Mahal, kailan mo ba napansing hindi mo na ako mahal?
Kailan ba nagsimulang mamuo ang lamat—
ang tipak sa dingding ng panahon
Na nabuo mula sa iisang hibla
Na lumawak at nagmistula nang mga sanga ng puno ngayon

Mahal, kailan mo ba napansing hindi mo na ako mahal?
Saan ba nagsimula ang sigalot na kahit anong gawin ay hindi ko mahanapan ng kakalásan—
Hindi matakasan ilang bukas man ang daanan
Gaya ng Ang Probinsyano sa telebisyon na inabot na ng ilang taong

Naging saksi na rin sa pag-inog ng mundo
kong patuloy man sa pag-ikot ay parang hindi naman makausad sa pag-atras
Pabalik sa nakaraan nating ayaw magparaya
Ayaw magpalimot,
Ayaw magpaawat,
Ayaw magpatawad

Nasira ko yata ang pinaplano kong 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 sa umpisa, mahal
Gaya ng wala naman talaga tayo sa 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘰
Ng kahit kanino sa ating dalawa
Ngunit, heto na, nangyari na
At nagkasakitan na
Nang higit pa sa kayang pasanin ng puso
At ngayon, gusto ko lang malaman:

Mahal, kailan mo ba napansing hindi mo na ako mahal?
Ano ba ang simula ng gulo nating parang islang lulubog-lilitaw—
Paparoon at paparito, hindi makadiretso
Gaya ng mga alon na nakikipaglaro sa dalampasigan
Masaya naman tayo... 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯
Masaya naman tayo minsan
Masaya naman tayo minsan
At minsan, nakakalimutan ko ring hindi mo na nga pala ako mahal

Mahal, kailan mo ba napansing hindi mo na ako mahal?
Masyado nang matagal
Ang paghihintay ko ng sagot sa mga tanong na paulit-ulit ko mang bigkasin
Ay hindi naririnig ng utak **** ayaw umintindi
At ng puso **** ayaw magsisi
At nakakatawang isipin na ako ang naghahabol ng kaliwanagan,
Nag-aasam ng kaayusan
Kung sa ating dalawa, ikaw naman talaga ang nagkulang

Paano ko ba tatapusin ito, mahal? Sana tayo na lang ang tinapos mo matagal na.

but how could love be lost
when it's the only good thing
i've ever known?
-

hollow halls and empty rooms
echo memories of years past
and lost like the love
i once knew
like the love
i once believed
to be true,

back when the sunrise still
bounced off the walls
with the promise of joy
and childlike wonder
and laughter

when i still held on
to the belief that love
could last as long as
time would last,
as long as i believed

that love is enduring,
forever,
no matter what, but
the question,
if youth is temporary,
then can love also be?

if ceilings can lose their
ingtegrity due to water
dripping through the roof
and floorboards can crack
from pressure,

the same way that time
batters down houses and
innocence, nothing
stays as it is,
love too is defenseless
against the wear and the tear

love, too, withers away,
and it has
and it's lost
even if it's the only
good thing i've
ever known

stagnation tastes bitter
with a spoonful of disappointment
and a cup of regret
but what right do i have to
complain about something
i consciously bring
upon myself
to taste unapologetically
every night
i am reminded
of how aimless
and pointless
i have been
coursing through the
days wasting time
fooling myself into
believing
i had moved an
inch forward towards
something worthy
to wake up to
but even waking up
takes so long
when every night is
like a clingy lover
that i tolerate into
not letting me go
until too much darkness
is enough
and it's time to part
and then it's time
to wake up
again and again
to a new set of stagnating days
aimless
pointless

but what is
the point of
hoping
still
if
our countless
chances
to start over
inescapably
end with
us
crashing
all
the
****
time

i always thought
i'd never run out
of chances
to start again,
to make things right
with you,
using you—
the epitome of
leniency
always so forgiving
even on days when
i don't even deserve it
i can't quite describe
your omnipresence,
your existence
that transcends us all
mortal beings,
your faultless consistency
is also our downfall,
you bear witness to
our daily sufferings
and ephemeral joys,
our short-lived youth and
eventual demise,
the only constant
then, now, and forever

I had hopes of getting better. Things we're going right, you know? Sure, there were stumbles, but it was okay. Days don't always end with contented sunsets. Soldier on, I say. Bad things don't last forever. We got past this before, and we will do so again. I still forget to eat. Sometimes. But, hey I've been sleeping longer. That's an improvement, right? I plan on maintaining my new sleeping pattern. I'm still apprehensive of the future. But aren't we all? At least now I'm more convinced that I can do this. But, what if I lose this renewed resolve along the way? It always happens. Anyway, I'll cross the bridge when I get there. I'm trying to change things around, at least that's what I tell myself, yet I've been burning more cigarettes lately. That new sleeping pattern I told you about? I broke it today.

the pictures begin to switch one by one
as if to tell a story of vibrant hope
the clicks on the kaleidoscope slightly increase in tempo
the backgrounds merge
the hues start to fade

Who knew that along the way we'd stop seeing life in color?

-

winds moving like a woman scorned, hell-bent on exacting tribulation on anything that blocks her way
like no one would be left unscathed after
like her pitiful path would look like our old home now
like a run for your life else you get knocked down on your feet and get carried away kind
and yet, you stay rooted in anticipation
wondering how something so invisible could be
so harsh
     and unrelenting
         and merciless
maybe this stillness in the face of danger is your fight or flight response
only you got stuck in the point where you freeze on the spot
and there, in utter helplessness,
you hold your breath and
brace yourself for the impact

as the collision nears you remember that this has happened before, in other forms, in previous times, and you always come out breathing (barely, but alive still) and maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to survive yet again

the amnesia lane to my heart is littered with derailed trains and debris from car collisions/ the stop signs now read tried and tired/ i'm struggling to go on every time i am reminded that things have gone awry/ but i really tried, you know?/ because i had high hopes in the beginning that we could make this work/ i went to the cemetery to mourn for all the time i wasted/ and all the chances i forgone where i could've treated myself better/ these self-loathing sessions keep coming in waves like how downpours go on for days/ sometimes it holds me hostage indoors/ but some days i dance in the rain

hey. the morning skies looked like they held the secret ingredient for a perfect day. should have taken that as a bad sign. harmless mornings don't always translate into lenient nights. i think i'll never get over this hurdle that keeps appearing on my chest. i'm always anticipating that the ship we're on is bound to crash and sink even when the seas are calm. i'm tired of looking for handkerchiefs in the places we cried in, or in waiting for an embrace after falling off a cliff. i knew that it would hurt, but you were supposed to make the impact a little less painful. i think i'll always long for that reassurance that never came. you made me familiarize abandonment. who wouldn't? when you always sailed away every time i needed an anchor. this was supposed to be another apology letter, you know. even if you should be the one doing the apologizing. well, here goes my apology. but only because this turned out to be a confession. and... **** it, i admit, i, too, have failed to do right by you.

i lament the humidity
of the air and the harsh
midday sun
i can feel my sweat
sticking on my skin
even if i just finished
another bath
what do the remaining
hours of this day hold?
nothing seems to make
me anticipate new mornings
anymore
i fall asleep easier now
maybe because i'm
always tired
is this day 10 or 100
or 1000
of being confined
in an endless cycle of
troughs and crests
i can no longer remember
the last time i was able
to sustain a sense of
contentment
i think it was when we were
leaving the port of Cebu
i had my very first cigarette
we were saying goodbye to
the fading city lights
the cold water crashing on
the sides of the ship is
enticing me to
jump off

it's like we never left mt. calvary
2018 is 2015 again
only my escapist mechanisms
no longer work
i get lost in this endless cycle
of troughs and crests
this constant pursuit for a home
is like a sickness that never gets better
these pathogens that have found
refuge in my heart have grown
ultra-resistant to the medicine
they no longer want to leave
why do i still wake up?
i've been asking for deliverance
for years but
i guess heaven is not a
wish-granting factory
and God is not a genie
do you miss our catching-up
sessions?
the ones where you ask me
if i can still get up
in the morning and
i ask you if you still
cry yourself to sleep at night
oh, right, those never happened,
because you never had
the strength to care
and i never had
the guts to ask
for time
and maybe that's why
whenever i try to write
it always ends up as
an apology letter
(that you won't ever get to read)

but why are you
reading old conversations?
what do you expect
to unearth
from past joys
and tragedies?
do you wish to
resurrect forgotten feelings
to check if your
cardiac muscle
still remembers?
what is this obsession
to reminisce?
this constant pursuit
for validation?

when you searched
for keywords such
as "love you"
in your messages
and the results appeared,
did it appease the
emptiness in your heart
and the ache in your bones?

i don't even know
where to start
maybe we can
start from my heart
i've used that
line before
in another page
from another time
when i still dreamt
of going away
leaving seemed such
a good idea
if it is then why
do i regret waking
up in the morning
knowing that i'm
miles away from
the things that hurt?
running away felt
more like running
backwards—
running back to
what i'm running
away from
leaving seemed
such a good idea
until it wasn't
until i wanted to
go back home
again
so isn't it ironic?
to want to leave
but regret leaving?

You probably don't know this,
but my eyes feel funny at
every phone call
and, usually, the tears
fall every time
the call ends.

Both directions make me want to run to their opposite sides,
So where the hell am I supposed to go?

I can't sleep
because all I can think
of is you
and I know, if you ever
read this, you'll think
it's cheesy
but it's true
and I know I said
I'll stop, I'll move on,
I'll try to forget you
but here I am again
making up scenes
of you and me
and is it wrong?
Is it wrong to feel this way?
I can't sleep
there's a throbbing pain
inside my brain
and my heart and
somewhere in my body
And I can't sleep
because I keep thinking
of sad words from
sad endings of
people that aren't
meant to be
And maybe we're going
to end up
just
like
that
And it's funny because
I already know the ending
before the story
even started

You throw words
Like darts to the heart
Pull my feelings
Like they're puppet strings
Like breaking a precious
Piece of art
Like throwing away
Promise rings

I wished to the stars
Staring down,
"How about a ride?"
They replied,
"You'll be here, dear,
And we'll be waiting
When you arrive."

I hope you fall into the ocean,

or fall to me instead.