I am a stargirl,
Born of the universe.
Take me home.

Last night, you held my hand.
You talked to me about how
your life is going on right now.
You told me the days when I was
reachable to you was the happiest
days you ever had.

Am I distant now?
Did I ever leave your side?
Was I the one who disappeared
without saying why?
Am I not the one who waited
for a year for a text, a chat,
a reason to quiet my thoughts?

Anyway, you also sang to me,
it never fails to make me melt.
You really know that music
is the way to my heart.

But why is it that when you
sang my favorite song,
I felt my heart crumbling to pieces?
Maybe it's because my heart
knows it's not real, that everything
that's happening right now, everything
that has happened was just a
product of my lonely imagination.

You squeezed my hand so tight
and that's what you always do
when you are about to say goodbye
then you looked at me in the eyes
like you never want to let go.

But you did.
You did.
You did.

I only see you in my dreams,

*and maybe that's the best I will get.

He always wanted to be somewhere else,
and she just wanted to be his home.
He wanted to take flight
while she wanted to grow roots.

And all this time
they'll have you thinking they could never be.

But in the middle of it all,
the sky found sea.

He realized
anywhere in the world with her
is home,

and she realized
roots can grow wings too.

Despite of everything,
I still find myself
checking if you are alright
and maybe you can call
that pathetic or not being
able to move on
but I think there will always
be a place for lovers, even
yesterlovers that exists
in your heart and sometimes it
asks to be noticed and
you find yourself wondering
how they are and I don't know
if you get those days when you
suddenly thought of me and wonder
when we'll see again, if ever.
But if you don't, it's fine,
I mean it's not that we'll get together,
it's just that I hope your fine
and you hope I'm alright.
And I see you in pictures smiling
and my feeling is good but
at the same time not because
I am not there to see it,
but nonetheless I hope it lasts-
your happiness.
That's all I want for you.

You painted me not just on canvas
or walls but on your heart.
You gave me wings and you
are certain I will always land back
to you.

I wrote you, not just on paper
or walls but on my heart.
I gave you the power of the sun
and I know you'll shine forever.

But lately my wings can't fly
and everytime I stretch them,
all I can feel is your hands.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.

And lately, the sun hides
and everytime I look a the moon,
all I can read is
lonely.
Lonely.
Lonely.

Darling, you know we're amazing.
We create things people marvel at.

Maybe you'll paint me a picture
and maybe I'll write you a poem.
But until we finally figure out
what I mean to you and
what you mean to me,

maybe  you should keep your colors
and I should keep my words.

I see myself dancing with you
and it's funny that it's all I want.

Growing up,
my mother always
told me that I have
two left feet and nothing
is wrong with that.

My father, he would always
compliment the rigidity,
the structure my bones have.

And my cousin, we'd hold hands
and skip merrily around that tree
and copy shampoo commercials
with towels on our hair.

I don't know what it is with dancing
that I'm so in love with,
that even though I was never good
at it, I crave it and its feeling,

and I don't know what it is with you
that I'm so in love with,
that even though I rarely see you,
I will always be yours.

I was trying to ignore you,
to make you realize that
I'm still jealous you like someone new,
but you sat next to me
and you talked to me
and I can't help myself but
talk all the stress away
and despite it being night
and me nagging and complaining,
you said this is the first time
you have really seen my face
and you fell deeper.

You have no idea how much
I wanted to hold your hand,
how much I wanted that ride
to go on forever.

I looked at your eyes when
you saw me for the first time
after the longest time
and it has this sparkle
I've never seen before.

Maybe I never looked at you hard enough,
or maybe you were as surprised as I am
or maybe that's what happens
when you miss someone so much,
when you see them, a flame ignites within you.

Whatever the reason is,
I'm glad I saw you.
I'm glad you held my hand.
I'm glad we talked.
I'm glad you walked me home.
I'm glad I met you.

I hope you too.

I hope this is not the last.

I've always dreamt
of swimming as
flying in water
and I've always thought
of the sky as the ocean
and maybe in bottom
of our seas is the ceiling
of another world
and in that world,

I have wings and
I am with you.

My hands are cold but
it won't stop my fingers from
writing about us.

i.*
I don't know why
but suddenly
my heart felt like it dropped to the ground
and I don't want to pick it up.
I feel like I want it to stay there,
decompose,
become one with the earth
and let flowers bloom in the hopes of making a new life
that's far better and worthier
than the life I'd be able to live.

ii.
I want it to stay there
and make beautiful things
because I can never-
I destroy everything I touch.

iii.
It makes me want to cry
because that might mean
I'd be gone forever in your life
but little relief comes when I think
that I can say goodbye to you
one
last
time.

iv.
Don't ever think it's your fault, no.
You did nothing but showed me kindness
and gave me hope that things are worth the try.
I'm sorry if I can't keep that spark burning.

v.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for everything.

vi.
My heart is sinking
and I can't help it swim-
it doesn't want to be saved.

To tell you the truth,
I tried to turn you into a poem.
I guess I was hoping that
you'll stay,
even in paper.

To tell you the truth,
I tried to turn you into a painting.
I guess I was hoping that
you'd be able to bring back
some of my colors.

To tell you the truth,
I tried turning you into a song.
I guess I was hoping that
your voice would hush
all these thoughts in my mind.

But words are not enough,
my watercolors were all but dull,
and my piano, well, it's been
out of tune for such a long time
I don't know if it can be fixed.

I tried turning you into art
because I thought maybe you'll
be back to save me, again.

And I'm sorry for that.

You are own masterpiece,
with characters and hues and tones
I could never replace
and it's selfish of me to alter all that.

I am thankful, for you brought back
all the hope I lost in the wind,
and you are living your own life now

and it's time I do the same

And after all the chaos,
after the noise,
after painting the skies,
all that is left
is the quiet
and the dark.

Too bad our fireworks
don't last forever,
every moment too fast
to be captured.

But don't worry,
we'll try again next year.

I wanted to
write you a poem,
just like before,
when words
flow freely,
when my feelings
are just overflowing,
when everything
made sense,
and when,
even though
life is tough,
I had the strength
to keep going.

I wanted to
write you a poem
and tell you
how much
you mean to me.

But words,
they stopped
making sense,
and I am drained,
and sad,
and I don't want
to drag you
into this whirlpool
so I keep my mouth shut,
I keep my distance,
I can't even look
at you without tearing up,
without missing the
days I'm your cheerleader.

I want to
write you a poem
and tell you
I miss you
and that
I wish you may
find the person
that will make you
happy,

I know that's
not me.

There is a type of bone
in the body called sesamoid bones.
It is attached to one end on a bone
while the on top is a ligament.
Once a muscle moves,
it glides through the bone
to prevent contact between
the bone and ligament,
because once contact has been established,
there would be continuous rubbing
and friction would eventually
tear the ligament.

I am saying this because
I've been putting up walls
between you and me
and I hope you realize it's there
to protect you from me.

I will love you,
you already love me,
you will be all over me,
you will feel me,
my grooves and twists,
my every movement,
my warmth,

but I will never stop moving

and according to physics,
friction produces heat,

and
it
will
break
you.

It's silly how I
keep looking for you in the
same place I lost you

i.
I don't know what to say
to you anymore.

ii.
I am now keeping
my distance because
I fear losing you.

iii.
I never planned for
you to mean this much.
But you already are
and I don't know
what to do if you
ever disappear.

iv.
I really like talking to you though.
You always ask me what's wrong,
to speak some more, to sing,
to rant the stress away
and you have to understand
that things like these come
really rare for people like me.

v.
I don't want to let you go.
I don't want you to let go.

vi.
I still listen to the song you wrote,
your voice, it still puts me to sleep.

vii.*
I don't know what to do anymore,
and maybe that's why I'm writing.

i.* Today I went to the salon
with my friends
and we got our nails painted.

ii. I chose pink because
looked good on me.
It's my favorite.

iii. Remember when you said
you hate it and that it made
your eyes hurt then after
that, I hid every pink thing
I ever owned.

iv. I was left empty.
I felt incomplete.

v. I regretted doing that.

vi. Also today,
I passed my exam.

vii. It was a great distraction
to stop me from thinking
about it all.

The thing about being mildly allergic
to something is that you can have a taste
as long as you have your medicine and
you know you're breaking point.

Me, I have a mild allergy to alcohol,
when I drink those that has more than 5%,
I get rashes and when I drink even harder spirit,
my heart palpitates.

But that doesn't mean I don't drink.

I just got home from a party
and I cannot count how many
beer glasses,
tequila,
*****,
marguerita shots
I had
and yes, there's rashes on my thigh
and my heart beats faster than it should
but I had fun and alcohol tastes
less worse with people you consider
as family by choice.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that
I hope I have a mild allergy to you,
that I know my limits,
that I know when to stop.

Because I am willing to have a taste
and I know you're not good for me
but I was never good with stopping
what I started and I'm afraid I might
have too much of you,

you will be left empty,
like those bottles we returned to the store.