There are times when
I feel that I have already forgotten about you
but those don’t happen as often
as when you pass through me like a feeling
going about your business
touching my core, wounding it
and moving away without warning.
I see you
in lights dancing in my room.
For a moment, what bliss.
But lights fade, too, without notice.

This morning I left the kettle screaming.
It is hard to listen to any sound
other than confusion
which is louder. Now there is a fly
on my fantasy book. How I want to **** it
yet how I want to let it linger a bit longer
to distract me
from trying to understand you
like a language,
but failing.

Have I told you about my wasted nights?
You used to know about those nights.
Now I only talk to you in memories.
One night I sat by the window
trying to feel only the wind,
but there you were again
reminding me of the day you told me
you were stuck for four hours in traffic.
It was a Friday night in EDSA,
I laughed that it surprised you.

Tell me about the ghosts in your bedroom
and I’ll tell you about mine. Tell me once again
about that dream you had when you were nine.
I promise I will listen this time.
Tell me you’re close by
or tell me you’re far from here,
just tell me anyhow.
For I have been locking my doors
hundreds of times,
but I want you to know
I still have my windows open.