we all have our
endings
happy,
******,
mad
and sad.

we were given
lots of treasure
for ourselves to assure
we know what's love
from attachment

i doubt myself
with every word
from me, he heard
with every
"i love you's"
from me, he deserved

but
has it always been
me?
or, as well,
did he?

a "yes"

he's a walking
narrative
of us,
of him,
of me.

a constant,
living reminder
that love
was austere,
pure,
and no blur.

an unending
breathing story
of how she used
to love
and how he used
to love.

broken and ended
still and calm.

at first.

you looking at me
you listening to me
you liking me

everything was but a nightmare
a torment, such scourge
or plague, i tell you
or was it a dream, i think
beyond what words
can sentence
beyond what music
can note
beyond my anger,
my loathe
what distress you have
shower me
from giving me
such false, untrue hope
and i fell, seriously,
to the trap.

Saturday
someone knocked
again..
someone knocked
both were good

Sunday
i liked the first knock
i really liked it a lot
i fell deeply
it was steep
and risky

Monday
he stood tall
under the falling leaves
under those heavenly
evergreens

Tuesday
someone became sad
and i felt bad
for this someone
seems so succumbed
in a radiant sky
but full of cries
he knocked twice

Wednesday
i wrote him a poem
filled with emotions
and happy potions
it did work
but not much

Thursday
he started acting differently,
gradually and gently
he moved me
and so i did
he made me laugh
and so i did

Friday
something came to mind
i realized i was really blind
he told me, plenty of times
as the sound of wind chimes
disappeared and ended
its last notes
that it was me
and it was him.

after the twenty-2nd
day, some things
came to be.

he was reckless,
heartless,
stupid,
yet caring.

he says rumors
weren't true,
that he has no one
"but i HAD you."

he says stories
weren't necessary,
that he was innocent
and he was pure.

he says it's not
like that, nor
like "this,"
that he was in
deep solitude
and no more
them's and you's.

the rumored newest
was a friend,
so sweet and lovely,
innocent and God-sent,
light and less fluffy,
tanned and less lonely?
no, less happy,
trying and striving.

she:
i didn't want to
dark-mind.
i didn't want to
self-harm.
yet, his words
contradict
what he does.
then...

endless trades of words,
of hurts, of trusts,
of pains,
rushed through
their typically untypical
veins.

murmurs  weren't true.

"not all you see is true."

why can't everything
be innitiated?
given at free will?
said with genuinity?
and done
with no rules,
no biases,
no implied philosopies,
no more laws?
as the sun sets,
from last eleventh,
she had begun
to be in deep
slumber,
she had been
lesser frustrated,
lesser stressed.

last thing i saw
was me trying to
lure you out
from that iglo

last note i heard
were just murmurs

last words i read
were simply "dead"

not that i saw,
i heard,
nor word,
but i felt.

be that as it may
during this
winter holiday
that wraps you
with it's arms of
cold daybreaks
i try to let you
witness
how life
destroys yours
and mine.

but
it created shimmers
of hope
at least for me
and yes i see
how every piece of me
directly points
to your street
clamoring
for every piece
of thee
for every word
you say
for every breath
you take
for every love
you give
and for every one
of it
you receive.

just having me
see, hear, feel,
and love you
makes me feel
lifted
where all wishes
are simply granted
with all i wanted
which are
life, emotion, and
you, my kindred.

is this love
or a state of infatuation
that succumbs me
every time i see
a piece of thee

is this love
or a state of infatuation
that drowns me
every time i hear
thee sing

is this love
or a state of infatuation
every time a touch
from you i feel

is this love
or a state of infatuation
every time i get jealous
from seeing thee
with another

is this love
or a state of infatuation
every time i write
a poem about thee
on how you hugged my day
with your endless smiles

is this love
or a state of infatuation
that i feel at this very moment
this moment only i know
this moment that's indeed ephemeral
too quick to conclude
too sudden to say
too early to understand
that i love you
then this is limerance

my heart tells me
to send you away
to stay away
to look for another
someone, another
love
but a part of me
doesn't want to
let you go.
but,
if you're hurting,
you're sad
because of what we
had,
please do inform,
please say it,
straigh to my face
that everything is gone
and i shall move on

thus, i shall
find for another someone
another man
whom i can, again,
love, like all the guys
i've ever loved and had.

and you must become
one of them,
one of the past,
but, just bit
hurtful and doleful
for me to look back
onto

Lust.

Youth never fail to exceed my expectation. I’ve been living ever since God has made this world, the world of pure love and life.


Love and life could be made a one true pair, I think… This OTP that’s everlasting. I never had eyes like yours, lips, nose, hands, hair, feet, and teeth? None of them. But I know, I have life. I’m intangible but you can feel me, right after your mom’s gamete united with your dad’s.

I have had so many children and I’m only telling you one of the simplest. Leo Smith has been a popular kid in their school, lots of girls would be tailing him every day just to say hi or confess.

On the other side of the world, here’s the beautiful mysterious one in their school. No one seems to talk to her. She was always alone, holding the same book. She’s been seen wandering all the time.


It’s the 23rd of December, after mustering up his courage he sent a letter to her:

Hi! I'm Leo Smith from the other class, will you come to the campus library tomorrow? I just have to tell you something.

She, kind of startled, smiled.

When you are born you have talents you simply grab by your innocent hands, but I’ve held you long before you reach out to them.


I am Love. I exist, in your heart, in your mind, and in your body.

she waited
and waited
but,
something
dissipated.

twas lost.
it vanished
but they saw
such a display
of iridescent
view.

they heard
the sound
from silence
to rain

they smelled
such anonymous
petrichor
as she anchors
the news
he sought for.

he was hers
make that her,
her loving,
caring, sweet
and elite
friend of hers,
her characterless,
careless,
and melodic
tristesse.

you are cheerful,
lovely,
beautiful,
and caring

you're smile shines
sun is your sign
you're voice rings
music is your thing

you're beauty engulfs
you own world
of happiness
sadness
liveliness
and faithfulness

you're love embraces
each and every
piece of someone
his loves, pains,
perfections,
and
imperfections.

you're personality
accepts what's
indefinite, impure,
imperfect and
you insure
no tears are shed
no voices unheard
no notes unsung
no letters unwritten
no miles uncovered
and
all friends are loved.

yes, there were
ambivalence
at first.

or maybe,
there weren't
who knows?

i had to
do
what i did
just to
dissemble
yours truly,
and yes,
i was able.

although
languor
caressed my cheeks
like no one else did
my mind
and heart
was filled
with
mild
jubilation.

felicitous
thoughts
overflowed,
hal­cyon notes
and waves
refracted on the walls,
and scenic moonshine
and sun rays
draw my days like
it was them
asking me
to saunter,
and to murmur
the words
i like you,
and that is the
denouement
of our story,
so,
will you be

under such
grayish, rusty
roof,
with the howling
sound of violins,
there she witnessed
the mini, gentle
foot steps,
the ligth-weighted,
vibrant,
elegant
blush of her dress,
with pure, innocent,
angelic eyes,
dark hair,
and crowned
heir.

she was my darling,
my sweet nightingale,
my beloved strings,
seemingly unwanted,
but completely,
a wish granted
by the stars, the galaxies,
oh, my beautiful
anemony, my antonym.

under the horizon
and the boundary
of pure attachment
and of
love
there he stood.

between the moon
and sun
there he
laid.

along the busy
and crowded
hallways
there she
laughed
and popped
and dropped.

near the utmost
love and
friendship
she offers
thus,
everything prospered
everything did.

it means what it
says and she stays
behind his back,
in front of his
reflection
and his unheard voice
so dear and so unlived
yet beautifully appreciated
and loved.

i became his listener
and he's my keeper.

the sensation
of every needle
puncturing the
fair leather
was more than
pleasure.

it's the way
the threads
drip from
those complexion
down to floor,
what a beautiful
enamor.

it's not to ****
the vessel
we don't own.

it's not to hurt
the one thing
we borrowed.

it's just our
escapade
for the
darkest shade
of happiness.

we had our
ups and downs
we fell and we dropped.

we understood
we fought
we cried
we made up
we laughed
and we
loved.

yes, we did.
something's off
isn't it enough?
being honest,
yes it is.
being truthful,
what's with
this sad truth?

is it me
or is it you?
did we both change,
or it's only me?
who's trying to conceal
her facade, he can't fathom
her sorrow, he always show
and her tears and sobs,
that he can never see,
never hear.

sadly, she was right
that he wasn't
meant for her.

she gave more
than what he
deserved.

but, she got
nothing in return.

simple hellos
goodbyes
and alibi
ain't enough

simple letters
and notes
won't make him
better

simple smiles
and laughs
shouldn't even be
considered

instead,
making him feel
that she still
and will
cherish him
with her
utmost love
that's everlasting
as what they would hope
but could be ending
sooner or later
as what she and he
wouldn't prefer.

hoping that these
twin and win years
would be at their favor
filled with love
enamour
and nothing more.

words can't
sentence how
it hurt her.

music can't
stitch her broken
part.

his presence
may or may not
prolong her
agony,
despair,
and misery.

in his eyes
there live
traces of
sadness.

her actions
push him away
which her mind
can't tell.

he does want that
but she, she wants
it too.
suddenly,
something came out
of the blue.
why is he still
holding onto her?
why is he still
waiting for her?
why is he still
loving her?
she wasn't irreplaceable.

tonight was cold,
indeed.
tonight was short,
indeed.
tonight was lovely,
indeed.
tonight was lonely,
indeed.

i should have known
better
about the latter.

i should have anticipated,
not all efforts
were equally
reciprocated.

i hope tomorrow's
good and would
be little less lonely,
for you are all
i seek,
your hugs are all
i need,
you comforting words
are all
i want to hear
and let me bear
the pain of losing him,
not you but
"him."

i wish i wasn't
i wish you weren't
but.

the world
in between
smiles
hidden within

you were
like the stars
beneath the
blazing city lights,
too high, too low
too far, too close.

because you are
because i am,
we met and
beyond the crusade
of endless petrichor
there we sang
the hymn of long lost halves.

as he began
to once again,
drive her to
insanity,
she began to
crumble,
stumble,
and began to
fall.

she then saw
the shining,
sharpness
of the needle
of a newly bought
spinning wheel.

she mumbled nonsense.

he wasn't there
nor he would be.

he can't be there
nor he could.

he chose not to
nor he thought of so.

the sanity was far,
far from reach,
far from this eternity-
entitled suffering she had.

she was hurt.
nope. she was
mad.

she pressed her finger
towards that waking needle.
t'was pleasurable.
she pressed? nope,
she pushed her arms
towards the warmth
of the sharpness of
that newly bought
spinning wheel.

she dropped.

the day was nice,
she read her
usual reads,
she listened to her
usual music,
she spoke with her
usual someone.

suddenly,
she saw the yellow
sunset
gradually fading,
slowly reaching
and painting
the skies with
deep blue.

no lights,
no shines,
no glimmers
and shimmers,
no flickering eyes
that lighted her night.

there's an endless,
eternal solstice
of the unknown.

trees performing
pirouettes,
lights glowing
like stars and embers,
busy feet stumbling
upon the boredom
of pavements,
flickering lights of
airplanes filled the
deep blues of the
pool of clouds
which embraces the
tears of the heavens,
calling out for
the he she can't see.

then,
a sad, sad, sad
glance
was seen
far from a sight.

there he stood
where no one else
could.

there she loses
her ephemeral
self.

in front of the auburn
trees, swaying
with the wind.

she hung herself.
he fell to the ground.
he didn't lose her
she lost him,
once upon a march,
underneath
the wooden arch.

twas a sunday afternoon
when he went out
on a tour
just to make up for
the lost time
and leisure.

twas under that postlit
shade when i
started to pick
words under Joker's
and truth lower
than any mundane
encounters.

after crossing
those tiring stairs
i laid my body
and started to worry
after telling him
that i hate him so
after all those remarks,
so poor, said i
it took 20 minutes
for me to realize
that it was either
love or attachment.

tears did drop
though everything
was but a false claim
though everything
was still the same
and still will remain
because deep down
i know that
it is either
attachment or
love.

on that night
with winter
winds,
hums,
and miserable
breeze,
there he sat,
his eyes
wandering
from right to left
up and down
all around
corners to corners
branching
a thought
to another
a note
to a song
a word
to a poem.

him with his
glances,
stands
and built,
under that
moonlit sky
with starlights,
air filled with
warmth and
frost,
i witness his
cries,
heard his tears,
felt his fears.

i became
an overthinker
from worrying
about the other.

maybe i was wrong
or
maybe i was right
that all this time
you were all alone
alone in the corner
of your own world
of your own dome
a dome of fantasy
of reality
and of melancholy

maybe i was right
that all along
you were sad,
lonely, doleful,
sorrowful
or however you name it

you called me a hare
at the very least
i didn't care
but you were my puppy
so adorable
endearing, loving
and caring as it is.

i may not know
all your worries
no need to scurry
no need to hurry
finding, searching
and seeking
for solutions
only time can give you
only God can provide
only yourself can ignite.

I may not be so
of a close friend
of a close homie
of a close whatever
but at least, i'm a close hare
your hair?
i'll touch it no more
for now
but i hope
you'll be okay
that you'll be fine
again or not

note
friends are always there
like particles in the atmosphere
like notes that you hear
like food you prefer
like love and anger.

on a wintry,
frosty,
fulfilled night,
he said "stuff"
which left
her some
misery
and trickery.

falling for every
trap, she had
to trip,
all over again,
forgive,
all over again,
for the usual.

angry,
yes, she was?
no, she wasn't
******,
yes, she was?
yes, she was
and is.

some words
aren't meant
to be heard,
but rather
felt.

she was doleful
loathful
but then
lonely,
scared
and worried.

everything might
reach its end.

he was so near
yet
why does he feel
so distant,
very far away
from me?

tears came down
rolling
trying to reach
for his voice
but he never came.
not again.
and then there was
a

can i say something
way beyond
what you
thought
i was?

you said
"i love you"
on the 14th
holloween.

you said
"it"
countless times,
nothing rhymes,
oh dear,
it's been made clear,
we've been circling
from hi's
then hey's,
now none?

what did i do
what did i say
what did i miss
what did i?

aren't you too...
selfish?

had nothing
to say.

to be gone.

he ran away
she stumbled,
struggled,
and was baffled.

she was drowning,
not because she didn't
know how to swim,
but because the tides
were too high.

she was crying,
they didn't know
that she was,
even him.

she was dying,
they can't see
and hear
what she is
and what she has,
how she is
and how
she was.

she held out.

this is a continuation
of what took place
that frosty night
with glimmering,
shiny
phosphenes,
endless bokeh.

he was right there,
parallel from my
spot,
and we thought
of nothing
but what we are
in, right at that
moment.

as he sweep
my hair from
my cheeks
to my ears,
from my face
towards my back,
he took his hand
placed it on top
of my eyes,
cold they
were,
he then
gently,
touched my
left cheek
with his
chapped lips.

every answers
she ever
wanted.

the day was tiresome,
we had to rush stuff
and we needed to
recuperate ourselves.

the day was too short,
it was lacking some
things that were left
unsaid, unheard, and
unshared.

the day was too frigid,
our hands were shaking,
our bodies weren't entwining,
but tears came down
pouring.

the day was laughable,
smiles and chuckles
filled our sad faces.

but, still...

she was never happy
with how she ended
everything about him.

she was all
but lonely,
when she bid
her last farewell
with silence
and greetings,
with wishes
and expectations.

she hopes to see
him soon.

the walls
were white
and cold.

it's time for the
ocean sky to
gyrate its way to
crimson sunset.

she and he
were standing,
gazing at the
clueless crowd.

suddenly,
he began to
move and
touch her
velvet lips,
up & down,
all around.

there they went,
wilder than the
rush of the
screeching cars.

he asked for
her permission
for the stairs to be
less leveled,
less balanced,
surely torrid,
surely sultry.

as they went
with the
stairs not leveled,
lips but velvet
and still tangled,
necks' just clammy,
and their
way's so classy,
she lifted her
right limb
and twist it to
his left part,
she was
insensible.

the second time,
he responded
and grabbed her
right limb
towards his.

the time was too
rapid, too
swift.

he held her tight,
his hands
from her nape,
to her neck,
to her shoulders,
to her back,
down to her
waist
as she awaits
and made her chase
from the levels
of both's
wavering stairs.

everything ends
with a sweet
and light
touch of their
velvet lips.

the flower bloomed
never late,
never doomed.

the flower was
indeed,
hyacinth still,
but something
worth of
a pink carnation.