Maybe. Just maybe.

Maybe we'll meet again, when chances itself had opened its doors for us
When time itself isn't running us out
and when faith replaced all our unspoken doubts

Maybe we'll meet again When that song doesn't need to end so soon.
When we don't have be alone anymore looking at the same moon.

When sad movies doesn't need to be sad anymore.
And when we'll finally see with closed eyes what we have not seen before

Maybe we'll meet again when we don't have to be strangers anymore
When things are not complicated by goodbyes
And beginnings doesn't need to start up with a hello.

Maybe we'll meet again somewhere in time
when we know ourselves all too well,
That we don't have to let each other go
When we're old enough to be young
And when we won't be fool to destroyed with our tongues.
When we are already capable of doing what we are not years ago.
When we have already faced our fears,
And sadness doesn't describe anymore our tears.

Maybe I'll fall in love again with you or maybe I would not,
And I just have to met you for some reasons life would let me know later.

Maybe we'll meet again, and we're not us, but the same you and me years ago, not actually caring if we have been
loved or unloved, missed or unmissed; have been lost or have been found, have been broken or have healed, or if we're still beautiful or had became a disaster.

I would not care at all, meeting you and this love once again along the way someday.

And maybe, just maybe; it doesn't have to be a maybe.

One day, we'll  finally
fall in love with what we have been,
with who we have been.
One day we'll be finally
see beyond our flaws,
And see what we have not seen.
One day we'll say those three words,
and we'll finally mean it;
One day we'll be found, and we'll be forever lost in the idea of it.

Just one, special day apart from today,
we'll walk the same road once again
Our feets sore from a long walk,
our maps leads to one another.

It may not be today,
or in the depths of tonight
it may be not the next day after,
Or the years after that.
Or even after this lifetime that we had.
It just have to be one day.
And I'll hold on to that day.
That one day, when we don't have to wish for that one day.
And things will happen.
And you and I, will happen.

One day.

Let's make a fool out of
our ourselves today.

Tell me you love me, and I'll do the same.
Tell me I've been in your dreams,
and I'll worship your name
Tell me we'll be something,
and I'll start the flame
Tell me our love's going to be a mess,
and I'll take the blame.

Just tell me this things,
and forget them tomorrow
Just let me remember this things,
Even if their lies brings me sorrow.

And even if you won't do them to me,
then I will; to you.

For long ago I did. I have.
I will.

I'll always will.

I am so broken, you'll end up being hurt trying to put me back,

I am so faded, you'll lose your colors trying to paint me up

I am so closed,  you'll forget to open yourself up trying to do the same with me
I am so cold, that you'll lose your wamth trying to bring the summer into my winter soul

My eyes were so sad, you'll forget to spark yours up trying to make them look happy.

I am so quiet, that you won't hear the words written in my lips that tells you I love you

I am so many things, that you won't see I am trying to reach  you

And that I want you to fall in love with yourself first before falling in love with me, and my many things.

One day you'll see,
You deserve roses than flowers.
One day, you'll be
The one who will be the reason for someone to spend their loyal hours
One day, you'll smile in glee,
Because you let love purely
as it should be.
One day, you'll know,
That it's not that bad to heal and grow,
Because one day you'll realize
And you'll witness it through your eyes,

That loving yourself once more wouldn't hurt you.

Rather, it would only bloom you.

Maybe she doesn't want you to keep on hoping because she knows too
well how painful hoping is.

Maybe she doesn't want you to wait for her because she knows how tormenting
waiting could be.

Maybe she doesn't want you to be not okay, because she knows very well
how does it feel to be not okay.

And maybe, just maybe--she wants you to love her too, somehow,
somewhere back there;
but not in the way you wanted to.

Don't change me,
into something I'm not.

It's like treating yesterday
as if I never existed there,
It's like treating past like it
never shaped the person I am today

I am not an unsolved puzzle,
I am not those lights that switches;
I am a sculpture at work.
An endless fusion of hues;
A lip that holds a thousand
secretive clues

It may be a long work before I can be appreciated by many or not,
Or before I could be perfected,
be firm into my shapes,
be sultry in my mixtures.

but this I tell you, you will soon see the best part in absorbing me; above all the
colors life had splashed on me.

An endless rainbow of me.

Being okay is not something you can just achieve overnight, or over a day, or even over a week. It's not something you rush, it's something that takes time, an uncertain length of time.

It would take you on some sort of uncertain journey knowing yourself, like knowing what makes you not okay today, or what makes you feel alright again the next day.

You will really never know when will you be completely okay, that's the truth; but the good thing here is this: you have all the time in world to finally be.

You have all the time for yourself to use it, to take the chance to  finally learn how to say "I'm not okay." at times you're not. Denying the truth to yourself won't help, accepting it and embracing it, would. You have to treasure that downfall moment, everyday; every weekend, in a midst of everything.
You have to do something about it, and what's more to create something from it, of all people; for yourself.

It can be a messy puzzle to fix, it can be a long process to be done with, but remember this:  It's okay to work on being okay, it's okay to find out what would work for you or what would not;

than to fret and work on nothing at all.

Some things are meant to reach their end, even if they're a few steps away from happening.

No, I won't compare this sentence to you and me.

We are not meant  to be in the first page.
We can't meet at the end.
We can't happen.

We just can't.

It's time.

It's about time to move on when the traffic lights turned green,
It's about time to know what the word "change" actually mean
It's about time to let those sad songs play out of the playlist
It's about time to let the roses bloom without a lover's kiss.

Yes, it's time

It's about time to look at yourself at the mirror long enough,
To keep yourself away from staring at someone else's photograph.

We were the seasons,
and you happen to be the rain,
I happen to be the open leaf on its roots, waiting for you in vain

My umbrella's not broken,
yet I'll shut if off
To feel your moist within my skin,
having you falling so soft
To welcome you within my lips,
within my cheeks,
for I have missed you all
those lonely, summer weeks

We were the the seasons,
and you happen to be the rain,
I'll let you fall,
I'll let you wet my shirt and
leave some stain
As long as you'll let me feel you
You, and your underlying, falling pain.

I would, rather.

I'd rather have no's than fake yes'
I'd rather have lessons than regrets
I'd rather have "oh well's" than "what if's"
I'd rather have beginnings than endings.

Enough to say,
I'd rather have me to myself, waiting;
and you to yourself, healing;

Than the imposible "us" pretending;
to ourselves.

I don't want you to regret losing me.
I don't want you to regret anything that
is associated with me being gone.

Because I never did at the act of meeting you, and even more at the act of loving you, of keeping everything about you next to my heartbeat.

You didn't lose me.
I didn't lose you.

We both got nothing to lose because between you and me there was nothing.

But I did lose something, though.
Me."

#Today'sThought
- Franz Bartolome Poetry

Sometimes, you meet people and you clearly remember how you met them, and it would be such a fine story you could tell anyone.

Yet sometimes you meet people, and you fall for them, and you can't even remember if it happened on a sunny or in a rainy day, or in a place or in a moment.  

All you know is you love them,
Without how and when,
or how long since then.

Beautifully, you just do.

You found her, and you met her.
Yet she was, and still is broken,
when you get to know her.

Be with her. Stay. Be in her shoes. Isolate yourself with her at times she feels like doing it. Feel as if the tears she keeps wiping were yours. Feel her torn pages as if a page of yours has been teared up. Be with her in her lonely galaxy. Be the leaf that catches her raindrops when it rains endlessly. Be the wall that welcomes her cold back when she leans at times her world were too heavy for her to remain standing in one piece. Be what she didn't tell you to be. Moreover, be everything she would be grateful for later.

Just be there for her. She might tell you she wanted to be alone, but trust me; she wanted for someone to be alone there with her, too.

We could have been the sand
and the sea that is inseperable,

But in reality we are the day and night,
The sunsets and the sunrises,

That is destined to end one another;
To beautifully begin, apart.

I don't see you with
that pretty face anymore.

I now see you with a
shadowed soul that's pure and fragile,
a heart that beats with a thousand fragmented shades of love.

No, I don't see you
with that smile anymore.

I now see you as a dream, just a dream-- just waiting to finally come true to life.

Suddenly you're twenty, and you'll lie on your back, you'll face the ceiling and you'll look at it like it's only thing that mattered in the world for you.

You were old enough but you were
too young to think like one
You were breathing but you're not alive.
You were on your back
but you were not there.
There's a certain coldness
around you but you're bathed in sweat
There's an endless flow of tears
but your eyes had long ran dry.

There's a burning hole in your mind that kept on thinking about the things you might have done wrong, or the things that could go wrong tomorrow or the next day after.

You wouldn't know.
But you know.

And you'll realize that people were
wrong when they said that life is
a pocket full of happiness.
They are wrong.
And so are you.

You are wrong believing them.

I'll find you, and cherish
you in another time.

In another life.
In another dimension.
In another soul and in another heart.

I'll look out to you in another pair of eyes,
Hold you in another pair of hands,
Speak to you in another lips,
in another voice, in another tone.
And be with you in another chance.

And in this another, I'll make
sure that I'll make you stay.
I'll make sure we'll have another day.
and we'll have no more lies to say.
And we won't have to keep
our wonders at bay.

I'll find you, until finding isn't necessary anymore. Because chance itself gave me another piece of it to not let another you, to be taken away by another.

There will always be another us,
another you, another me;
But there will never be another love.
Or at least the kind of love that we have.
That we had.

I wouldn't dare to look someone straight in the eyes for a moment before. Because they would see something, some place, some figments of memory stored in me.  A certain feeling, and if one would really look closely—someone’s face.

They would see how empty I was inside, and how convincingly full I am on the outside, and how I mastered the art of pretention.
They would see how I wanted for someone like them to want me.
They would see that beyond this lifeless, cold pair of eyes were a thousand rainbows of unchased dreams and a sky filled with unrealistic dreams. How I wanted to be wanted. And above all;
how I want to be found.

They would see the fears I have withheld through the years,
The emotions I have keep to tuck inside me whenever I am blinded that they are there

The sparks of sadness I hide
The truth I have made to abide

Most people would look away, and tried to unseen what they have seen, and smile awkwardly and move on with their lives. And when that moment of detachment happens, even if it were in a blink of an eye, everything would be gone. The magic, if there was any. The connection, if I have made any. Even the sense of being there would be gone. Even the coldness. Even the warmth.
And even me. I would be gone as well.

Once someone retracts from staring back at me, and so does I.
There is nothing more painful than the idea of someone to avoiding their visions away from yours.
It’s like avoiding their lives with yours.
Some people would say miracles doesn’t at all happen, but I believe they do, somehow.

And that’s when someone look back right at me and actually, stay.

I have words  for everyone.
I have words for the broken,
For the ones who were left behind.
For the dreamers, the wanderers,
the seekers, for the risk taker.
I have words for the ones who have been lost, have been found, have been heared, or have been just a sound.
For those that were loved,
for those who were unloved.

The missed, the unmissed.
for the feelings that still exists,
for the lips that were still unkissed.
I have words for everyone,
old and young
for everything;
Spoken or sung,
for every feeling,
relating, revealing.

Yet at  the end of the day,
After all the game,  after all the play
After all the come and go,
After all the high and low
and after all the rain, after a rainbow
I'd love to have someone who'll have few real sweet words for me, as much as I have thousands for the world itself.

Write about me once. Just once. And I, beautifully,  will write about
you forever.

You'll know my worth, by the time I forgot yours and I am reminded of mine;

You'll soon be in love with me, by the time I won't be with you, but I am, finally;


with myself.

Maybe sometimes there's a
reason why chance reconnects us with people from our past.

Maybe it's to ask the unasked,
Answer the unanswered.
Tell the untold,
Or close the unclose.

Yet maybe it's also another way of telling people to re-open things that should have been opened years ago, and feel things that should have been felt a long time ago, all leads to the 'should have's.

I do believe that happy endings
somehow do exists.
And so does second chances.

It was just an ordinary day
A day intended for him to play
The day is beautiful, he have been told by the sun
He can run here and then, and have some fun

Then somewhere, came a loud sound
His ears rung, as he fell on the ground
Everything has fallen, has fallen down
The smoke blind his eyes, in an ocean of bricks he was drowned

There was pain, there was pain,
And he felt it within his bones again and again
It was a bomb, it had been a bomb
Leaving him shocked, shocked, and terribly numb

He was carried later,
On a crowd where they just watch him suffer
Why are they staring? He asked
Why are the camera lights flashing, is it a must?
Why are they around, he wonder
Shouldn't they be helping him -- where's mother?

Where is she? Where is dad?
Why is this have to be so bad?
Have he done something wrong?
Why the explosion  has become his song?

Is this the beautiful life he was promised?
A life where war and bombs and spilling bloods were cherished?
Is this the beautiful world he was told?
Is this the once upon a time in a story book beginning to unfold?


With broken chin,
Blood kissed skin
Dust combed hair
People who waits recognition to care –
Is this the world he was told to be loving and fair?

His eyes sparkle with that of the explosion,
His lips quiver of that of a lifetime destruction
Five years old, five years old, was his age
He's the five years old boy, forever mark with one of life's cruellest rage.

Help, yes -- lend a helping hand
To save more innocence everywhere on the land
This isn't their war, their lives shouldn't be sacrificed, -- the young ones
Let's be human, just for always, just for a thousand once.

- Franz Bartolome Poetry

She didn't knew he was falling for her, that behind those brown eyes and noble smile were the images of her locked away somewhere in those days they have come to meet at the same hallway of that school.

She didn't knew her ugliest smile was the prettiest for him, she didn't knew she's been loved; when she can't find any more reasons to love herself once again.

She didn't knew he is wishing for her as much as she wishes for the stars to turn her heart aches into dust, and little did she knew she could be this special to someone, when the world had made her believe that there is nothing more special in store for her.

She didn't know many things,
yet upon all of it that she regretted the most was that she didn't knew such love could exist, and it is especially, and irrevocably,

of all people---for her.

Maybe it's better this way.
that we won't have photographs to keep,
and we won't have no memory of us to remember before we sleep

Maybe it's better this way,
that we don't have to deal with the end of  something that we didn't started.
That we don't have to seal something
that we didn't promised.

Maybe it's better this way.

No, let me scratch the maybe out.
Yes. It's better this way."

"I know pain too well. It eats you inside.

It makes you sketch an imaginary smile on your lips everyday so people won't ask, so people won't need an explanation why you are the way you are today, or the days before. But let's face it: people only hear what they want to hear, and pain is not one of them.

I know it too well, that all I wanted in the end was to save someone's hearts from feeling it. And in that moment, it got to be yours.
It happen to be you."

I guess that's what love is.
It enlightens you. It hurts you. It changes you. It bloom you. It haunts you. It keeps you at night wondering. It keeps you staring far off at a distance. Yet most of all I guess that's what really love is.

Giving it all yet not asking for anything in return.

I wished you have told me at the beginning that we couldn't be as close as this together, so I should have left some spaces behind me anytime that I have to step back whenever you reach that moment you realize you didn't want this feeling with me any longer.  

But sadly, it is too late. Getting attached so easily has been a trap for me, and it has got to be a long struggle walking back with a scratched part of me before I got to find that way to finally get myself out.

It's her eyes.
It's her eyes that enchants me the most.

They were as cold as the snow in winter, yet they were as warm as the heat that sweetly embraces my cheeks on summer.

Yes, it's her eyes.
It's her eyes that hurts me the most.

Don't get attached to someone so easily.
Sometimes people can't be predictable.

Like one minute they'll make you believe you're in a paradise with them and everything is in magic, and then the next minute you are already all alone, swimming at a dry lake, and everything is empty. There's a huge difference between that. And you, you
owe it to yourself to know what is the difference within the two.

It's not being dramatic over things. It's a self aid from certain people, from uncertain feelings.

I crave for all that you have been,
All the beautiful things your eyes have seen
I crave for all that you are,
All the little things that made you reach this far.
I crave for all that you will be, of who you will be.

So let me want all of this.
Let me love all of you.

"Please don't laugh at me when I say this:
I want to get out.

I want to get away, just once. Be in a place I've never been to before. Meet new faces. Play new songs with new ears listening. Begin writing some verses without ending one.

I want to get out, out of this house, this walls; this city. I want to be alone with myself for a couple of days. I want to leave some emotional tickets and let them be thrown along the way. I felt trapped, I felt stucked. These corners doesn't give me a sense of comfort anymore, they starting to **** me in.

For once, after all these years, I want to get out without thinking what would cost me and what would I will be leaving behind once I fly away.  

Just for once I want to so badly to get out.
And mostly, just for once; I want to live my life outside someone's expectations."

"I did love you." He said.

"I know." She whisper, as her eyes began to water. Having him just across a distance tells her there is no need to deny something that has been obvious since the beginning.

"But not as much as you love her."

I know won't have a place within her, and sooner or later I'll be just a face she'll lose picturing to memory, a name she'll forget to speak in her reverie.

But I remember her clearly, the every part of her that has become a part of me.

She would be my every red, yellow and green traffic light, and  yet she wouldn't know this; but with her memory in my every turn and stop,

I know I could go places.

Fame, is just a status.

Like new weave dress, every girl wants it.
Like a brooding new car, boys crave for it.
Like the lipstick girls wear, it shines.
Like the jacket guys wear, it looks good.

It surrounds her, sometimes, change the way her mind run.
It embrace her, like a black silk too tight around her that she cannot now see and remember her own skin.

But like all the colors in a painting of rainbow dripped in thick water, it will fade.

And suddenly she will see, through that mirror, with her own blinded eyes, her old self where they roots from.
And now she will see, how change had taken her into realizing that all she have now is not the person they all want her to be,

But who she actually is.

I understand her, her unsaid reasons,
her silence, her situation;

more than I could understand mine,  more than I could understand, me.

We could be.

We could be more than this.
We could be more than the
labels tells us to be
We could be more than where
the distance let us be

You could be more than
who or what you are now,
And I could be more than
the person I am today

Yet in any second we could
be less than friends
Or less than strangers.
We could be anything, we could be any less, we could be many more

But I'm not going to choose that, or anything like that.

I'm going to choose you.
Over and over again.
Because having you, above all that change; is having and being all the things, that I could possibly be.

We didn't begin with a
"once upon a time."
and we didn't end with a
"happily-ever-after."

We just met.
Not with a "hello."
And we were just eager to know.

We just met. And we just end.
Not with a "goodbye."
But with just an act of letting go.
We just end, somewhere in a moment.
We just end.

Some things are meant to end, even if they're a few steps away from happenning.

Likewise, you with me.

We could happen. We could be something.

But the reasons you are in, the reasons you wept over with at night won't let you let us be us.

And I understand that.