell you
when your eyes are dry
and you are
no longer blue

you can listen to me,
and the words i choked on,
but only if you want to

only if you want to

c Mar 2020

love, it is

I'd be glad to hold your hand,
to cross the streets,
to have a bottle or two,
to watch the sun rise
with you

I will listen to your favorite songs,
the ones that help you sleep,
the one everybody thinks is weird,
that one you want to dance with

I'll be there when you need
someone to wipe your tears —
through ups and downs
throughout countless of years

I'd be glad to hear your secrets,
to see your face,
to hear your raspy voice,
to hold you
first thing in the morning

I'd share you all the late nights,
all the writing prompts I have in my head,
the last slice of a pizza,
that side of the bed

I will be with you
wherever you choose to stay
for the time being
or for the rest of your life

I'll save you a poem,
one that's waiting to be heard

and then I’ll save you a seat —
on dinner nights,
on the ride back home,
in the cafes

I would love to slow dance
with you all over again,
as I listen to you
hum the lyrics of my favorite classic

I’ll have you next to me,
skin on yours under the sheet,
in a dim-lit room
on a Sunday night,
as if there is no tomorrow

as if there’s only you and me
in this little sanctuary,
away from the tiresome reality

I’d die to make you
feel warm
and loved
and adored

I’ll be right next to you,
when you win your games,
even when you lose,

right next
when I don’t want to miss any
of your laughters and smiles

right next
when you’re falling asleep
or when you’re dreaming
about Slender man
and the things that haunt you

right next
when you feel like you’re
on the top of the world
and you feel like screaming

and rest assured,
I will be right there with you as well
at 3am, when you’re out of breath
and you feel alone

I can’t promise you
a perfect world,
but you can hold my hand
amidst all the chaos,
all the shadows,
all the wounded scars on your wrists,
amidst the troubled minds
and the uncertainties

I will be glad to hold you,
to be there,
to have you,

I have faith in knowing that
through it all,
I will love you still

c Oct 2019

5am

you watch life passing through like fast-forward scenes in the movies and you hardly see the details — how your friend got teary-eyed watching the end of a film, how the breeze touched your skin, how the beer tasted, how fast the night was. you watch life pass through, and you don’t see how beautiful the moments are until you wake up alone and replay everything from last night.

you wake up with a hole in the gut, but you see these stills of life you seemed to miss and wish you could go back to see it in life once again, but moments are fleeting so when you have the chance to experience the peaks of being alive, take it. seize it.