it’s the silence.

           the quiet.

the stillness of the atmosphere.
the silent buzzing,
ringing sound in your ears.

           it’s              

           everything in
           nothingness
           that screams:

the whispers of your past,

the calmness of now,

the mystery of your
future.

           listen.

listen to the quiet as it scream words

your ears cannot hear,

           but your heart
           and mind could
           feel.

i stopped writing.

not because i don’t want to.

it’s because i couldn’t.

i couldn’t bear the fact that i would have to feel pain and sadness all over again to write something only a few people would understand.

i couldn’t find the exact words. the right sentence. the perfect way to say the emotion i want to show, ending up saying more than the thought itself.

i couldn’t face an empty screen with the line continuously blinking as if begging me to release the letters out of it — teasing it constantly knowing i would just stare at it and close my phone afterwards.

i couldn’t find the right moment to write. and when i thought it was, i just end up thinking about all my “i couldn’t”s never finishing anything i write.

it’s so easy to say, “just write. it’ll come to you soon enough” but little do those people know it’s as hard as it gets.

one day, i write something amazing. amazing to me at least. and the next day, you don’t write anything at all — scared to create a new one that’ll forget the existence of the previous one.

i stopped writing.

but i keep imagining.

writing on my head but never putting them into words. locking them up as safe as possible inside my head where only i could reach. only i could appreciate. only i could admire.

i keep them.

and if one day,

if i get the strength to stop saying “i couldn’t”

i know it’ll all make sense.

but for now,

i’ll have to stop writing.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry that i have to always leave this hole in my heart empty.

i’m sorry that i have to, everyday, make sure this hole has nothing in it

—afraid to fill something else in:

something else that might not fit the same way you did before.

i’m sorry for the sound it makes:

how it creates screams that resonates up until the very tip of my fingers,

how the void echoes deep constant hums that imitates the way my heart beats,

how it just beckons me to fill it in, knowing it’ll just turn that something to nothing.

i’m sorry for ever feeling this way again.

i’m sorry for telling myself i’ve filled it already when it’s obvious

i didn’t.

it’s still the same hole — in fact, it’s bigger than ever.

maybe

day by day it gets larger, i don’t know.

but it just feels like it’s eating away what’s left of my heart.

i’m sorry.

i know i’m not supposed to feel this

but i already am.

nothing like
cigarettes
and skin care
in the morning

a conversation.

you ever wonder
how your
demons
— the ones
you see
clear
as day —
look back at you?

a blur.

the glass of water
i’ve filled for months
with the slight touch of your finger,
it poured over.

thankfully,
i’ve grown enough
to easily fill up a pitcher.

i wish
i could forget
your zodiac sign
so i wouldn’t have
to read yours
after i read mine.

i don’t think
it’s possible
to unlove you

— and i don’t have any complaints.

i’ll just love myself more
until i forget
what it means to
not have someone around

and focus on having
myself around — present at all times.

i’m writing
a eulogy.
no,
it’s not
for someone close to me
who died recently,
it’s
for someone who loved me dearly
whose love died
when i presented my demons
and couldn’t take them individually.

our love is poetry:

a series of rhymes
of words with identical ending
having different beginnings.

an assonance
of words totally unrelated
but were fit together as intended.

a consonance
of words that invites a trance
as if urging me to dance.

an alliteration
of words i hear that ignites a flame
but soft and as warm as fleece.

i’ve always wondered
why it was so easy
for you to move on.

then i remembered,

when i was
moving out
of your heart,
lifting box after box
of clothes i own,
of items i bought,
outside your porch,
trying to take
everything i had left
— making sure i leave as little to no trace of me,

you were already
letting someone else in.

as i was cleaning out the pictures of us,
you were already replacing the frames with new ones.

as i was removing the covers of the bed, the sheets, the pillows,
you had a whole new set ready,
just waiting for me to leave.

as i was waiting for the cab to
pull through your driveway,
you were already expecting someone
coming your way.

and that’s how i knew.

if i wrote
a book,
the dedication
would be
like this:

“to everyone
who broke my heart,
who helped me
put it back together:
gave me
all types of
adhesives,
and
to those who
watched and cheered
as i build it back.”

i hope
that when the time comes,
the pieces of
your heart
that were
taken away
from you:

some you gave away
willingly,

but mostly were stolen
and you realizing it was
gone too late,

come back to you in another form.

another face,
another smile,
another embrace,
another set of hands to
hold again,

i hope it does come back to you

— replace what’s been taken

as if it was never broken in the first place.

i envy
the mirror
for always being
the first
and last
to see all of you;

how mesmerizing your smile is,
how dreamy your eyes are,
how the curves of your body
create slopes not even
the most beautiful mountains
could compare,

i wish i could see it all.

but unlike the mirror,

you can hear the words coming out of my mouth,
you can feel my embrace as i caress your skin
as if it were a vintage vase,
i could say something funny and then your smile will just effortlessly come out.

now,

the mirror should envy me;

for i could
see,
touch,
and feel,
the beauty
that is you.

i’ve tangled with a lot of bodies
after we ended.

i’ve knotted myself with different hearts
pretentiously knowing that this pain i’ve felt could be mended.

i’ve scrambled those ties in my hands and how easy it was for me to un-knot them.

one knot comes in, after a few days, weeks, or sometimes but not often, months, slowly it detangles itself and i leave untangled, unbroken, as if nothing went past these lines on my heart, my body, my lips, like it didn’t happen at all.

i thought those messy tangles i put myself into would be as hard as when we had to untangle ourselves — or just me, i guess — from the oh so short but very sweet time we’ve had together.

but, i was wrong.

i wasn’t left untangled,
i wasn’t unbroken.

i still had a little not, tied in between my heart, body, and lips, which i try so hard not to notice by putting myself out there, messing my own lines up till i catch someone who ends up letting go afterwards.

to you,

we’ve already part ways,

to me,

you barely left.

i wish you could untangle this knot you left.
i wish you could mess with mine again, and probably leave a bigger knot — so obvious that i’d give up trying to fix it.
i wish to see how your soft hands would carefully untie, over then under then pull and stretch, this knot and maybe i could finally figure out that it was so easy that i didn’t even need your help.

but you’re gone.

and i have to accept that.

it’ll take time before this untangles by itself so i’ll just let it be for awhile.

and when someone does come not only to tie their heart with mine,
but also untangle what you had left behind,
then i’ll be fine,
and know that now’s my time.

i loved to paint using your colour.

i’d go day and night, from one canvas to another, using different shades of you to paint all kinds of pictures.

i never lost any ideas.
i never had to find inspiration.
it all just comes to me whenever i look at you.

one day, i woke up colour blind. and unfortunately, it’s in your colour.

all the paintings, all the sketches, all the canvasses that were of your colour, plastered, hanged, and taped all over my walls doesn’t make sense anymore.

it was all grey. all dull. a colour i know existed but never really tried using before.

i tried searching for your colours in the things you’ve touched. the words you’ve said. i searched everywhere but whenever i do think your colour will come back, my eyes revert to reality.

now you’re just a memory.

your colour will only exist inside my mind.

those shades i loved. the pigments i crave to achieve every time i stroke my brush. it’s all in my head now.

it’s been years now. your colour isn’t as bright as i thought my memory would remind me of.

i paint with a different colour now.

actually, i paint with all the colours now except yours.

all those nights i spent painting, it’s with every colour i come across but yours.

now my wall’s full of colour again. all from different parts of me. colours i never knew existed.

now,

i’m happy. i’m content.

i’m colourful.

if it meant
i had to write forever
to get to your heart,
then prepare
for the small notes
i’ll pass to you every time i see you smile,
for the little songs
i’ll sing every time you sway your hips and move your soft hands to its beat,
for the poetries, oh god,
for the poetries i’ll continue to write
as if i’m writing a book only your eyes are worth to see,

if i had to write forever
to get to your heart,
then all will be worth it
for i’ll never fall apart.

Minsan mapapaisip ka na lang
kung ikaw ba ay nagkulang
o siya yung di lumaban.

Mapapaisip ka na lang
kung tama bang ikaw ang nahihirapan,
patuloy na lumalaban,
gulo’y subok na iniwasan,
upang di lang siya masaktan.

Mapapaisip ka na lang
kung kaya ka ba iniwan
kasi kahit gaano mo ipaglaban
— na lahat ng problema niya ikaw na pumapasan
umuuwi ka paring luhaan.

Tama ba na tratuhin ka ng ganito?
na parang laruan na pag sawa na sa iba,
ikaw naman ang gusto?

Tama ba na maramdaman mo
ang sakit na nasa iyong puso
kasi pinili mo siya
kahit alam ng utak mo
na di siya nakakatulong sayo?

Tama ba na sa dinami dami ng taong
araw araw na kumakausap sa’yo,
dito ka pa nahulog
sa taong di ka naman isasalo?

Ang dami kong sinasabi sa ibang tao
na maraming gago sa mundo
na di dapat sila papaloko.
Pero sa dulo din pala,
ako yung magmamahal ng tulad mo.

Pasalamat ka,
ako na yung nagparaya
siguro kasi di ko na rin kaya
lalo na’t nakita kitang may kasamang iba.

Tinago mo pa,
sinabi **** kaibigan mo lang siya
ngunit ang totoo pala,
pag di tayo magkasama
tumatakbo ka pabalik sa kanya.

Di na rin siguro ako magtataka
kung bakit mas pinili mo siya
baka dahil ang puso nyo’y nagtugma
o mas magaling lang siya sa kama.

Bakit nga ba ako nagpakatanga?
Nadaan mo nga lang ba ako sa iyong matatamis na salita,
mga pangakong di ko alam kung matutupad ba
o sadyang uhaw lang ako sa pagmamahal
kaya nung nakita mo ako’t nagpapakahangal
nasabi **** “pwede na ‘to, di rin naman ako tatagal.”  

Sinabi ng mga magulang ko
na lahat ng tao pinanganak ng may puso
na kailangan mo lang intindihin at mahalin
dahil sa dulo, pagmamahal niya’y iyong aanihin.

Pero akalain mo yun,
may mga tao palang tulad mo
na di mo alam kung wala ba siyang puso
o ipinaglihi sa demonyo.

Nakakatawa ka,
na lahat ng dugo, pawis, pati narin oras
sayo ko lahat nawaldas
buti sana kung nababalik mo ’to
pero wala, ginawa mo akong uto uto.

Isa kang patunay
na may mga taong
na kahit lahat ng pagmamahal sayo ay ibigay
nag hahanap ka parin sa iba
ng wala kang kamalay malay.

Ngayon,
tapos na ako.
Di ko kailangan ang isang tulad mo.

Sa lahat ng gago sa mundo,
ikaw pa ang pinili ko,
ikaw pa ang minahal ko,
ikaw pa ang pinagubusan ko ng oras ng ganito,
ikaw pa ang sumira sa’king utak at puso.

Pero salamat din sa’yo
dahil kung hindi sa pang-gagago mo
hindi ko mapapansin na ang pagmamahal di ko lang makukuha sa’yo
hindi ko mapapansin na marami rin palang masasama sa mundo
na ang gusto lamang ay makitang mawasak ang sarili ko.

Andami kong natutunan
di lang tungkol sa mga tulad mo
kundi pati na rin sa sarili ko:
na kaya ko palang magmahal ng ganito
na kaya ko palang lumaban ng husto
na kaya ko palang ibigay ang lahat pati narin aking puso.

Ngayong,
mag isa na ulit ako,
mas masaya na ako.

Kaya sa susunod na darating sa buhay ko,
tandaan mo
nagmahal ako ng gago
kaya ayusin mo ang buhay mo
kung ayaw **** sulatan kita ng ganito.

‪you broke my heart‬
‪multiple times ‬
‪it turned to dust;‬
‪to ashes.‬

‪i scatter them‬
‪unto the sea‬
‪which i formed ‬
‪using my tears‬

‪slowly adding‬
‪more sand‬
‪to the shore.‬

dear you,

how are you? i hope things are doing great for you now. these past few weeks have been a mess i thought i could handle on my own.

i’m doing okay. i’m going out with my friends, been talking more often with my family — like you said i should, and i’m learning about myself more and more each day.

i’ve been trying to move on from you, you know? it’s really hard. probably because everything was still fresh. so far, everyday, i think about you, what you did, what we did, how it started and how it ended.

i’ve been asking myself lately, could i have saved what we had left? was i just an escape? i have so many questions now that you’re gone and i have no means to talk to you.

i’m confused, really. i still want you but every time i remember the good times we had, i remember the pain too. don’t worry though, i have already forgiven you. it’s just a matter of time before i finally forgive myself — for blaming myself with what had happened.

i’ve been watching a lot of shows lately. i avoid the sad ones, but whenever a scene comes where one inevitably cries, i cry too and then all of a sudden, the longing comes back and then i get sad again.

it’s been a tough week for me. but i know i’m going to pull through this. i keep saying that i won’t wait for you but i guess that’s just my brain talking trying to cancel out what my heart wants.

i know we’re better of this way. i know this isn’t a fairytale where suddenly, after i have cried for a long time, the tears will form a wave strong enough to send you back to me.

i know i’m better on my own. i really do. but i miss being with you more.

i do hope i get to move on from you. maybe it’ll take a year? or even more? but i know soon enough i will.

i just hope that when you do come back, you don’t find me anymore. that you already have someone you call your own. that you’ll realize the love we had was superficial or perhaps temporary.

because if you do find me, no matter how much i’ve moved on from this, i’ll probably go back to your arms and cry because i really missed you.

i still regret giving my heart to you. i regret ever falling in love with your eyes, your smile, your hands. i regret ever opening up because i really thought we could have the love we’ve always wanted ever since.

i guess i’ll be alone for awhile. i guess i’ll love another person and know more about love. i guess i’ll just slowly bring myself up and be happy on my own.

i wish you’d come back. i wish love will still be there to bring us back together.

but for now, i wish love would find another means to make me happy without you.

i hope to see you soon. because i know by then, we’ll both have a lot of things to talk about. a lot of stories to tell, jokes to laugh at and other stuff.

i wish you well.

for a long time
ive been telling
myself
to smile
no matter how hard life is.

and for the first time,
in a long time,
i smiled
— without telling myself to.

i stopped hoping things will be okay.

i stopped looking at the clouds wondering what could have happened if things didn’t happen this way.

i stopped reading words that tell me life is a cold hard ***** and it was teaching me that i shouldn’t go astray.

i stopped listening to the sound of rain, crying every time i feel my sadness should go away.

i stopped listening to people that begged me to look the other way, forget, and just be happy, be gay.

i stopped learning what it means if i had the choice to stay.

i stopped letting my demons cloud my mind — at least i have the strength to keep them at bay.

i stopped hoping things will be okay.

and it’s okay,

because i realized, all that had happened will come to pass and all these things will be gone one day.

so, from now on, instead of hoping,
i’ll work hard everyday

to make myself happy.
it’s my choice, be it as it may.

im starting to realize
that love wears a different mask
every time it comes into our lives
teaching us a lesson
and then leaves
— and im okay with that.

but sometimes,
in the most rarest occasion,
love decides to wear the same mask
this time, not to leave
but to stay
— and you'll welcome
love with open arms.

you came here
unto my battle field
planting flowers
that resemble
your promises,
your kisses,
your hugs
— your love.

you filled the ground
with lots of different kinds:
each representing
your love for me
and it was beautiful.

as we lay on the bed
of flowers
you planted,
i sighed
and remembered
the battles that took place in this
ground of mine.

even though
the ground’s already dead,
you did your best
to plant each and every one of
those flowers with care anyway.

“it’ll die anyway, so why bother?”
i said softly, holding your hand.

you smiled and said,
“but it looks gorgeous right?
let’s savor this moment still.”

i’m
sad
and you know
what makes me mad?

is when i feel
that my sadness
isn’t valid—

that my feelings aren’t
important.

if i get the chance
to write a letter to say goodbye,
i’ll probably leave it blank
— don’t ask me why.

if i get the chance
to collect all our pictures
and put it in a collage,
i’ll probably not do it all
— again, don’t ask me why.

if i get the chance
to see you one last time:
hold you again and kiss you goodbye,
i’ll probably take it
but turn around at the last second
with my head down as i cry.

don’t ask me why.

don’t ask me why
i’ll waste all these chances
to say farewell,
because our love ended
and it didn’t end well.

don’t ask me why
i’ll give in to my sadness
when we could’ve had saved this
because
even if i tried to give my best
it’ll just end up the same;
a big old mess.

don’t ask me why
i’d rather leave than stay,
why i choose to walk away,
because all i’ll probably say is:
we tried
but love ran away.