Maybe one day you and I will meet again
When we're slightly different people;
When your temper's a bit calmer,
When my thoughts aren't that crazy,
And all our dreams are finally fireflies in an arm's length

I wouldn't make a havoc within you then,
You wouldn't drown in my miseries.

Perhaps, right now, you must stay on the shore
Keep off from my cold, unruly waves
Run as fast as you can
Find a lighthouse
Save yourself from my surge of mayhem.

Then when I've finally managed to still my flow;
When my waves are tamed
And the chaos has calmed,
Maybe we can dance again under the twinkling of stars

If once in your life you come across a beautiful flower,

Don't pick it up,

It'll die.



At first, the flower might dance in the wind;

Happy, with its face beaming brightly.

It might even say, "I'm so glad you plucked me from that boring bush."

You take the flower home,

Learn its name.

You do all sorts of things together;

And you ask yourself how on earth you even lived,

Without this flower to liven you up;

How did you even manage to push through,

Devoid of a companion to boost you up.

You suddenly feel so light like floating, you wonder why.

Then, the flower makes you realize,

How sometimes, emptiness can be heavy too.

And that you’ve bottled too much emptiness for so long now.



But you picked the flower.

One at a time, its petals would slowly fall

“When you pick a beautiful flower, it dies.”

Once you realize this,It's too late.



The flower might survive a couple more days,

If you place it in water;

But this won't stop the unavoidable.

It won’t save it;

It won't prevent it from succumbing to its painful death.



You’ll place it gently on the ground.

Tell it you’re sorry over and over again.

But, at this time, it’s had enough of your *******.

It has gotten tired of hearing how sorry you are all the time.

It’ll tell you how lazy you are,

Because all you do is stay inside your ******* cave.

It’ll tell you how you are never contented,

You say, the flower takes the stress away.

But here you are, still stressed with ******* life.

It’ll tell you you’re too weak,

Because you can’t lift yourself up with all this hate behind you;

You always fall on your knees and learned to walk with them instead.

The flower will tell you that all you did was hurt it.

From the moment you cut it from its stem,

To plucking the unwanted leaves it had.

It’ll tell you how drained it became when you snatched it,

That it can no longer smile like it used to,

And that you should carry the emptiness again;

This time, all by yourself.



The flower withers.



So if once in your life you come across a beautiful flower,

Don’t **** it.

She has a weird habit of biting straws when drinking
until they're beautifully deformed;
she does the same thing even with the edge of disposable cups.

She always makes faces,
that's the first thing I've seen she's done
the first time I saw her.

She easily gets jealous
when I give "too much attention"
toward other things (or people).
I can't say I like it
but that's what she does that really diversifies her
from other people I know.

She almost never combs her hair.
She pouts her lips.
She speaks in a way that's almost chivvying.
She's always insecure.
You know what they say about butterflies?
They don't see how beautiful their wings are
so they live their whole lives believing they're not beautiful.

She has this bizarre wont to start telling random stories so suddenly,
I am not yet ready to hear them.

She's strange yet fetching.
She's odd, she's unique.
She's mysterious but innocuous.
She's peculiar.

I mean, how can you just
suddenly fall in love with something unfamiliar.

Like how comforting it feels
to watch the stars for the first time.

Then, you'd realise
that you don't even know
much about the stars.

And when you finally do learn
that they're distant,
huge and probably something
you won't be able to lay your hands onto,
you'd start to think twice.

Then you'd lay your back
on the grass (or the roof)
once more.

You'd look upon the glittery night sky.
And think it's fine;

you'd still watch the stars.

You were a storm that ruined her.
She was a piece of land who delightedly endured you.
She asked for rain, you gave her hurricane.
And after you're done, you left her ravaged.
But that's fine, she was an artwork;
And she still is.
She gave herself to you, but she'll never give herself to anyone else.

Your paint was the only thing spilled to the canvass;
Her canvass.
And if we are to dust her heart for fingerprints,
I'd be certain we'd only find yours.

Yesterday, she touched my lips with her fingers.

I wasn't so dizzy but I laid my head on her thighs.

I kissed her on her cheeks, I hugged her so tight.

We talked about our petty little secrets.

We stood on the rooftop taking all the night lights in.

She leaned her head on my shoulders.

Her face complemented the night sky.

I stared at her and I swear she's the most beautiful creature I've ever been so close to.

And I knew in those moments we were just playing some pretending games.

I thought I was contented. I thought.

Now, I know we should stop playing this game.

I'm losing all my cards.

I'm afraid that maybe after we're done playing inside our own storm, I'll be left alone engulfed in the sea of darkness. Scathed by the memories of her. And no matter how hard I try to keep swimming to the shore, I won't be able to find my way out.

I have come to know,

These teardrop bottles I've collected
Lying along with my books on these dusty shelves,
Will sit there and constantly remind me
That they've come to drown away the sadness
I have always had in my eyes

And like the rain to the earth,
They've come to mend the cracks in my heart
That had gone dry
When you were still my sun
Who brightened my days;

And, without me even noticing,
Had slowly burned my heart;
With the fake warmth of your love
All the pain each bottle now holds,
Somehow saved me from turning to ashes

One bottle for every night I've cried,
A drop of tear for every beat my heart skipped;
Bottles which kept not only tears and pain,
But the sounds of my voice at night
Whenever I cried your name

These teardrop bottles still call your name...

I know this isn’t like the movies...
But I miss you, Baby. And this is not the kind of missing that I can get over with after a few days. This is the one kind that will not go away until I see you again.
My feet are aching to get to wherever you are. And my mind’s wanting to drag my body to whatever place you might be. But I know I can’t do that; at least not for now.
That’s why I am resorting to whatever possible things I can do so I can feel close to you. But what remains is reading our past messages, staring at your number in my phone book and wandering through your Facebook account. That, and getting lost while I gaze at my cell phone’s wallpaper that features your face.
I miss you so much, Baby. I wish you’d be mine because you know I will always be yours. I wish I could hug you whenever I want to; wish I could kiss you wherever I want to; wish I could talk to you all day and we wouldn’t run out of topics; wish we’d never hang up when we talk over the phone; wish you think I’ll be perfect for you even though I know in myself that I am not. Are these things even possible? I wish.
Baby, do you know that I miss you so much I won’t be able to explain how much? I wish you’d be mine. I hate it when they stare at you.
That’s why I never tell about you to people—even my own friends—I avoid them seeing my phone’s wallpaper. Because I know I’ll hate it when they start to ask about you. And I don’t want them to. I don’t want it because I know they’ll get a liking of you. What if they meet you, and they start talking to you saying I told you to them. And slowly you’d like them too; even better than me. Yes you might call me selfish, guarding you from them, but that's what I'd probably do.
Everybody likes you. You’re like a star that fell down from the sky, and everybody wants to see how immaculate you are. And it’s not a bad thing, I know, but I hate to think about that. Because I’m afraid that when these people start wanting to be closer to you, to know what stars are made of, I’d be left behind their trails, barred by their bodies between us and I won’t be able to reach you again, no matter how much I extend my arms to do that. All will be left are stardust, the littlest remnants of you I could still hold, glittering on my palms that nobody else wants. I’m afraid to lose what I don’t really have.
I wish I could hug you. And I wish you’d hug me too. So tight, until my spine collapses.
I wish I could kiss you. I know you’re the sweetest thing in the world.
I wish I could talk to you all day. And we'd share stories we never told anyone before.
I wish we’d never hang up on calls. Oh, believe me, I won't if you won't.
I wish you’d say “you’re perfect to me” one day.
I wish you’d be mine. One day. You and me. I wish.

You know, I always do try to look for your flaws;
     it might save me from falling.



But the more I try to see in your faults,
     the more I try to get disappointed with your cracks,
          is the more I'm starting to get lost in your void.



I am a spark of light wandering through the darkness of you.

I am a lost star in the middle of your infinite universe.

My clock heart is ticking fast
I inhaled pollen,
Breathed petals

My wooden skin's starting to rust
I ate rubber,
Spitted metals

Now my eyes are bleeding dust
I kissed fire,
Chewed its smoke

I don't how long I'd last
My bones shatter;
How would I dance?

When it rained,
I tried looking for rainbows
But the skies were filled with dark clouds

When the darkness came,
I tried looking for stars
But everywhere was pitch black

Now that I am lost,
I want to look for you
But I know you too are adrift
In your own dream
Trying to figure out
Where those butterflies are

And if they wanted you to see them

There is a city inside my body
With cars making their way through my veins
People are on rush like they’re insane

My organs make up the industries
And the people are the workers
They work twenty-four/seven, tirelessly

Waiting for the food
Which they make into goods
And supply to all the smaller towns

But in my body,
The day never comes
So they’re accustomed to night-time

And all the routes and all the buildings,
And all the cars with their honking
Even lampposts and payphones

All the houses’ windows
Maybe even TVs and radios
Together, they make their own city lights

'Wag kang mag-alala,
'Pag nilangaw na ang
     bahagharing tuyot na
     at wala nang sigla,
Lilipad ang mga paru-parong
     matagal nang nagtago
     sa aking sikmura,
Noong mga panahong
     pinaghalong saya at kaba pa
     ang nararamdaman ko
     'pag kasama kita...
'Wag kang mag-alala,
     mamahalin pa rin kita...

'Wag kang mag-alala,
'Pag napagod na ang
     dagat sa pag-alon
     at pagsayaw ng mahinahon,
Patutulugin siya pansamantala
     ng mga minahal at
     pinagkatagu-tago kong mga ibon
Na nagkubli sa tinig mo
     habang inakala kong
     hindi lilipasin ng panahon...
'Wag kang mag-alala,
     mamahalin pa rin kita...

'Wag kang mag-alala,
'Pag tinamad nang umawit
     ang hangin para sa
     iningatang puso,
Bababa ang mga tala
     na inipon nang
     matagal at itinago,
Upang alisin ang lamig ng gabi
     na noo'y nasa mga bisig mo
     at inakalang 'di magbabago...
'Wag kang mag-alala,
    mamahalin pa rin kita...

'Wag kang mag-alala,
'Pag nakalimutan nang
     ngumiti ng araw
     dahil sa inis,
Yayakapin siya ng buwan
     kahit pa ang kapalit
     ay masunog siya nang labis,
Pipigain ang huling patak
     na luha mula sa mga matang
     tinirahan na ng hinagpis...

'Wag kang mag-alala,
     mamahalin pa rin kita
     kahit sa huling dugong
     dadaloy sa ugat ng puso
     kong sirang-sirang na...

'Wag kang mag-alala,
     mamahalin pa rin kita
     kahit sa huling hanging
     aagpas sa aking bibig
     na pagod nang sumigaw...

'Wag kang mag-alala,
mamahalin pa rin kita, Mahal...

Have you ever seen a night sky so clear;
So clear that there’s not even a sign of the moon’s existence?

Well, I’m under one right now
The street is empty and the darkness is silent
No rustling of leaves or bushes,
No hums of crickets singing in chorus

Window drapes are down
And they’re all black instead of yellow
Streetlights are the only source of light
And that telephone booth standing steadily alone on the corner

Hands inside my hoodie’s pocket, I go in it
I pick the phone up and started dialing a number
When suddenly all the lights go out
In a blink of an eye, and the world is in total darkness

Everything is quieter than ever
Then the wind comes whooshing
The thunder begins applauding
The lighting started like camera flashes

Raindrops as big as golf ***** fall from the sky
And the way they hit the roof of the booth,
I almost believe they’re as heavy
Inside the booth I still get wet from all the sweat

Then, as if on cue, the storm dies
Quietness floods again
The booth light flickers but that’s all
Streetlights never come back

Hesitating for a moment, I slowly go out
I look up and the sky isn’t just a black canvas anymore;
It’s now filled with blots of white ink
Glittered to life

I kick the waters not yet ****** up by the drains
I look at how calm they are
Mirroring the beautiful night sky painted
I can definitely say I’m top and under the cosmos

I wanna tell you a story,
Wherein I chose you and me
     to be the protagonists

We met while waiting for a bus,
     under the shed

Rain pounding on the sidewalks
The sky is a mix of blue and violet,
     wind is whistling like a madcap

But the raindrop still reaches us
Our shoulders soaked
     we were so wet

And we glanced at each other
Meeting each other's eyes
     so we looked away fast

Silence...

You laughed
So I laughed

And we laughed our hearts out,
     for no reason

All I can hear is the sound of the wind whistling,
At the other side of the road, there you are standing,
The silence outstands my heart beats' calling,
I see your eyes fixed at me, staring

Suddenly, all I knew is we're at a café,
You're talking funny while we're on our lattés
I, meeting you this morning, did my day,
My ears are stuck waiting for every single word you say,

And you took my number when we parted,
Every time I remember your sweet smile, my heart melted.
Today I received a message from you which read:
I think I've fallen for you even though it's like only yesterday we've met.

My feelings are like squirrels who hibernated in my heart. No matter how much I wanna keep them, I know I can't; eventually, they'll go out because it'll never be winter forever...

My giving up is beating my hope on a race...

I have always remembered how you danced in my dreams.
The way you interlocked your fingers with mine.
When you kissed me no matter where we were.
And when you poked me at my back and smiled.

I have always remembered that all of those are only in my dreams.
That it's not meant to happen in real life.

That you’ll never hold my hand unless we high-five.
That when you kiss me on my cheek, it’s on a dare.
And when you poke me at my back you just need to tell me something.

I have always remembered how you make the stars lose their light.
The way you smile and I melt.
How you keep me on waking up every morning.
How your face shines among the rest of the crowd.

I have always remembered that all of those I have to keep to myself.
‘Cause you’ll only dance for me…
In my dreams…

The sun's hot enough,
To fry an egg on the sidewalk;
And yet, I feel so cold.
So cold like winter.

So cold that if you'd stab me,
I'd shatter into a million snowflakes.

Everything I touch,
Turns ice instead of gold
And I'd rather have
The latter melting

Because I'd rather be covered
With hot metal,
Than drown with this
Melted emptiness...

Once, there was a boy, who played the guitar so well,
              he played love songs
And all of his friends would sing along,
              just because… he played so well
And he drew people alone and showed them to his friends,
And they would tell him how good he was,
               but needed improvements
And he’d nod with approval
And he stared at a girl at school from a distance
               but the girl wouldn’t look back
And he told his friends he had asthma,
               so all of them knew
               and everyone was there for him

One day, in an open field, he played the guitar again,
               he played songs about friendship
And almost all of his friends sang along,
               and he played really well
The next day, he drew alone again and showed it to his friends,
And his friends would say how he did improve,
               but needed more of it
And he’d nod with a smile
And he’d look at the girl at school from a distance
               but the girl was already looking at him
Occasionally, his breathing got harder,
               his friends would worry
               so he would be sent home earlier

In school, his friends sang on stage while he played the guitar,
               they sang a song about misery
And the audience would sing along,
               even though, they didn’t sing so well
And he drew other things and showed them to his friends,
And his friends would tell him he drew things better than people,
               and told him to draw more things
And he’d nod satisfied
And the girl he gazed from a distance fall in love with him
               so he asked her to be his girlfriend
He knew how to deal with his asthma
               so it’s not much of a problem
               even though they’re not always there

After graduation, he’d play the guitar alone sometimes,
               he played songs for his friends
And he’d imagine them sing along,
               and loved it even they didn’t sing so well
And he stopped drawing because there was no one to show them,
And no one would tell him what he should do next
               and he missed them
He was alone all the time
And his girl, like his friends, was also busy and they were rarely together
               he was more alone than ever
At seven o’clock in the morning, his asthma attacked,
               the worse kind, so he didn’t knew how to deal with it
               nobody was there to help him
And on his last breath,
               he was more alone than ever…

It was one of those days,
When you'd lay on the couch
With the tv on

Watching basketball games
And football match
Or anything that's on

Maybe it's a day you'd enjoy
Lying on your stomach on the bed
With a good book

By your side, sitting, a stuffed toy
And a world existing only in your head
Everyone would dare look

Or it could also be a day
To go out and try to have fun,
Have a walk on the park

Without thinking it might be your last day
Last time you'd see the sun
The last beat of your heart

It was raining really hard,
I’m standing under an empty shed
And the sky wasn’t starred,
Seemed like all the lights were dead

You came under the umbrella,
With your face neither happy nor sad
I looked up hoping to see the Capella,
But still the sky seemed mad

Slowly, I glanced at you,
I caught you staring at me
Then the wind hardly blew,
The freezing rain fell free

Suddenly, the shower stopped
You smiled, I blushed
Overwhelmed, my gaze dropped,
And everything around hushed

Then lights started flickering,
I thought they were the stars
But no, they weren’t shimmering,
The fireflies were ours

She's scary but very beautiful...
Like fire, terrifying, but at the same time, too tempting to touch.

She screams at me but I love it...
Like a lion humming with piano keys.

She wore black and made it look like rainbow...
Like a bat with butterfly wings.

I crack an egg over the pan,
And drizzle it with salt

The oil seethe with anger,
As the sides of the egg turns brown

I push a spatula between the egg and the pan,
Then I slowly lift it and transfer it to a plate

The yolk wiggles in a funny motion
A whiff reaches my nose and it lingers for a while
The last one joins the other plates on the table.

And it's not only our world,
That'll shatter in the end,
But the whole *universe...

There is a thousand distant suns above me.

Faded clothes,
Burnt face,
Sticky hair,
Filthy palms,
Bloodshot eyes,
Sweaty arms.

Dried throat,
Painful thighs,
Sore feet,
Divided crowd,
Pitiful players,
Swollen knuckles.

Torn hope,
Crumpled chance,
Sunned court,
Tumbling scores,
Coughing points,
Silver lining.

Stop setting yourself on fire,
For someone who stays,
To watch you burn.

Terhe are all dnifereft kdins of wlords out trehe,
Weethhr you tihnk it eixst or it deos not

Tehre are all dferfiet knids of wdorls you bnoleg,
Whteher tehy tinhk it esixt or it deos not

Yro'ue atuclaly rdenaig tihs peom in a drefenfit wrlod you dind't kenw eetsxid.

Now, I know that it's every person you meet who decides what beast you become.

Now,
You
Are
Reading
My
Poem
And
You
Might
Hate
It
Because
It's
A­ctually
Senseless
And,
Right
Now,
You
Would
Stop
Reading.
Oops!
I­ guess
I was
Wrong
But
Now,
Really,
I know
You'll
Stop
Right
Here
.
Guess
I was
Wrong
Again.
This
Time
I won't
Be wrong
Anymore
Because
You
Would
Really
Stop
Reading
This
Right
No­w

She hugged him so tight
So tight that he thought
     his bones would shatter

But he let it all night
Because he would let himself die
     if it was in the arms of her...

The orangey sun would soon die,
Dipping in the warm open oceans
Black unfeathered birds would fly,
Accompanied with teeth of draconians

The blue sky would be painted black,
And rounded moon would be lighted up
Little suns would start to spark,
With the cricket sounds, abrupt

After 12 rounds of the shorter hand,
The ball of fire will start blazing back
And by the shore, I would stand
Still, wide smiles and plenty laughs I lack

Here's to me.
Here's to keeping up all night reading a good book.
To doodling your professor's face in classes.
To waking up late on weekdays.
To getting all tired after a volleyball game.
To listening to piano music when it's raining.
To getting your shoes all soaked up...when it's raining.
To crying...when it's raining.
To watching fireflies at night.
To listening to crickets...at night.
To watching the sunset while being nostalgic.
To singing out of tune in the bathroom.
To wasting some precious time while on the toilet bowl just thinking.
To eating too much when you know you shouldn't.
To painting while being in just your underwear.
To turning your headphones to the highest volume when your mom's shouting from the kitchen.
To eating midnight snacks 3 times every night.
To crying over a good movie.
To hating yourself because of wanting something you know you can't get.
To loving yourself because you know you're still you no matter how much tears you've wasted.
To spending all your money for food and books and  bookmarks and pencils and pens and paints and paintbrushes and...food.
To going out with friends everyday or night.
To not wanting to go home because you've got so much more to talk about.
To thinking how much you hate thinking about dying.
To hating Peter Pan because you know he never gets old.
To hating Wendy because she chose to leave Neverland.
To trying to get over the fear of death.
To hoping you'll never grow old and die.
To dying right now...

I took a knife
I took a pen

With it, I started to write
With it, I stabbed my chest

On a white piece of paper
Deepest so it would hurt

But no ink would come out
But no pain could be felt

It would only tear the paper
It would only wound my heart

I thought I could write, but I couldn't
I thought I would die, and I was right

I wasn't a writer
*I was a killer

The thirst for love,
Isn't caused by never having tasted it
But by savoring it once,
Then losing it on your way through;

You won't crave for something
you haven't tasted yet.

chick·en* /ˈCHikən/ • adj.* 1. 'guess I can't always be tough. 2. sometimes I have to hide in the shadows of misery.

You're whispering way too loud,
They might hear;

Like my heart beating too loud,
You might hear

He sat across the extent,
On the wide room floor

She just curled up on bed,
As if he didn’t exist

He wanted to speak,
But no words came out

Her eyes started to leak,
Although she didn’t dare wipe it up

He stood and walked to the door
With hesitance, he almost fell

She wanted to stop him
As she heard the **** turned

He waited for her,
To ask him to stop

But she didn’t
Her conceit was too high

Nobody spoke
He left
She wept**

If sorries were that easy to say
Then maybe, they both stayed

Then I came to the realization
That I wasn’t really alive
Because I haven't felt how is it
To be *dead

It's funny how I'm a universe.
                   A universe so vast.
                                  So vast you'll never see the whole me.



The whole me? Does it *matter?