Mangawit man ang aking leeg sa pagtingala,
palibutan man ako ng mga lamok at gamu-gamo,
manigas man ako sa lamig ng simoy ng hangin,
maabutan man ako ng unang bahid ng liwanag ng bungang liwayway,
ako ay mananatili;
dahil minsan na nga lang
kayo lumabas sa inyong pinagtataguan,
minsan ko nalang kayo masulyapan
at sa tinagal-tagal kong nagmamasid
ay ngayon ko nalang kayo muling natagpuan.
Kaya aking susulitin ang gabi.
Aking gagawin ang lahat ng pagtitiis
para lamang kayo'y masilaya't mapagmasdan,
mga bituin.

your heart will not fail in space
it will be an object of its own mass
and gravity
no longer will there be a throttle in its vessels
and asynchronicity in its rhythms—
the beats, oh, the beats
your heart, when it is in space, will only wait
for an entity
to be jettisoned from a shuttle

my oxygen is running low
i love you to your heart and never back

You've got a part
Of someone else.
I was too dumb
To put you first
Before myself.

on this day, i write
tunes and voices coming in one ear
playing your message as i pause the music
playing the music as i leave your message

thought to resurge but a tough palm stood
to release the string from my opposite drum
attached is my depth from a pit, yelling
with you, we lost the bucket to save it

for this day i shut
so my fading code unbars
scripts i thought i'd never again crack
since my inclination to yours for me to be a part

from now and when i hear you
again will play the music that turns me than up
uncertain, but to neighbor by far is to keep you
from living in my lines

I remembered when we rode a plane
To a place I haven’t been before
And you had, so I thought that
You would give me the window seat,
But you didn’t.

I remembered when we had coffee.
Two sachets of cream were served to you.
I only got one, so I thought that
You would give me the other,
But you didn’t.

I remembered when we waited for 11:11.
We were quite weary, yet I held on
‘Til 11:11. You dozed off. I almost.
I thought you’d wait with me,
But you didn’t.

I kept asking myself
On why you weren’t the right one
And I remembered those little things.
What I thought you would,
But you didn’t.

How all of a sudden, I realized
That somehow, the little things
Are the ones that count.
And beyond those are *******.
I should’ve known.

I didn’t have any idea
That you weren’t the right one
When we were together;
When we fell for each other
And I should’ve.

I thought that maybe
I was meant for him,
But he's not for me.

'Til then I knew,
There's no such thing
As meant to be.

I never told my mother I love her until my senior year,
and I have been scheduled lately to care for a dying woman,
struggling, gasping for dry misty air. Few weeks ago, I leaned
over a newborn to monitor his extrauterine adaptation, his cry for life.
I first learned from my psychiatric nursing class that recognition
is a form of therapy, an ephemeral touch to the soul, the kind that
gifts me little snacks as reward for small talks with a patient. I guess it is the
words that turn into charms. I once asked an irritable elderly woman
if she had eaten and she also asked me in return. I was liquified. My house
has never had picture frames hung up on the walls. Crumbles of loss,
torn wedding album, heartbreak in my larva years.
I feel so privileged to be saved by the sick or I may say, to view
nursing as a means of holding on to life.
Some time in my senior year, I encountered a woman, same age
as my mother, with brain aneurysm and every movement of
her head, limb, and torso hurt her. I assisted her to the bathroom,
then I introduced myself again.

As though I can only show up when
the sun peeks and a ray touches me,
and I bleed
ink from my desolate spaces
It absorbs the gush to feel it is worthy
of my parts that I tend to
forget, to give away
I keep on refilling myself
just to be empty in pleasure with you later
It drains me and then brims me
and then drains me once again
Oh I like it so I let it,
and I burn
from those diurnal peeks and touches
You then hide and I return to feigned flashes
Tell me how I can function
when you know that all I do is
love the sunset
and bleed for you

I don't know
if anyone's life
out there
is **** too,
but if ever
there is someone
who has
a ****** life
as i do,
let's make ourselves
each others'
companion.

Recalling that time when you left
was a Sunday afternoon in a city
driving along a known boulevard
there was I
from the inside of the car window
looking through
The atmosphere from within was a crowd
to hear my family's arguments
slowly fade like it was some background music
it all shifted
when I thought of you

Five o'clock and everything outside was orange
cars would pass from the opposite road
and a light would strike
imagining it was your eyes sharply looking at mine
Resisting it
never have I thought nor planned
a streak of ignition
in the absence of you

Average traffic ahead
watching over the orange sunset
staring at it with awe as I felt this sudden stimulus
straight to my nerves from my phone
05: 06 - a vibration, a message from you
Started with a hello
typical it wasn't
for it moistened my eyes as I stared at the sun
and pulled me
into a void of nothingness
as I finished reading
it was goodbye

Green light
cars started moving to an extent
seeing my reflection through the window
two tears dropped as the sun was going down
From my right eye was the first
causing it to drop earlier than the other
it had the heavier pain and depth
spreading down my face
From my left eye
the next teardrop came
Those teardrops were us
but who were we
from each one of them

From dark blue to light yellow
the gradient of the sky was visible
a while to finally have thought of you
as the first teardrop who left
and the next was I
as the one who was left behind
Frigid air from the inside
dried my tears hurriedly
to look at every airplane
and make me wonder
if you were there

Recalling that time when you left
was a Sunday afternoon in a city
driving along a known boulevard
there was I
waiting for you to say
goodbye

i don't see myself
loving
any other man but you
so i let the stars align
to take me as soon
as i am forty for
you
desire not of me

41 and alone
51 and alone
61 and alone
i do not want to grow old alone

i foresee myself growing old alone
so i ask the stars to take me when i am forty
or younger

my dust to be encrypted
when you close your eyes at night
tells you that

i could've grown old with you

you are too late
you are too late

It was nice talking about my future plans with my parents. I really didn't expect that they'd give me the most enlightening advice and realizations. They made me understood the consequences I might come up to that I have never even thought of when I transfer to another school as a senior high school student because all I thought of was that I'll be left behind if I stay and my friends would still be together in another school. All I thought of was them. All I thought of was you. But then, my dad told me that we're all going to part. It might be sad and painful to think, but we really have to end up going to separate ways. We'll be on our own. It's an individual battle. The only positivity that came up was that we'll be meeting each other again in the reunion. High school is really the most joyous stage of the education process and parting from the people I got attached to is a normal thing to be miserable about. I'm slowly starting to accept the fact. And from the past weeks that I’ve been hit by depression, all I focused and I’m focusing to do up until now  is to treasure the moments that I am with them because there’s really nothing I can do. I am not in control of their life and the reason why they decided on their choice was that it was also for the good of them. People really do come and go. That’s life and the least and best thing I can do is to be happy for them.

Before that moment when I finally understood my parents’ point, there were times when I cried myself to sleep while I talked to God in my mind for 4 consecutive nights and resentfully asked Him, “Why?” I cried at school. I cried in the jeepney. I cried and no one really knew why. And it’s really a traumatic thought because the only reason I cried was because of them. That it hurts like hell to let them go because actually, I’ve really planned to leave. I started to plan it when I was in my ninth grade. It’s just that I got so attached to people and that in the early months of my last year of junior high school, I decided to stay because I knew and they’ve said so, that they’d stay. Until it was just 3 months before the school year will end that they've changed their decisions and application forms were the only thing they’ve held ever since. They were happy, but in the contrary, I wasn't. I tried even if it took to pretend and fake my true possessive feeling about them leaving. And so, I got out of place because all they talked about was to leave and here I am now in the middle of distress. I chose to stay because I wanted to be with them and suddenly it’s like the world just turned upside down and I’m the one who was left in the air. I cried.

But most of it all, it’s just a heartbreaking news to know that you are part of them and it hurts that I cried a river and most of it was for your ocean. Lately have I perceived that there are a lot of rivers that leads to an ocean, not only one. Most of the reasons of the tears I’ve shed was because of you. You were the cause of my grief. You never knew. And perhaps, you’ll never know. I didn’t want to let you know because maybe, not that I'm being so presumptuous, but just maybe if you did, you’ll have to change your plans and that my emotions will drive you to the wrong path. I didn’t want that. That would mess you up. You’ll have regrets and you’ll be really upset when I have always wanted you to be happy. And so, I’ve set you free. I supported you and let you push through to what you really wanted even if seeing you leave would give me such a heartache. Until this time came when I cried, then paused to wonder and ask myself that if you were in my situation and I was in yours, would you cry for me to stay? Probably, you wouldn't. I know, but it’s like climbing a tree without any branch to accept it. The truth hit me so badly. But even though we are to part, I know that everything that happens now is in your hands and it's all for the sake of your future. I am sincerely happy for you. I have loved you and I always will.

And to everyone else, I have loved you too.
It’s really true that life doesn’t always go the way we planned it.

-an advance farewell to the people whom I got attached to and now I am to part with
and most specially to the greatest extent who once told me that I was
e x t r a o r d i n a r y,

h i m.

I remember the days
when everything is just so innocent.

When I need to get some breast milk,
I cry.

When someone makes funny faces
and stick their tongue out their mouth,
I laugh.

Everything is as simple.
Not a word meant another.
It is as it is.

It just so happened that as I grow up,
everything turned out to be so complicated.

When I was a kid,
***** meant cat.
And now I see cat faces printed in front of *******, in women’s lingerie, in bikinis.
I see it being sold online as I scroll in my twitter account.
If ***** was a tourist attraction, it would probably be much visited than Disneyland.

When I was a kid,
***** was a female dog.
And now, everyone turns out to be one.
Go on! Laugh out loudly!
Instead of saying “Hi!”, we say, “Hey *****! Wassup?”
Not that it is meant literally,
it just seems to be a part of our language now;
an expression.

When I was a kid,
**** was a name and BJ was a nickname.
Oh come on, you already know what that means.
But for those who don’t, just look at your seatmate’s…
Uhhh… nevermind.

When I was a kid,
***** was a nut.
And now, it is censored when it is said in movies.
Toot you!
And it was just “***** you!”

When I was a kid,

Bang was a sound,

Rubber was like plastic,

*** was an animal,

*** was a snack.

All of which sounds so pervy now.

I work with words all day.
Is it the words or us who change?

Words seem so nasty now.
Inappropriate to say.

And I wouldn’t be shocked to know that during a Mathematics class in a 4-walled room at the 2nd floor of that building next to us,
The teacher asked, “What are sets?”
S-E-T-S
A student, a 7th grader undoubtedly raised his hand, stood up and answered, “******* po.”

And I knew that even the wrong meaning fits the wrong word.
That even the youngsters are already exposed to those words.

When I was in 7th grade,
sets meant a collection of elements.

When I was a kid,
*** meant gender.