I swear it is.
And I was so spooked and I was scared.
In my previous apartment,
There, sometimes I would hear laughters.
Sometimes I would hear moans.
Sometimes I would hear smooching sounds.
And then I would hear more laughters.
Sometimes I would see visions, a mirage.
Sometimes I would see this shade of brown.
And then I would cry and break down.
My previous room in Siargao have ghosts.
There, I would see people. Two of them.
Talking. Laughing. Moaning. Kissing.
Showering together. More kissing.
Less talking.
The bed in my previous apartment in Siargao is haunted.
But there, instead of cold, I feel a phantom of warmth.
Sometimes, I feel a hug or a body behind my back.
Sometimes I would hear whispers in my left ear.
And then I would see a vision again.
I would feel, hear or see things there, it drove me half-insane.
Because once, we were there, there was us.
In my previous apartment in Siargao.
My previous apartment in Siargao is haunted,
by memories, what-could-have-beens,
by February. And now we are the ghosts.
And I am no longer afraid, I am no longer scared.
But with each other, we're now careful and wary.
Both our hearts and body are tired and weary and heavy.
But once, there, in our previous apartment and the bed we shared,
we were laughing, kissing, talking, more kissing and chests heaving.
And my new, large dream house in Siargao still has ghosts.
Here, there are shadows of two people I can't recognize.
Two of us—only we're happier, in love, only honest, in peace.
In the kitchen, talking. In the sofa, laughing. In the loft, moaning.
Kissing, showering, more kissing, or simply talking.
My previous apartment in Siargao is haunted.
My new large dream house in Siargao is also haunted.
But if you say you want to come inside and sleep in my bed,
I will tell you that I am no longer scared. Honest to goodness.
If you say you want to talk to me and tell me how you truly feel,
You should know I am no longer afraid, in your eyes, I feel no fear.