I am no longer the
Steady thrum of heartbeats
When issues against women are
Comically displayed on televisions.
Like there's something to
Laugh, guffaw, snicker, snort--
Tell you what, I can name a little
Too many synonymous words
And I can slap them all to your face, too.

I am no longer a suppressed voice,
Unable to tell you and all the other people
That as a girl (and a woman, later),
I have the right to be here.
I have the same rights to life,
To be alive, to be secure,
To have a good life!
And yet, you, who calls yourself a
Man of power, tells me,
"You are nothing."

I am angry with the absurdity
Of it all. Men continuing to abuse,
Women constantly cowering down--
Why are you so intent on showing power
When you are not God?
Why are you so afraid of fighting
For yourself?

I am seething with rage
For those who refuse to accept
Feminism just for the reason
That they do not want to be labeled--
Well, guess what? They have already
Shoved you underneath Weak and Submissive.
Who taught you that you are born
To impress men?
Who taught you that you only exist
To please them?

I will not have any of that ****.
I am a person of my own.
I am a human being, with rights.
And I AM FIGHTING to have
The same rights as you do.
Whoever told you that that's
Never gonna happen, can shove it up
Their *****.

I will not sit still on my chair while
The next police officer
Asks "Well, what were you wearing?"
To the next **** victim.
You and I both know that is not
The issue here.
No girl should hung their head in shame
That they got touched without consent.
It's not their fault! No one
Deserves to be *****.
And no, it's not snuggling, for you who
Even thought **** jokes on t-shirts
Are funny. It's not.

I am for Gender Equality.
For both men and women,
Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender,
To be treated with equal respect.
With equal opportunities.
With equality.
With no judgment.
Why must you counter that?

Look, I've been sitting in that same chair
For too long while issues spread and get
Larger like the plague.
I thought, let them handle it.
I thought, a small voice would be of no help.
But when did sitting down and staring
Get people somewhere?
When did any of passivity help us?

We already have everything to lose
So why not fight?
Bruce Banner told the other avengers
The secret of Hulk.
And I tell you the same:
Get angry.
Smash inequality.
I will always be right behind you.

I have no idea
what's worse:

to wake up
to
everyone
leaving,

to wake up
alone
or

to even
wake up
at
all.

Memory dreams. Multiverse.
Tell me we exist
in a parallel universe.

The cold festive wind blew;
Laughters, hollers of "Merry Christmas!"
Came along with the breeze.
Children, with their little toy drums
Bang, bang, banging away;
Choruses of "Gloria In Excelsis Deo";
Pine trees, Snow flakes, deformed Snowmen;

Houses are lined with
Blink, blink, blinking
Colorful lights and wreaths;
Somwhere among them,
in some living room,
"All I Want For Christmas" is on loop;
Cookies are laid for Santa Claus;
Presents are stacked
Under the Christmas tree--
With garlands and *****
And--

The Christmas lights
In a room in the middle of a second storey house,
Were shining as brightly as they could,
Being wrapped around the neck
Of a teenager misunderstood,
Hanging lifeless on the ceiling
With a note pinned that read,
"Happy Christmas from the dead."

I have no idea why
I always feel like
I'm struggling--
to do something,
to feel something,
to achieve something
when all I wanted
to do,
to feel and
to achieve
is
breathe.

Started with the tenth,
Ended with the twenty-fifth.
I am little red
And I’m looking at your pearly teeth.

How did I get so lost in the woods?
How did I get so lost in you?
You already ate half my heart
(Like the bread in my basket)You split it into two.

And I’m bleeding,
Dripping trails of blood,
I wasn't supposed to be here
I wasn't sure how I got.

My mother warned me
About the strangers in the woods:
Keep your eyes on the bread crumbs
Tighten your red, red hood.

The warlock healed me with his magic hands,
The huntsman vowed to avenge me,
The baker fed me with comfort,
The knight struck his shining sword valiantly.

Grandma said, ‘Forget the amber eyes, the deep voice, the untrue.’
‘Your true options stand before you.’
Yet why in the world (in the galaxy, in the stars)
Do I still choose you (who broke my heart)?

I love how quickly we just fell into place
like nothing happened,
like a year of nothing, a year of void space
didn't get in between.

I love how natural we can be
after that long miserable gap
and how I know I should feel
a little pretense--a tiny fakeness
but there was none of it.

I love how easy we fall into step
like we've been swaying to the same song
a thousand of times
in our shared separate universe
with each other--like we never even left.

I love our alternate universe
and how it still existed
waiting for us,
knowing that we would fall
like missing puzzle pieces
and it did fell in the right places,
making it seem whole.

and I love how the continuity
of what we had and now have
felt infinite and somehow real
and promising and that the idea imprinted on
a beyondness in the future.

but I do not love
how I could not forget
how I was left expecting
--no, assuming of what could've happened
on the miserable gap
because I am afraid that it would've changed
every. little. thing.

I do not love
how a simple little thing
stood between us like a wall
that got thicker and thicker,
piled with red hard bricks
and along the linings of our hearts,
a tinge of uncertainty had ensued.

alas I do not love
how quickly you bounced back in my life
thinking you could just walk into that wall
without even asking, without trying hard
you crossed that wall that easy
like snapping your fingers
or clapping your hands.

I do not love
how you chose now instead of then,
instead of yesterday,
or the day before that,
or the month before that day
or the next day when you decided to disappear.

and I do not love
how quickly I let you in
how I decided that i should still hold on
how I responded, shaking off the hesitation,
brushing off the doubts,
letting you fill me again
with that light only you radiate.

Dear Sir,

Should I go make myself visible--too visible in your eyes? I could pour over my brother's notes and raise my hand to every question you have just to have your eyes at me.

Was that too desperate? Should I play dumb and ask you for extra lessons outside of class? I could stand quiet corner coffee shops, away from prying eyes. I'll even discard the uniform. And you can get to wear that awful tie. That's what they call a "Win-Win Scenario" in Sales, right?

I could strike every corny joke in the block, make pick-up lines, even sing off key to make you see that I'm not such a student-y student.

I could be your friend! I could be your best student. I could be your favorite--I'll try extra harder! I could be your girl. I could be your coffee buddy, your official class manager/monitor, the very person you assign extra notes to be passed on. I'll volunteer on every project you have your hands into---

I want to be yours. In every possible single way. We could hustle and bustle in shadows of people who couldn't understand; I'll get you more weird looking ties for the weekend.  I could type your exams in exchange for extra tutoring; we'll hold each others hands until this winter melts to spring.

Because I swear, when your eyes met mine; when your lips told me "I'll see you again, next time."; I knew I needed you. It's time to make you need me, too.

We are not the ******* first summer rain, anymore. When heated water vapor condenses and unstable airs break through, we are now as dangerous as thunderstorms, cracking and flashing and desperately wanting to burn the whole sky down.

Sitting on the empty stair steps,
Pouring over a thousand of terminologies
In highlighted photocopies of this thick,
Hi.

I know how quiet it is there,
Away from the buzzing sounds
Of the other students in the room.
I know how you have to
Focus, focus, focus
So you chose the spot,
[Maybe absentmindedly? Maybe not?
(Sometimes I wanted to walk straight to you and ask)]
Trying to rack your brains
On what you crammed into it last night.
I know you.
That’s what I’m trying to say.

I know you, not fully, not totally, never enough
And maybe that’s a shame
Or maybe that’s okay
But I see you
More often than not
(It’s not destiny nor fate—just timing and space.)
And I see myself, somehow,
In you that when I pass by, whether up the stairs
Or down,
I can’t help but throw
One last glance,
One last look.
It’s a vague mirror.

I’ve seen the smiles you gave people:
The polite-hello smile,
The you’re-my-friend smile,
The I-know-you-but-I’m-not-sure smile (etc.).
I’ve seen how you walk over the cold tiled floor
Like you can take the world,
Although more humbly and
Without much cruelty.

I’ve seen the happiness in your smile
When people throw you
The look of recognition:
They know you.
You’re the smart one.
You’re the scholar.
You’re the overachiever.
You’re the nice, all-around guy.
You’re  basically, the best.

But I’ve also seen
The split-second of the tiresome day
Weighing down on your eyes.
I’ve seen you stare off space,
Looking like you wanted to run away.
I’ve seen the pressure on your
Blank face for only a second, a minute
That your mask gave away.

I want to tell you something.
I want to tell you the things I can’t tell myself.
I want to tell you the things I wanted to hear
When things spin too fast out of my hand.
I want to tell you, I know.
I want to tell you that sometimes,
It gets low.

And when it gets low
(Because it will get low and I know and I’m sorry),
Hold on, okay?

HOLD ON.

I know you don’t know me
Just as I don’t know you fully
But promise me something, okay?
Promise me, a nameless person,
Speaking to you through a
Typed message on paper,
That you’ll hold on through
The current that’s passing too strong, too fast.
That you’ll move on forward
When it gets haywire and foggy and weird.

Because
I see myself in you,
(Although somewhat lesser)
But unlike me, I know
One day,
You are going to be great.

So hold on,
Move on,
Go straight through
Because if you’ve reached the
Lowest point in your life
And no one puts their faith on you,
Forget them.

Forget them because
This nameless person right here
Knows the truth.

I believe in you
And I hope
You’ll believe in me, too.

Blow out the last smoke
Your heel on the cigarette,
Crush it; take a swig
Squeezing lemons on pearly white teeth
One more for brokenness, another for the road;
Lights. Lights. Lights.
–how is a place so blindingly bright
remain so dark, so void, out of life?

We traded this life from another
And traded those from another, too.
Gypsies. Indies. Crazies. Hipsters.
All of them, labels.
We (You) are far better.

There’s something ugly in whispers.
Oh but not those from you.
Not from you.
The line between escape and reality
Is just a line, really.
Come over. Here?
Come closer. There?
Yes, please.

We are nothing but fitting hands, loose shirts,
summer evening sweats, blisters
chain smokes, vivid lights,
My eyes never leaving the sight of your smile.

Come closer. More. Nearer.
Be in my blood. Cover my skin.
Run through the inhale and exhale of my lungs.
This never ending thing going?
God****, it’s enough.

‘Milkshakes remind of that movie.’
I took a sip of chocolate milk
And nodded
‘The street poet part?’
‘Sweet cakes and milkshakes,
I’m a delusion angel’
‘I’m a fantasy parade,
I want you to know what I think,’
‘Don’t want you to guess anymore’
I swallowed.
I don’t think that I’m ready to tell you
So I stall. ‘Swap?’
Tall milkshakes glasses slide over the table,
Across from each other, straws plunging in
I took a sip of vanilla and you took more
Than a gulp of chocolate
And I wanted to think that
You might like chocolate more
Than I like vanilla
But then maybe not.
Because what I feel feels
Much more larger than you
But just the thought of
You liking me too
Has probably woke every single sleeping neuron
In me.
The waiter sighs, thick-crust pepperoni slides over
You offer him a slice,
I offer him an apologizing smile
He shrugs, taking both.
And we take our first bite
Simultaneously
Pepperoni, mushrooms, bell pepper, cheese, sauce
Hitting our taste buds at the same time
And we chew in content together.
I would never want to miss
A single detail tonight
And I wouldn’t want even this
Tiny feeling exploding in me
Right now to be forgotten
‘I think this pizza deserves a poem.’
‘I’ll grab those napkins and ask for a pen.’*
And we wrote our undying love
as one.

Fast forward to
a few years later and
you'll suddenly hear
he's getting married.

The emotions you've been
suppressing in
your almost-hollow chest
will all resurface
and you will want
to do something you know
you should've done before.

But you won't do it.
You will cry it out, instead.
He might invite you.
And you will take that
perfect opportunity
to flee.

Just like what you have done
rewind to a few years before
and have been doing
since.

‘Can I launch the 20 Qs now?’
You laugh and you tell me that you love it
That I make you laugh and you add ‘Yes. Fire away.’
I wanted to keep you laughing,
To keep you happy
Now that I discovered a bit of Why me?
‘Are you on ****?’
You laughed. Harder, this time.
And I noticed that it’s because I love
Seeing you laugh—that head thrown back,
Loud laughter spilling from your mouth—
That it’s enough for me to want to
Keep you happy.
‘Maybe,’ you grin.
I stiffen, indignant. ‘You could get us killed, lunatic!’
(But then, if you do,
At least I’ll die with you)
‘Well, I wouldn’t blame that on the ****, love.
I’ll blame your PJs for that, so distracting.’
Playful slaps on the arm,
Half-feeling sorry for myself and my
Finn and Jake pyjamas
Playful pouts and rubs on the arm.
‘So where are we going?’
You tell me that you haven’t figured that out yet
And that if I had something in mind, you’d be open
‘My mind is wandering off to the land of milkshakes.’
‘My mind would love to wander off to the land of milkshakes with your mind.’
I laugh and tell you that that reminds me of Cummings
And together, we chorus
‘I like my body when it is with your body.’
Until we reached the diner with a CLOSED sign hanging
‘Should we grab a crow bar and break in?’
Your laugh vibrated through the cold, silent air
Before grabbing my wrist and pulling me back to the car.
(I had suppressed the thought:
Please don’t let go ever.
To the dark depths of my mind)
‘How about 24-hour pizza?’
‘Had me at pizza.’ I grin.
‘I know.’
And I know, too.
I fell for you.

our legs have been decapitated
as soon as we saw each other on the halls
we fret, we tense up, we ignore
without meaning to, without intension.

this wall that had been built
was unplanned, was not meant to
it was built by awkwardness
and shyness that stood
as the hindrance
we never asked for.

shouldn't it be conquered
by the favor of talking?
by the mutualness of our beings?
by the expectations of our souls?

but we are cripples
legs leaving us as we meet
crippled by the longing
of the shared familiarity,
of the proximity we had.

we are cripples,
disabled by the things around us,
by the things we worry about
not moving, fixated on the ground
but wholebeingly hoping, entirely wishing.

‘Let’s do a Sam, Patrick and Charlie,’
(Do I even have to tell you that
I’m always in-yes with you?)
‘What’s our tunnel song?’
Click. Radio music filling the car.
You tell me over the music that
You don’t want a tunnel song
Because
Why have one song when we
Can have a playlist of it?
Our tunnel playlist starts with:
                                                         01. young blood—the naked and the famous: you’ll keep my secrets
                                                        ­                          hope to die/promise and swear it to the sky.
                                                         02. love somebody—maroon 5: and if I fall for you/ I’ll never recover
                                                         03. lego house—ed sheeran: and I’ll surrender up my heart /
                                                                ­                          and swap it for yours
                                                         04. animal—neon trees: what are you waiting for? / take a bite of my
                                                                ­                           heart tonight
                                                         05. yellow—coldplay: do you know? / you know I love you so
                                                         06. i need you now—lady antebellum: and I wonder if I ever cross  
                                                         ­                                  your mind / for me it happens all the time
                                                         07. lightning—the wanted: how many times do I fly through your
                                                                ­                  headspace / now it’s speeding away from a safe place
I don’t even like half of the songs
The radio played but it was
Perplexing how I find a
Line or two of it
To keep track of
My feelings.
‘Do you see it?’* You gesture at the road.
I recalled that bit of Charlie’s letter.
Omitted bits of it and filled it with some
As lightning—the wanted starts to fade
And another song plays,
‘I like this song,’ I tell you
‘I like it, too.’
and if you only die once/
i wanna die with you
‘Let’***** the notes,’
—fingers drumming on the wheel
I finger snap occasionally.
When the song ended, we have
The same answer for the same question:
‘Do you feel infinite?’

What stands between us is time.
Schedules, plans, events--
Every second, every minute, every hour
We are travelling apart.
I think of you when my time is
No longer occupied
But isn't it that I'm supposed to
Think of you all the time?

What stands between us is distance.
You are a hundred miles above sea level
And I am already drowning below.
By time you jump off the sea to save me,
(Will you? Will you?)
The ocean has already wrapped its arms
Around me and yet they say,
Distance does not matter.

What stands between us is fear.
I say to the mirror,
I love you.
I say to the mirror,
But I'm afraid we're not working out.

What stands between us is them.
A girl smiles, a guy winks.
That lab partner has accidentally
Brushed your arm,
And he held my stare for too long.
"You know he'll eventually find someone there, right?"
"You know someone will eventually whisk her away, right?"
Eventually. Like we cannot do anything about it.
(We can, though.)

What stands between us is us.
You grin back, I blushed.
Our world was filled with only two pairs of eyes.
Our separate worlds is now invaded with too many.
That hole in our gut that says 'I miss you.'
Has been ignored too often
We mistake it for stress.
We mistake it for something else.
We mistake.

(We can do something
But the thing here is
We probably won't.)

‘It’s four-thirty,’ I say
And I think we both sensed
The dreaded end is nigh
‘It’s four-thirty-one,’you point out
‘Would it be weird to admit that—‘
I stopped. I wanted to admit
A lot of things without sounding weird
‘You don’t want this night to end?
No. Because me, neither.’
I took the chance to glance at you
And smile.
You took the chance to glance off the road
And smile.
‘So where to, next?’
You gave me a knowing grin.
‘You’ll see.’
I puffed out a breath.
‘Come on, wouldn’t you like to be surprised?’
‘I’d rather anticipate.’
‘Oh but where’s the fun in that?’
I just grinned. Because
I want to believe
That you’re right
And I want to believe
That you actually did
Plan something
For me tonight.
‘Eye spy?’ I offered.
You tell me that you spy
Something with light—
Lamppost.
You tell me that you spy
Something that goes on—
Road.
As you go on—
Tree, dashboard, yellow lines, my PJs;
I laugh as I secretly spy on
How the light hits your eyes
As you drive.
(I wonder if you
Could even guess how
Beautiful it is.)

I see lighter skin under your short sleeves; and your cut off jeans, fraying at the seams.

There's a trail of sweat from your temple to your neck; but your eyes dance without regrets.

It was all sun, sun, sun and rain. It was all dance, dance, dance and no pain.

Time is with us. No, time is us. We are never ending. We are infinitely flying;

You are holding my hand; you are pulling me, and

We are falling apart, but with all of our hearts.

the clanging when the gates open
as the dogs bark, shut the gate only to hear rusty
metal screech rusty metal, i think
i am home

gravel crunch under my shoes, crunch, crunch
to open the screenless screen door, push
aside the heavy sliding second door, i think
i am home

walk into the canary room with its rich
maroon-tiled floor, turn right for the stairs, leave your
shoes before you go 10 steps up, i think
i am home

another door is wide open, smell the waft of dog-shampoo,
dog burst through, get slapped on the shins with its heavy wagging
tail and invites you the the dark green couch, i think
i am home

walk on the wooden floor as the bookshelves rattle
when i pass by, rattle, rattle, leave my bag on the chair, reach the fridge,
look for food and sit on the polished yellow table, i think
i am home

the last room and its rich dark brown door, with its
antique bed: lay down, contemplate, count the squares above it--48
blink, open another door to the balcony, graze the cold cement, i think
i am home

look into the backyard with patches of dead grass, inhale oxygen,
exhale sadness, go back inside and smile, finally, i think
i am home

as i smell that unique scent of mom in the bathroom, see the table
dad made from ply woods, sort my sister's things, smile at my brother's grad picture,
sit with the dog on the couch, scratch its ears, i know
i am home

midnight strikes, detach from the computer, rub tired eyes, brush my
teeth on the blue-tiled sink, reach the orange door quietly, take one last glance on
the mirror and enter the capiz faux-door of the bedroom we all share, hear
all of your soft snores and shufflings under the blanket,
collapse on the bed, this is it.
i am home.

Eyes blinking, jaw dropping.
I wouldn’t believe it.
‘It’s open,’ I had observed dumbly.
‘It is,’ you agree, grinning at me.
Eyebrows furrowing, mouth opening
‘How the hell is that possible?’
My mind ran into maybe a hundred
Answers for you but
‘It just is.’ You shrugged
Like this was the most common thing
In the world
Like a Carnival is always open
At about five a.m.
But that’s not really what
Bothers me—it’s how the hell
You could have known
That there’s a large space
For Carnivals
In my heart.
‘So.’ You say. I sense a tinge of
Nervousness in your voice.
For the first time in this night
I turned to look at you
And swallow you and just you in.
(It wasn’t enough.)
I still don’t know what to say:
Because “thank you” doesn’t
Seem enough
And if I don’t say anything,
I’m afraid you might mistake it
For something else
I cannot even fathom.
So I just held out my hand,
Hoping that this time
You’ll take it—
Take it and
Don’t.
Let.
It.
Go.

Ever since you told me that you think of me every time it rains,
I've been smiling like an idiot and staring into space.

I've never seen anyone as in love with the rain as I am
and my parents have never seen me smile the way that I am
smiling right now.

Oh but what kind of rain could we be?
Light as drizzles?
Heavy as hurricanes?
Sizzling as thunderstorms?
Dangerous as typhoons?

Are we
the continuous rain of an August night?
The melted snow of Winter transitioning
into Spring?

I know! We are the first Summer rain. Cool and refreshing.
The rain that makes you rush out of the house and into the grey, grey skies.
The rain you've been wishing for after a long warm night.
The rain that you want to stay under until it dries.
The rain you want to savor for the rest of your life.

Stay a little longer, will you?

this time,
I have one goal in mind:
to see the sunrise.
I have waited, waited, waited
for hours in the dark
and I just wanted
to see the sun
rise out from it
slowly,
within transitions of
vanilla dawn--
a swirly mass of blues, whites,
purples, pinks, oranges and yellows.
my test of faith came
at four a.m
that clever hour of
coolness, tricking the body
to curl up and
sleep.
but thank God
I resisted
(although I admit, I closed my
eyes for a minute)!
so the yellows and oranges
slowly burst through
the mass of lonely
black and blue
and I'm overwhelmed by the
questions of day from
'when do the lamp post lights
turn off?'
to
'am I as ready as I prepared myself to?'
then I figured that
sunrises are as
lonely as
sunsets because
the world does not change
overnight.
but it was still changing (or maybe
it just feels like it)
to see the sunrise,
to catch the faux hope
that comes with its light.

"Decorate
Yourself
With
Flowers"--they say;
"It might make you okay."
But the only decoration
I want is your
name
whether
tattooed in vain or
scratched in pain.

You wrinkle your nose, No
I laughed. ‘Why?’
‘It’s silly.’
‘Sillier than driving
In the middle of the night
To my house and
Pulling me away
To eat pizza and
Drink milkshakes and
Write poetry in our arms
And sing and scream
And driving into a
Miraculously open
Carnival?’
You rolled your eyes
‘I’d rather do a Holden Caulfield on you,’
Would that mean that
To you
I’m just...Phoebe?
I shot you a sceptical look
And told you that
One ride at a carousel
Won’t taint your
Masculinity.
I sure as hell hoped
That I convinced you because
I don’t want you to be Holden
If I’m just Phoebe,
I’d rather be Jane Gallagher even
If there wasn’t a scene in the book
Written for us.
I know that if I could be Jane,
We could write
Our own **** story
And our story would
Be better.
So please, please, please
Say yes
To going to the carrousel
With me
And we could start writing
Our story as Jane
And Holden.

l = df + [(s × p + t) / ( h + d + g )] + (a + u + o)*
                                                                        where*,
df = defining moment, the addend of great impact
s = sadness, a constant, never leaving, never changing
p = pain, the demanding factor, the intensifying emotion
t = struggles, the sum of undergoings, of trials and errors
h = happiness, a variable, unknown, changing, conflicting
d = dreams, an addend of the subconscious, hopeful but not certain
g = goals, a variable of direction, a hopeful assurance of the future
a = achievements, the addend of success, a mark of triumph
u = attitudes, a wholesome factor, an important measure
o = thoughts, the shaping addend, the root of transforming, contracting, making

I'm not trying to romanticize something that is not there. The truth is, I don't even remember half of the conversations we had. I don't recall the feeling that came along when I'm talking to you. Was I happy? Was I sad? Did I even feel something? But then there's this space thudding in my chest, forming in my gut and it says that I miss you. I don't know why. I don't know how. I just do. It just seems like the missing puzzle piece in me is screaming. And it's screaming you.

You've been picking
even-numbered petals
from flowers all these time
because you thought
the odds won't be against you.

When nature shows you a sign,
it is most likely to be
a. True b. False
Whatever it is,
Do not pretend you're blind.
Take another look.
Read between the lines.

A dozen wildflowers
is still an even number.
He only means to tell you:
this won't last forever.

Decayed and dead after a week.
Cryptic love is cryptic.
Like is not love, haven't you heard?
Haven't you looked at the flowers?

When the sun has set
and your eyes are tired,
the empty space in your chest,
in your mind, in your bed.
Hollow that was once filled,
his love was beguiled.

If I would have
to write your name
a thousand times,
I would.

My hands would
tire and cramp---
but it would be
a pleasant cramp. A
pleasant
tiresomeness.

For your name is pleasant
and it would be
too much
of a
pleasure
to write it
a thousand times.

we wander freely
like negative charges of a magnet
looking for the positives
to fill the void,
the empty space left hanging

but contrary,
(contrary is what we're always good at)
contrary to the beliefs, to life,
and even to physics itself,
we're the only ones who could fill the void,
the space with so many possibilities left hanging

we're a magnet made to be wrong
the negatives on either side of the pole
attracting no other poles,
no other charges as we realized
there could be no one
but us.

When I think of the ocean,
I think of the word "drown".
When I hear the word plane,
I see "crash".
When I'm on rooftops,
I feel, "fall".
When I see sharp things,
I hear, "stab".

Birds might peck me.
Cars might hit me down the road.
Metals can conduct electricity.
Words can betray people.
Actions will ****.

Dark corners reminded me
Of shadows and demons
That I keep;
My closet holds more
Skeletons than I could count;
I can't help thinking
We are going to end.
So when you keep saying you love me,
All I'm really hearing was "destroy".

my love for you is an idea
brought forth by a collage of ideas
pinned on a bulletin board
built with long, late hours at night,
in a tiny chatbox of mutualness
vibrating hope in every ping!

those ideas of starry escapades,
pizzerias,
ice creams and waffle cones,
and coffee when it gets sleepy
the very idea of you
just kept me wide awake

but that bulletin board
of fragile hopes and dreams
broke! it's post-it notes fell
freely. lightweight paper scattered
on the floor getting stepped
by the feet of reality

the hot-air balloon of idea
landed finally on the ground
unsafe, breaking
because it shouldn't have left
it shouldn't have been ignited
it shouldn't have flew

all of you I've loved
is an idea
I built so bitterly
for you made no move
and I made no step--
a tragic idea, indeed.

tears are
heaving down on
us, a
never-ending
depression that the
earth experiences; a
rapid
sorrow
that eats up and lets
out a shattering
remorse filled with deep
m**alevolence

You weren't meant to stay longer, my love, my rain. Because if you did, we would have drowned the entire existence with drastic floods.

I wanted to move on, too.
We both have been there, haven't we?
Got out hearts dropped, stomped on.
I know we're both afraid but
You know I know you see it, too.
Go on, don't be scared.
You get the gasoline,
I'll grab the matches.
Start the fire and
"All you there!
See us burn."

‘So stay.’ I am really
Trying not to spill down
Water from my eyes
If you decline.
‘Stay and we’ll talk.
Stay and we’ll eat Cheerio’s
And Fruit Loops with or
Without milk—just stay.’
‘Are you trying to convince me?’
‘Are you convinced?’
‘You don’t have to. I’m always
In-yes with you.’
Front porch wood creaking.
Door closing.
Front porch light switching off.

‘Sunrise.’* You breathe out
As the sky swirls
Its majestic colors
Of blue, orange, yellow, pink
‘It’s always lovely isn’t it?’
‘It’s one of the lovely
And lonely things,’ I sigh.
I’m sorry that
I just can’t help
Myself sometimes
On seeing the sad in
Beautiful, beautiful things.
I know you said
That it’s because I’m doubtful
But then, no.
Some things are just that.
Flawed.
We just fail to see
Past its beautiful exterior.
‘What could be possibly lonely
About the sunrise?’
You inquire (and
I love that you would want to
Hear some explanation I have).
‘Hope,’ I called out
‘Doesn’t it symbolize hope?
Doesn’t it sprays out the message
Of a new beginning?
As if you can undo all the
Wrong things—but you can’t.
Hope breeds eternal misery,
Doesn’t it? It’s effing lonely.’
It could be weird but I certainly don’t
See the sunrise as billions of eyes see it.
I had expected you
To give me a look and tell
Me to stop seeing the sadder side,
Goodness knows that what everyone does—
‘Here,’ You reached out your hand
I gave you a strangle look
‘Take it,’ your amused voice floats
‘So we could walk together and
Look like sad gits together and
Ponder on what makes sad things sad.’
But by then I am in no way
Sad, I could the happiest
Person alive.

I made a mistake. We are nothing but drizzles.

So we were back
To laughing as we
Drove home.
Home. I remember something
I read, “Is it possible for home
To be a person and not a place?”
It hadn’t meant much back then
But as you tell me
The truth about
How you’re actually cousins with
The one who owns the Carnival;
How you think that this
Is just the best five hours
Of your life;
How we should do this
Next time or every time,
Every day or every night;
I wanted you
To be my home
Because I have
Never felt at home in my
Entire life than
When I’m with
You.

‘I figured out the hamartia,’
I tell you breathlessly.
You were still clutching
Your shirt for breath
(And your cheeks are pink
From the cold)
‘My heart is thumping like crazy,’
‘I know. Mine is, too.’ I grin, for you.
‘That was one hell of a ride’ you wheeze
‘I should puke but I won’t,’
I laugh at the incredulousness
Of your little anxieties
And how you strain them in.
I patted your back as
We took a seat on a bench
And you took your breath
‘You okay?’
You nod. ‘You were saying
About the hamartia?’
I love that you keep
Track of what I’m saying
Even if we wander far away.
‘Right. It’s cotton candy.’
You laugh. ‘Really now?’
‘Sugar just sometimes solves it all,’
You pinched my cheeks
And pulled on it
Playfully
‘Sugar ******’ you teased,
I think you just
Caught me off guard
And I think that
I like it.
‘But tell you what, I know something
Better than stuffing sugar,’
You always seem to be so
Enthusiastic, don’t you?
‘Surprise me,’
I say because
This time
I wouldn’t want
To anticipate.

how depressing could it be
to live as a bubble
you'd be blown into life in a minute
and be popped to death in a second.

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
hang it on the ceiling
and then kick off the chair

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
and I will fall off limply
and then I will be dead

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
and then I will not suffer
your unrequited love again

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
I hope you will not scream
as blood oozed down my head

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
don't cry-oh no! don't.
just know it's all your fault

get me a rope
and I will tie my neck
I will be forever dead
leaving you eternally haunted.

because when i hear this particular song you had told me about once, i still think of you. because i still check your blog even if i know you haven't updated it in two years. because i wait out for you to go online in facebook at our time and i wait until 3 am just to make sure. because i saw you sitting in 7eleven once and now i crane my neck to look at 7eleven just to check if you're there. because i still write your initials and scratch them heavily. because when i hear a song you'd like, i write it down and compile it to a mix. because when i drink coffee, it makes me think of you. because i bought these kiddie pirate tattoos and posted a picture of it to see if you'll like it. because every post i make wishes to get a like from you. because i want to go to where you are even if it's a five-hour bus ride away just to take a glimpse of your face. because i read the books you read. because i'm running out of reasons here. *i'm still in love with you. and that's mainly the reason why.

In my Anatomy class, they said, "The lips has the most nerve endings.";
That should explain how brutal my feelings were under that flickering lamp post.

At 6:45 am, right before my first class, I spot the Cappuccino in can at a convenience store;
I always buy this simply because you first bought this for me.

At the bus, I find seats right by the window;
I tie my hair and miss the way you would tie it for me.

The new Coldplay song plays, "And you're always in my, always in my head...";
It has been on repeat for the whole night.

A guy in denim and messy hair walks by twice, thrice;
By the fourth time, he has your face.

And in a desk, I found your name faintly carved;
I retraced it heavily. Over and over again.

yes,

I would gladly
give away my life
                         for someone who wants to have extra years;
                         for someone who wants another chance;
                         for someone so afraid to die.

I would gladly
swap my life
                with the dying old man depending on a tank;
                with the hopeful little child suffering so young;
                with the hopeless yet struggling victims of life.

I would gladly
share my extra breath
                          to the guy about to drown;
                          to the girl with mets on lungs;
                          to the people suffocating under their heavy rock.

because

they all seem to need it
                           more than I'll ever do.
they all seem worth it
                           more than I'll ever be.
they all seem to want it
                           more than I ever will.

because

I could be
nothing, nothing, nothing
so tiny, so insignificant
so unworthy, so void.

and they could be
something, something, something
so large, so significant
so worthy, so full.

so who am I
to sit here and be useless,
burying all this from happening
when I don't even do anything?
                               I might as well
give my life away to them,
see them live and do everything
they have been wanting to do
but haven't had a chance to.

but then darling,
sometimes the people are
beautiful, too
—just their ability to
comprehend,
believe
and oh! love
until it breaks and shatters them
but still
recover from it
and stand—
they are deeply
fascinating.

It seems that our love is like the rain. It will pour hard, unleashing all the contained energy. Then it will pour harder, letting it all go, consuming our very being. And eventually, it will stop. Leaving nothing but the aftermath of us which will dry soon enough. Looking like nothing even happened.

I took a long glance
At the stars above
The sky as
You drive away.
It was a quarter to six
In the morning and
Our night is
Nearing its end.
This time, we
Drove with a
Blanket of silence
Thrown upon us—
It wasn’t eerie nor
Awkward, it was
The kind of silence that suits
Driving away at 5:49 a.m. to
Goodness-knows-where,
Comfortable and easy
And cool as the cold wind of
The almost-morning dew that
Seeps through the
Half-rolled down window.
I feel like I
Could get used to these
Kinds of moments with you,
Not getting bothered
Of the silence
That ensues between us.
We could be together
With ease
Through laughter
And silence, especially
Because it has always been silence
That is harder to
Bear.
And...
It has always been this way,
Hasn’t it?
It had always
Been this easy
And comforting
To be
With you.

I had a dream about you last night. You sent me an e-mail about not caring about anything anymore. But me. You told me that you know that saying you love me is cliche' but you said you love me, anyway.

You have no idea how that e-mail made me happy. I remembered hugging my laptop from the dream. I read your e-mail until I knew it by heart but even in my subconscious dream I know it won't be enough.

So can you imagine the frustration and sadness and patheticness I felt when I woke up?

I should never wake up, again.