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Behind a smile no eyes can trace,
Lurks a question lost in time and space.
Like wind that taps on walls unseen,
It whispers truths in shades between.

Beneath the clock that will not cease,
A silent ache begins to crease.
Not quite a scream, but more a sigh,
Like candles dimming as dreams die.

Its letter holds no ink nor name,
Just scars that time forgot to tame.
"When I arrive," it softly said,
"I’m just the quiet beneath your dread."

It bears no wrath, it seeks no cheer,
Just shadows where you hide your fear.
Like rain that falls in sleeping minds—
Cold... but real when morning finds.

Its message? Not the end, but this:
A warning clothed in emptiness.
That at the end of all your why,
There waits a truth that doesn’t lie.
Bakit nga ba tawag ay Vietnamese coffee?
Sa tasa’y may pait na ‘di basta mawawagi.
Bagal ng patak mula sa itim na bituka,
Parang kwento ng bansang sinubukang burahin ng alaala.

Sa bawat drip, may bigat ang daloy,
Na para bang sugat na ayaw sumaboy.
May gatas na puti sa ilalim ng tasa,
Kislap ng pag-asa sa gitna ng giyera't pasa.

Hindi siya brewed para lang gisingin,
Kundi upang tanungin: saan ka ba nanggaling?
May kasaysayang pilit pinupuno ng asukal,
Pero ang pait ay laging babalik sa hulihan.

Kaya’t kapag tinanong mo: “Why is it called Vietnamese coffee?”
Sagot ay lihim, nasa loob ng tinik na hearty.
Ito’y kwento ng bayang binuhusan ng dilim,
Pero sa bawat tasa, may tapang na tahimik lang umiinom sa hangin.
I held my breath in halls of smoke,
Where silence spoke the words I choke.
A flicker flared beneath my skin—
A serpent coiled, a scream within.

No thunder cracked, no heavens cried,
Just steady sparks I brushed aside.
The mirror smiled with lips of glass,
And let the crimson moments pass.

By then, the flame had found its name,
But all the ash looked just the same.
I reached for peace with ember hands,
Unknowing of the blood that stands.

The thing with wrath—it wears no face,
Just empty rooms and hollow grace.
You’ll count your scars in shades of red,
Long after all the words are dead.
In shadowed vaults where silence creeps,
The world beneath its axis sleeps.
A trembling thread, both tight and thin,
Keeps storm without and peace within.

The gales of madness roar and spin,
With howling mouths and silver grin.
They claw at minds, they kiss the flame,
And call the stars by broken name.

Yet Balance walks with quiet grace,
A veiled ghost in no fixed place.
One foot in dark, one hand in light,
She dances slow through wrong and right.

The storm may scream, the chaos bite,
But Balance blinds the blaze of night.
Her whispers tilt the spinning spheres,
And lull the heart of hollow fears.

So mark the wind, and mark it well—
What stirs the soul may also quell.
For in the space where tempests reign,
She weaves the calm between the strain.
Whispers tread where clocks don’t chime,
A hush draped over thoughts of time.
It sips from the stream, unseen, unfelt,
Where yesterdays quietly melt.

No lock, no key, yet doors unhinge,
A breath, a blink — then comes the tinge.
Of something lost not known when missed,
A ghost of now, by shadows kissed.

Its fingers wear no weight or ring,
Yet pluck the thread from everything.
And we, unknowing, pay the fee,
For time collects in secrecy.
Sa mesa ng Dunkin, tasa’y malamig,
Kape sa papel, lasang panaginip.
May marka ng labi sa gilid ng tasa,
Parang halik na naiwang walang paalam na sinta.

Nagkakape ako, pero di para gisingin,
Kundi para damhin ang mga hindi ko maamin.
Sa bawat higop, may lihim na usapan,
Na para bang multo ng nakaraan ang ka-table ko minsan.

May donut sa plato, butas sa gitna,
Tulad ng puso kong may kulang at sira.
Sugar glaze na pilit nagpapasaya,
Pero ang tamis, panandaliang pantasya.

Ang pader ng café ay puno ng ingay,
Pero sa loob ko'y katahimikan ang tunay.
Nagbabasa sila ng menu, ako ng alaala,
At sa likod ng aroma, may sakit na kumakawala.

‘Pag naubos ang kape, saka mo mapapansin,
Na minsan pala, ang Dunkin ay libing.
Hindi ng tao, kundi ng damdamin—
Na matagal nang nilimot pero ayaw pa ring limutin.
Sa sulok ng Starbucks, naupo ako mag-isa,
Tasa’y may pangalan—pero di ko kilala.
Mocha sa loob, mainit na itim,
Parang damdaming pinilit kong takpan sa dilim.

May pangalan sa cup, sulat kamay ng crew,
Pero ang tanong: “Alin ba sa’kin ang totoo sa view?”
Grande ang size, pero hungkag sa laman,
Tulad ng puso kong pagod na magmahal nang lubusan.

Naghalong caffeine at hiningang mabigat,
Bawat lagok, may tanong na di ko mailapat.
Bakit tila lahat ng mabango ay may kirot?
At ang tamis sa dulo, parang huling halik bago lubos na pagkalagot?

May wi-fi at jazz, pero ang isip ko’y lagalag,
Habang ang sugat sa loob, dahan-dahang bumibiyak.
Barista’y ngumiti, sabi’y “enjoy your brew,”
Di niya alam, ito ang huling tasa bago ako maglaho sa view.

Lahat busy sa MacBook, ako busy sa multo,
Mga alaala **** ininom ko ng buo.
At sa dulo ng cup, may mensaheng nakasulat:
"Some stories begin with coffee..."
...pero ‘yung sa’tin, doon natapos ang lahat.
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