the sky paints a familiar purple
a lilac trailing in the form of clouds
its vivid reflection dancing upon your skin
and your fingertips, and mine,
and the corners of your lips.
sometimes, it's in the bruises on your knuckles
or the cold blueberries on somber evenings
the way lavenders adorn your long dark hair.
windswept yet sightly.
and your darling voice would lull me to sleep
and send my soul alight.
but time and again,
its the middle ground for the head and the heart
the brief moment between sunset and evenings
the mauve that says i love you without need for words.
assurance and certainty placed among the berried table
the courage to wade in it's deepest depths.
avert your gaze skyward and see
even the vibrant heavens can be
a place where you can lay your soul to rest.
getting drunk on the moon.
a brand new thrill to argue.
presently, i've simply gone cold –
sneakers turned green at the soles.
and we'll sing of ancient legends
and we'll have the world take it's guess
my head rests on your conspiracy;
words are troublesome.
let your actions do the rest.
kumakaripas ang takbo ng hangin.
lumaho na ang kisap ng mga bituin.
marahil ganito talaga kapag sabik na sabik and damdamin -
kaluluwa ay tataas ngunit unti-unting bababa rin.
neither nightmare nor a dream
stained in mauve are the back of my eyelids
hued with olives floral fadings be
i wash my crime off, one spatter at a time
and erase any false pretenses.
oh how i long for a canvas that's mine
a pulse to be uphold with nails of luster
to an empty museum dark and forlorn
smile. flash. take heed. don't ask for more.
preserve the art forever.
“love isn’t easy” they say;
but it seems to go smoothly when you’re falling
free and unharnessed,
into pools of love
where smiles naturally find its way
and everything feels right —
until gravity shifts and tides change
and trust is lost and the pain remains
realizing your hands and chest are empty,
when there’s nothing left but that sinking feeling
that never leaves.
and they were right.
Love is nothing like what is shown on-screen;
Bouquets lavish, flowers never-dying
Every conflict resolved as if foreseen
Hearts so warm, characters end up singing.
The love that's beyond cameras and lights
Is love embellished with imperfections -
Behind their flowery, script-induced lines
Lies no such true feelings and emotions;
Though love may not be sunny days in June
But the darkness in the sky at winter,
Having real intent behind "I love you"s
Are lines more worthy to be delivered.
Love is nothing like what is shown on-screen;
But more deserving of happy endings.
i feel the surface of my lips go dry
the lips that used to call you so much
& i look for you in my dream unknowingly
& i still call out your name as i slumber -
maybe it's become a habit instead
i live, everyday, unable to erase it
the sound of your name i want to forget
but think it’s a lie that i want to forget you.
svt al1 track2
how fascinating it is
to read about things that exist
within the vastness of the universe,
where though one looks up to the highest skies,
they cannot be seen by the naked eye;
where its existence would only be known to man
through its discernible temperatures,
unimaginably scorching —
& how dismaying it is
to look down with eyes, unbearably naked
at where the spaces in between our fingers are filled by one another,
where the existence of two clasped hands
is discernible to any man with sight;
but unlike the entities in the galaxies,
there is no warmth at all within.
how amusing it is
to compare us, insignificant beings
to greater things lying within the universe,
to rethink the clear difference
between what is visible, and what can be felt;
a reminder that what once was scorching
could die out in a blink of an eye.
and the world would continue to turn on its axis as if nothing happened.
(how utterly disheartening it is, indeed
to slowly step back and realize
what truly exists, and what only existed
at the speed of light.)
only the feeble-minded
refuses to regard time
only with ear ringing, heart pounding
will you realize
its already too late.
my diffuser, oh how shortlived our love be ·
a white, silent wolf weeping
at plane's betrayal.
fingertips on mine
tell me that you'll wait for me
dawn breaks; the day comes.
it's all the matter of:
waiting for the calm
despite having the storm
just pass by;
having a mind crippled with
"i don't even
want to try."
my hands remain shaky,
my body remains tired.
my soul remains weary,
but so far,
they have always been
and always will be.
the morning doth bring laughter,
the sunset a sign of dawning anxiety.
it is loud with every chirp,
it is eerie with distant silence,
it speaks words on top of words,
it is all the layers of tame violence.
(i want to believe there is someone.
i want to believe there is laughter filling the room.
i want to feel the warmth again,
i want to see the sun rise again soon.)
i have a memory so distant
where i put pieces of me unto your palms
& whatever you do with them
i still trust
remembering your faithfulness
fixing what couldn't be fixed
until i am fully mended
it is still distant—i look back on it
as if there's fog in the way;
& when i shatter once more
you put me back together
even when i don't ask.
you do it every time.
and the fog has been lifted
& from the distant memory i recall
you have always been keeping my pieces intact
your love is the strongest adhesive;
i survive every fall.
talk to me in the form of glances
coffee held in one hand
until we finally muster the courage
to intertwine the other
it's easy to tell the difference
between wrong and right
it's easy to tell how much it contrasts;
deciphering black from white.
yet often does the shade
make everything look gray,
shadows cast may trick your eyes,
even the strongest tinge can fade.
they're a long mile apart -
a fire and a golden cup;
the fire is bound to grow
and could be put out with a puff;
yet if you let yourself be fooled
nevermind the salient rut;
it is in a ditch of eternal regret
in which you are bound to end up.
i asked for showers of rain;
one thats possibly enough
to keep the humidity away
and let the plants grow
and calm my ears with its sound
and call rainbows over
and fuel my poetry.
along with these great things,
the darkness would consume me,
the cold would freeze my bones,
lightning would scare me,
thunder would make me cry.
but it was enough.
it would always be enough for me.
a tangled mess is
what most would call it,
wrapped in a series
of unblossoming madness.
i was blinded by the fact
that i'm letting these roots grow
that i've forgotten to **** out
the thorns of all my sorrow.
her fingers tap on the wooden table
her, with thunder across her face
emotions caught in dire
eyebrows etched together
impatience. every glum beat of her heart
translate into her fingertips.
i feel sorry. tightness wraps around
my neck. eyes search for answers.
there were none in plain sight.
tap. tap. tap.
then she left without a word.
my bones are tired
all energy stripped away.
my love, you're my rest.
i like to gaze upon the night sky
with heart in my hands,
& question the universe
as to why it has placed us
many galaxies apart.
yet, the lights from above me,
once static and motionless;
they glow into a flurry.
they explode into utter magnificence.
though it was a delightful sight,
it was a loss for milky way.
it had never been the same.
by then, i am reminded that
planets keep their distance, too.
we were bound for collision;
and if we aimed to unite as one—
all that's to be expected
is inevitable nothingness.
this distance is good,
i suppose now that it is true.
the universe wouldn't want
two less lovely planets.
what if my fate lies
on a silver surface?
my plans and doubts
all thrown into a furnace.
be still and figure out
what your heart yearns for
flip the silver coin,
then flip it once more.
(he said, 'what better way to make important life decisions.')
i constantly find myself stuck—
as both in an never-ending loop,
a maze with no destination,
and boxed in a cramped up room.
yet, all i needed was to lift my voice
to call out for your name—
and you never failed me;
you would come running to open my windows
and allow me to respire
with no such hesitation.
inside this box of solitude
that i have enclosed myself within—
you are a breath of fresh air
on which i can depend
whenever i am in dire need of oxygen.
you came to my life at the perfect time —
amidst the breaking of the deepest dawn;
where the moon is at it's peak
whispering dreary tunes
to me, whose heart is aching
at the time where the clouds from above my head
are daunting, heavy and of gray,
refusing to let a single ray of sunshine in
refusing to share its warmth.
amidst the deepest dawn
and the howling of the moon
melancholia would envelop me
dark clouds would be of gloom
it is unexpected, you see,
how you came to be
what could pull me out
of the smothering mist of dawn;
& into the morning you brought me,
mended my aches, and
shared all of your warmth
while the moon it howled
it's dreary tunes
you sang words of honey into my other ear;
the dark clouds that hover lowly, still
disappear upon your presence.
like the way clouds part
in a january afternoon,
you let the sunshine in at the perfect time—
my love, you helped me grow once more;
my dawns now turn to daytime.
you seem like a complete stranger
when i find you at your most vulnerable
it's like i'm looking through eyes
dark, vast, unending,
that everything that's far behind your eyelids
seems so distant
when you're at your worst
and i'm struggling to find
the sense of familiarity;
my footsteps become cautious
every movement becomes uneasy
i would hold you with shaking hands
but i wouldn't mind
i would be here
and keep you close
and tell you to breathe
and offer myself to be your anchor
feel my heart against yours,
for even the stars themselves collapse sometimes.
i will always know you
as the boy from across my seat
with hands like fire
a touch so electrifying
rekindling every spark
that as died within me
it has always been you
with a smile so beaming
one that could chase away
clouds of misery
with broadest shoulders
on which my agony is carried
yet out of all the things
i always knew you for
it is your constant presence
that never seemed to remain
though your sunshine
would break away the rain,
it was always fleeting.
it was always in vain.
this feeling of subtle doubt
has resided with me now
has it always been you
or have i always been me
who wanted to keep to myself
the flames within your palms.
army green sweater
skin as frisky as leather
is there a feeling any better
than touching our thighs together?
friction and depicting
confusion from intrusion
i heard you write about me,
is that quite an assumption?
in moments gazes would meet;
masks of ice, to your eyes would shield —
is it to keep you from the seething heat
from the pits of my psyche?
with your coffee left too long in the open,
all you held was your soul and a pen.
struggling to find words to describe your sentiment
of feelings discerned with eyes so sunken.
(circa 2017, for an old friend)
to think there was a time
flowers would bloom from where i walked
adorning trails towards my destination
marks of grace to which eyes would follow
petals continue to grow, unperturbed —
now, my footsteps just abide
within the corner of their keen eyes,
though blossoms i hastily step on
i continue each defiant stride,
weary knees begging to arrive home
enduring a journey from the path so tedious
i no longer leave traces behind
on asphalt, dismal and porous.
i'd rather fuel the fantasy of having you close
than having to deal with the smoke when you leave
you, existing to set my heart ablaze;
me, trying to put out the fire
by standing under the rain.
you have become
an essential part of my body
the part that's flowing with endless
mishap and poetry
the kind that keeps me awake
keeps my nerves on every edge
and my heart beating
way out of time
the kind that i need a dose of
every single morning
enough so that
the bitterness in me
is tamed down
by your love and cups of milk.
it completes me,
it courses through my veins
and i'm afraid that i might need you
too much that it's unhealthy.
like wallflowers growing peacefully,
with asthenic transparency
i perceive everything with eyes so weary
yet pick up the little things even angels cannot see.
leaping from star to star,
yet never knowing where to land,
traveling to places unfamiliar
casting shadows on every space at hand.
i can't help but wonder how it would feel to exist
with a presence that would linger,
one whose souls would reminisce,
where my voice would echo;
not as a croak of sullen desperation
but a sound that would cut through
the haze of hopelessness.
i would begin to think about the probability
of my misguided existence,
invisible, but sees everything;
no flesh and bone, but is hurting.
i yearn for destruction
upon the social construct that states
that love is always associated
with flowers and sunny days.
love has barely brought about
bright colors and clear skies-
all it's left me is a chaotic head
and an ear that's deaf to lies.
it is of blood red and unexpected,
in an ocean of sorrow and abhorrence
it is an illusion of improbability
in a world of utter blandness
trusting the waves to carry you out
despite being wounded in every way,
never knowing that the sharks themselves
were the ones who once promised to stay.
i think it’s best, when the sharks come by,
to just keep a supply of recollections
and a bottle of water for when the tears dry
when i swim right back to shore.
‘it’s always nighttime in prison’
they tied their feet together;
every vowel lives on
until the morning sun hithers
pages thrown to sea,
the deep blue churns recklessly
their hearts are the coldest stones
they have thrown right at me.
he would carry on his back
a piece of the burning sun
and after the ink runs out
would he escape and run
his brothers will never wait
inscriptions he made will eventually fade
horror rots upon the walls of his brain
but poetry will keep him sane.
you're the certain type of blossom
that needs no such weeding out;
even sunrises and sunsets are enthralled
to make their way into your mouth.
while there's me who doesn't hold anchors
but keeps sinking deeper into the ground;
me who lights torches into flames
only to eventually blow them out.
i figured it takes a strong heart and soul
to look forward to rainbows during a downpour,
to see the stars through the thickest brume
and to endure life like it's just an adventure.
but i simply cannot see the world as perfectly as you
because rose-colored boy, no matter what i do,
we just can't all be like you.
midnight whisperings say
'i'll take care of you'
yet morning words declare
'i don't need you'.
you hold me so gently
like a new set of china—
yet pour inside me
hot, scalding, tea.
in those symphonies lost to old memories
memories tinted the sheets red
of anger, of hatred
of love that has faded
a telling sign of regret
the bridge builds up
every step and half note gets hefty.
follow it down to a hole of separation.
bid your symphonies goodbye
even in the darkest pit - you can’t hide
the memories are to be let go,
as the refrain comes
will the sound fade out to cry;
the sorrowful moment weighs down
the sweetest part of a lullaby.
the weather confuses me
as so do you.
the way it's clear one moment
then clouded the next;
how uncertainty is thicker
than that of the brume.
constant rays of sunshine show up
from the irises of your eyes—
still, i stand my ground,
as slight drizzle falls
from the fogged up skies.
hesitating to pour everything out.
— The End —