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What words would Winter whisper,
When the last warm rays
Of sweet Summer sister
Have shone beyond forgone horizons?
His hands clasp blistered,
Embraced by the rhythm of fate.
Love conquers all but his envy is great,

And it grows,

And it blows,

And the Winds are rising,

Giving voice to once silent trees.
Through the maelstrom
Winter watches.
A feeble man on bended knees
Cradles the embers of fire.
Winter froze with desire
While stunned by despair,
That even man could find warmth
While his sky lay frozen and bare.
I
love you
and all the colors
of your skies, watch me
dance in your thunderstorms
drink in your sun, catch every bit
of rain, be it acid or mountain-tears,
every snowflake and speck of hail, mine
will be the sunflowers and buds of baby's
breath, the fresh soil and dew-dipped leaves
mine will be the aftermath - may it always
be something worth staying five minutes
longer for; but please remember that
even wildflowers need some
sort of care, so I hope
you'll love me
too in all the
colors of
my
skies.
Lazy Monday.
Raining Morning.
Inky pens.
Empty papers.

This 4-cornered room became a
Vast new world
When I met
You.

Your "What's your name?"
was more than a question, it was
An invitation to
A breath of fresh air,
A gulp of warm sunshine,
A waltz on green grass.

From small talk on the
Wet weather,
The films at the theater,
And our ******* professor,
Our lips spilled over.
Awkward smiles became
Shy giggles then
Uncontrollable laughter.

We pulled each other to conversations on
Artists Picasso, Van Gogh
Historians Constantino, Ocampo.
I told you about
Distant galaxies and the theory of gravity
While you said things on
Progressive policies and your farming family.
You said pick-up lines, I gave knock-knock jokes.
We tried to mash-up Let It Be and Let It Go.
Your mind was a treasure chest full of stories
Forever you
And your words are engraved in my memory.

All this ended though
When the clocks striked 3.
The session was over;
There's no reason to be here anymore
And so I guess it's best for us to just
Leave.

"It was nice meeting you."
But it's horrible that
We will never meet again.
What was us will just get lost in the plane infinity
For this moment that we shared
Is just a mere
Point of tangency.
The point of tangency is where a geometric line touches a surface once but never intersects it. This fictional poem is inspired by economic isoquant curves and budget lines, as well as all my awesome professors and classmates that I had this semester whom I will probably never meet ever again :(
 Dec 2014 Camille Paguirigan
lulu
she's here,
but i don't see her.

she's here,
with her dull eyes
but i don't see her.

she's here,
with her fragile body,
but i don't see her.

she's here,
with stained cheeks,
but i don't see her.

she's here,
not not uttering a single word,
and i still don't see her.

i don't see the girl i used to know.
i don't see her.

her with bright, glittering eyes.
her with an enthusiastic soul within a body.
her with that curved up line in her face.
her with too many words to say.

*i just don't see her.
do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.
A puzzle piece doesn't fit
into a place that isn't theirs

So stop
Trying to fit
Into places you don't
Belong
Stop
Trying to squeeze
Into spaces you don't
Fit in
Stop
Altering yourself;
Cutting,
Trimming,
The pieces that make
You
Just to fit into skin
That isn't
Yours

Because no matter how hard you try

A puzzle piece never fits
into a place that isn't theirs

Believe me,
I've tried
be yourself <33
my lungs are like flowers,
they blossom
when i breathe

but like when winter comes,
they wither
when you leave
idk i've had this written down for ages
if this poem was glue
it would do anything but stick
if this poem was tape
it would do anything but put together
what was ripped apart
if this poem was a band-aid
it would do anything but patch up
the wounds you've left behind
But if this poem were blocks
it would do nothing but build;
build walls around this fragile heart to
keep you out

If this poem was you and me
it would fall apart immediately
written on December 1, 2014
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