i wonder how many people are jealous of the moon
how it can see everyone
and how everyone sees its beauty that permeates through all the other beautiful things
sometimes, i ask the same moon you loved staring at
“where could he be now?”
and hope that it would cross your mind that i still long for you, especially in this cold November night
because on this bermuda under a talisay, we could be loud again
we would be laughing again like nineteens
but all i hear now are crickets that could wound my ears
“where could he be now?”
i ask the moon sometimes, twice
but then i just wish you’re happier somewhere.