so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.

Magsasampung taon na kitang mahal, mahal.
(I've been in love with you for almost ten years, love)
Ang tigas na siguro ng mga binti mo kakatakbo mo sa isipan ko.
(You're thigh muscles toughened bec you always run on my mind)
Pero mas masaya sana kung alam mo, mahal, na mahal kita.
(But I could be happier, love, if you just know that i love you.)
Pero di pa, di ko pa kayang sabihin sayo, baka siguro balang araw, kapag lahat ay huli na.
(But no, i still cant tell you, maybe someday, someday when its all too late.)

I saw a man earlier,
His sun seems to be brighter.
I saw a man earlier,
His sun seems to be bitter.

As I walk past these corridors
I saw one man without any remorse.
As I walk my way home,
I saw one king giving up his throne.

I talked to the splendor of miss half moon,
She told me that everything is completely out of tune.
I conversed with the exuberance of younger new moon,
She said that this will all end soon.

The old, mighty, former king discoursed something.
It is simply about nothing, but it tackles almost everything.
I found myself in front of a thing they call mirror.
Thinking on how to escape this inevitable terror.

In a pew, I sat down and thought of my crown.
Alas! I cant flaw my frown, with few tears I saw myself drown.
Aspirations became bubbles, popped and filled with troubles.
Fantasy became fantasy along with my former reality.

I saw a man so priestly, sent by the divine entity.
"I can sense a bit of despair, my son." said the man.
"It is something irreparable." there i cried, then i ran.
The former king wandered, his thoughts ridiculously shuffled.

He was out of his mind when he found his self on a cliff.
His mind can't just overcome his lost and his acquired grief.
He renounced everything, including his belief,
Then there he jumped, half-witty, half crazy, off the infamous cliff.

If life, at last, would set me free,
I wish to hear again the ring of bells.
For they're the ones who remind me,
Of our forgotten vows and wishes to tell.

Nothing will ever compare to my little Nightingale
Neither the prettiest lady nor the sexiest female.
For she bailed me out of my miserable tale
In a sea of pure pain and agony where I usually sail.

My little Nightingale is always busy
Caring for other people’s sickness, curing for other’s misery.
Helping weak people stand, making the babies a nursery,
Reaching for the poor people’s hand, and taking out my insanity.

But my little Nightingale knows nothing about this
For she loves to work in anonymity, and a place in peace.
But my beloved Nightingale knows nothing about this
For she captured my heart, this perfectly deity-like miss.

My little Nightingale knows not one single thing.
‘Tis the feeling I feel inside, ‘tis the desire I always hide.
That I want to see her dressed in full white, marching at the center of an aisle,
With the priest commanding me, “ You may now kiss your bride!”