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I know it was a tragedy,
but I woke up to a pile of poetry,
letters I've stayed up late to write,
letters I've striven to sound right;
you and the tragedy we went through,
the chaos of my love for you;
the ruins of us,
all I needed for this blank canvas,
the
art
of
pain.
It's cold outside, but I'm still here waiting.
Where do you hide?
heaven's pouring,
oh how terrifying, this heart's burning.

Falling from the cliff,
menaced with this fate.
I know for sure this won't last, you won't love.
you won't jump off.
You could never be mine;
the love I could never have.

Yet our touch will be the only thing that's right.
my fantasies came true, only tonight.

got a blank stare
sleep deprived,
overthinking,
daydreaming;
you and I.

Infatuation.. infatuation..
I couldn't grasp, why?
Infatuation.. infatuation..
I should end you very soon.
Woke up from a dream,
only a memoir.
Mornings
without
you.
I painted you into my life,
I listened to your laughter like it was a lullaby,
and your voice was more than a sonnet, a prose, a novel
I would wish to read with infinite pages; infinite lines.
I dived into your soul when I saw your eyes; and they were one.
I wondered how the planets orbited in us,
while our moment frosted I wish we didn't surpass.
Perhaps that's how both our universes commingled.
Perhaps that's why I painted you into my life,
I listened to your laughter inside my head, I didn't know why.
And your voice played all day long, I could write a poetry with never ending lines.
I dived into my tears when you were mean,
I wondered how could the moon and the sky
would allow our nights to be saddened; the darkness with the absence of us.
Perhaps that's why both our universes were suddenly non-aligned.

... Still in the array, wondering if our souls would still collide
or might be menaced in the oblivion of each separate existence;
or could I exist unattached?
Should I survive unattached when I lived in you,
when
I
belong
to
you?
...and the magic hour struck..
here alone,
last night I was in a haste,
you were dragged in anger
out of me.
When
you
could've
known,
that I was completely,
sufficed in you, consumed by you.
Now we've taken our turn,
we've been so cold,
yet
we
still
burnt
out.
love like the raging fires in the forest.
Now how could this die?
still wishing we could still make our turn right.
The universe and us,
eleven
eleven
still wishing you wouldn't let go.
Should I be like Leonor?
Have I been like her? what did I do to myself?
were you Jose? was I Leonor?
this night I'll overdose,
all that I've written to you,
and confessions that all words,
spoke and written in the paper
were all for you
about you
only
you.

You
and
the paradise you've built for us,
You
and
how you manifested all your magic,
You
and
the glimmering lights in the garden.

Should I be like Leonor?
This night I will die,
the story of her undying love,
true
faithful
over time
over anyone else
over all the pain
over distance

Should my love for you be like Leonor's to Jose?

Noli Me Tangere

I spoke,
and spoke,
and spoke...
as I was shattered,
shattered like Leonor.

This night in my death bed,
all of these poems I wrote for love,
about love,
love,
you
are
the
only
love,

Oh Dear you,
burn the letters I wrote for you,
words rotten in the papers,
unsent,
unseen,
forgotten,
neglected,
rejected,

Stories,­
pieces,
a novel of secrets,
stories,
pieces,
a novel of the baggage I carried,
I kept all the love I wished we shared.

Burn the letters
and the ashes,
will be with me
here
in this coffin,
Leonor and I are one.
My Jose,
I never regret writing for you.
and all of these words I could never learn to write a single verse, if it's not for you.
Forever away from you,
I do love you...


But touch me not.


-fin-
Read Noli Me Tangere by Gat Jose Rizal, his novel where Leonor Rivera his ex girlfriend was named Maria Clara, and him as Crisostomo Ibarra
I found shooting stars,
but I missed to wish,
grass fields' were so wild,
your caress takes my soul,
holding my hand so tight;
my eyes were drawn to you.
Together we fell,
dived deep in the exuberance;
of the sudden rapid beating of our hearts.
The moment we took to hold,
our
moment
spoke.
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