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Aisrah Misch Mar 2017
We've been in several sleeping places.
Hotel rooms, apartelles, condotels,
cheap, dilapidated motels.
Would often wonder
who were the last occupants before we came.
Were they a couple?
A paid ******* and her customer?
(or maybe it's the other pronoun)
Two friends, lonely
and sexually craving for a warm body,
any familiar body?
(at the risk of being strangers the morning after)

Some rooms we've been in reeked
of loneliness and secrecy.
Some had crisp, clean sheets,
all traces of body fluids
laundered and bleached.
Ready to absorb our own.

I look at the walls.
Plastered white.
Crumbling green.
Peeling beige.

How many moans of pleasure
(faked or authentic) tried to seep into them
against the solid cement  towards another room?
Were they all moans, those sounds?
What if some were howling,
of force, of "first-time" pains,
of lost virginities?

The creaking of bed posts is the musical score of a three-hour narrative.

could be longer, could be shorter. Only
they can tell. There could be
cuddling (if they are lucky)
or turned backs (if they are ******).
Worse,
one could be sobbing.
Soundless, inconspicuous sobs
even the body beside her
cannot hear.
Aisrah Misch Sep 2016
"I'm happy you're sleepy.
Instead of falling in love or falling apart, why not fall asleep instead and get your exhausted mind some much needed slumber and silence."

"Instead of falling in love or falling asleep, why don't you fall apart instead? Then pick yourself up and maybe ask us to help you if there are any missing pieces."

"Thanks. That's thoughtful.
It's just that falling in love feels like life and falling asleep feels like death but falling apart feels like dying."

n.v.
Aisrah Misch Aug 2016
She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through.
Then passed right by–
And never knew
She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through.
Then passed right by–
And never knew.

-Shel Silverstein
Aisrah Misch Jul 2016
Masikip at maliit
madilim at mainit
mga pang-uring aking naiisip
sa tuwing naalala ang mumunti
nating silid.

Masikip at maliit
madilim at mainit
ngunit sa loob ng apat na sulok
dito tayo'y malayang mangarap
matapang sumubok.

Masikip at maliit
madilim at mainit
lumagi sa loob ng isang taon, maraming buwan,  sa wakas, atin na rin, akin na ring
tinuring na tahanan.
Aisrah Misch Jul 2016
Sinalungguhitan
Aisrah Misch Dec 2015
I have a confession.

Only your skin makes me alive now.
Only the crook in your neck gives me warmth,
and thaws the winter in my heart.
Only your eyes light this seemingly tunnel of darkness I am crawling in.

I let your lips trace my body,
Only because I need to know I am
not yet formless,
only to feel the touch
because I need to know I am
not a ghost yet.
I open my mouth for your mouth,
and taste you, and you breathe life into me.

You do not know this. No, not yet.
Aisrah Misch May 2015
Gusto ko na rin umuwi,
humimbing, manahan,
sa tugtog niya, sa tinig niya,
sa tahanan kong siya.

Ilang araw na ring
nagpigil umaming
masyadong malayo ang dito
sa diyan.
Madalas, minsan, malimit
magulo ang isip sa tuwing gabi'y tahimik.
Binibilang ang mga araw, nadadagdagan ang pananabik
hanggang umapaw na at naging luha walang tigil umagos.
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