I wake up, I wait for pandesal.
I go out and go on my daily walk.
I walk out, I try not to trip and fall.
I try my best to keep it in and not talk.
But then I get a fresh coconut to drink.
I take a sip to try to undo the night before.
I try my best not to use my phone or think.
Yet I think of ways on how to undo all the hurt.
I go to another cafe, I don't mind if all I do is spend.
I spend and waste my time and my youth, or so they say.
What's the price I have to pay? I lose my mind, make this end.
I pay no mind yet I pace my own life, take the pain day by day.
But I take another nap anyway, then wake up, eat more bread.
But I eat even though sometimes I just want to *****
I can't remember how it feels to have another cold body on my bed.
This is where the poem changes, don't blame me for it.
Anyway, I work out, or so I try—not that it's even a need.
I go out, try to look for your motorcycle if it's parked.
But still I walk away, with my heart in my calloused heels.
My heart is a rabid dog, all it does is recite poems or bark.
But then I sleep, do it all over again anyway.
I wake up, I wait, for whatever I wish to wait for today.
Will it be for you? Who knows.
Will it be for pandesal? No questions.
Will it be for the day I eat pandesal again with you? Who knows.
I will maybe on the day when it snows.
Anyway, today, I go out and look out for your motorcycle.
I will stop maybe on the day this country stops being a hell.