as human beings and consumers, we often seek for contentment
as seekers, we search for satisfaction to fill in missing parts of us we think we need
as lovers, we seek for attention, longingness and to be far off from the void
we search for what is relevant enough to be the food of our soul, and as we consume we are never satisfied
so we seek for satisfaction, wanting more
and with hands full, a heart pouring out of selflessness, we destroy ourselves
as we fall in love, we fall apart
giving and offering missing puzzle pieces that exist within us
as we gradually become into nothing, we feed off of others, consuming whatever it is they have left
we accept their love, and they, our flaws
aware that we are only body parts that are reconnecting
as we heal, we occupy their vacancies, filling in missing parts that have been hollow for too long
we become their musings, their vertebrae of support
they become our sanctuary and our hope
they become the memories that look into the future
instead of the mistakes that shaped who we are

n.j.

the walls leaned in closer every time she spoke
as fleeting as her voice, time shook before her
her hands were the minutes and the hours
her smile was a reminder, her eyes were a lover's
yet she belonged to no one but herself
each breath took was a second lost
each word drifted and passed around
each picture taken was a memory
she was slowly slipping towards death
and although she knew,
there was always something beautiful about it

n.j.

your words spill like hot coffee across the table
with every syllable and touch of the tongue against your palate
i am still not used to how clouded your mind is
you often forget that i exist as a person with emotion,
a person with scars that can gradually reopen
i realized throughout the days that you barely know the little things,
like my favorite color, the reason behind my smiles and the passion
that i've grown used to hiding
you forget to question the reason behind my tears,
you forget to hold me when i'm surrounded by all these fears,
but i guess i've gotten used to knowing
that your words can't always fix what's broken inside

you say that i know nothing
but with every sweep of your broom,
with every wipe of your cloth
against the corners that have slowly started to collect dust
you bury me under what used to be a colossal of a heart
i try to suffice this cup with a love-filled gesture,
a written letter, an explanation to why i am an apparent disappointment
but nothing will ever be enough

you say that i know nothing
but to rely on the people around me
you say that i can't cook to please,
that i can't fix things and that i'm clueless on how to live this life
that has been given to me
that my hands are too weak to hold the stirring wheel
that my skin is too soft and easily grazed
that i can't satisfy a husband if needed be

so i'm sorry and that i know nothing
but to observe life from a far away distance
that i've been too busy trying to fix my mistakes
instead of cleaning the messes i leave behind
i'm sorry for being a lousy driver
for as my weak hands have to offer
only comfort and guidance to the people i love the most
i'm sorry for clinging to my own perspective of wisdom
instead of working towards the outcome,
for leaving the dishes as they towered one on top of the other
i'm sorry for being human, and for being a daughter
that has not passed your expections
for being the one that knows nothing more
but to cherish the hands meant for reaching places instead of bed sheets
meant for adventure, instead of suffering

i'm sorry for living

10:34PM*

i'm torn between filling an entire page with my stream of thoughts and collapsing into bed, hoping i'll never wake up again in the morning. it's terrifying to think that something so dreadful could easily cloud up a mind that's trying so hard to escape from death. but i can't help feel anything but discontent and the constant disarray of patterns and paths i wish to fix.

but what can i do when i can't even fix myself?

n.j.

time is painful to deal with. sometimes i wish it never existed. we cannot grasp or stop it from going back or forward, we're only left with how it is and what will be.

eventually it is the only thing left to accompany us alongside accepting the deaths of loved ones and those of the unbeknownst. our lives befall victim to numbered days, hours, seconds and we cannot control the outcome. my only wish is to not see you suffering into shivering hands too fragile they might crumble. to be able to fulfill dreams without the cost of the lives of another.

i wish i could be able to hold you until your final hour but who knows, there could be something more distant than distance that will never bring us as close as we are now together. nothing can compare to the present affection we offer to families, lovers and friends. most of all, nothing is more beautiful than the never-ending dedication and loyalty that we will carry on as treasures buried deep in our hearts.

we will continue to love past coffins and tombstones, sickness or health, touch or longing to get rid of the ache that we feel.

and we will always wonder why there's never enough time to love the ones we want to, the ones we need to.

n.j.

i wish i could have met you in a past life, somewhere deep into the future or a different environment. a foreseeable destiny of
disassembled events, waiting to be rearranged into a different order. maybe you and i could have perfectly fit in, as i've always imagined us to be

but unfortunately imaginations seem to fall under fairy tales and tragedies, because sometimes *what we want won't always be

we all rely on the gravity that pulls us back into the earth when our heads are caught up in the clouds. the world is one gigantic living and breathing organism that latches on to the beliefs we so speak. but what separates me from you are the barriers that position us in places where we're out of reach. and all i desire for is to be able to meet you, see you and acknowledge the fact that you are real.

i move from place to place until i lose count of all the people i encounter and i feel as if we may have crossed paths on the streets or the grocery store or daily hour. i'd be lying if i say that i never get tired of searching for you every day but i believe the world moves in mysterious ways so that one day those walls will crumble and disappear and everything else will fall into place, and just maybe you might be real.

i drag my feet across concrete and daily routines often forgetting that the world is indeed too unfathomable to explain. you could have been that person gazing out the window of hotel rooms or vehicles. you could have been the person in front of the line, counting your change before making your way. you could have seen the scars on my arms or my vacant eyes and how you wished you could have approached me in some way that wasn't odd for you and i. maybe you could have said hi. but such acknowledgments are often dismissed with eye contacts and smiles, sometimes not even our senses could be leaned on. our true intentions disguised with glances, subtle hand brushes and complete negligence.

quickly enough, you are nothing but just a stranger walking past me unknowingly with only the thoughts of daily routines clouding up your mind. you may forget the order of things and misinterpret a stare as elusive, wishfully hoping it could have been an introduction to a greeting. i apologize for not initiating on to the next step and only admiring how lonely a human being could get, standing alongside me and many others yet our bodies seem to respond only to each other intensely but subtly to the eye.

we both know the holdback is agonizing and we wish for the day when we would be running our fingers through the rubble of the walls we tear down. for now, what we believe in will remain as thoughts. the world will always contradict with our stream of desires, dreams and feelings. you and i may not know of each others' existence but everything else on this earth is alive, living and breathing, and in time i will be able to look at you in the eyes and know for sure that you are all that is real.

n.j.