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And she cried the last drop of her tears.
But still, promising to love again.
And to love even lovelier.

I'd be the only girl
To my only one.

Mightiest people are those
in love, are the weakest.*

Say to your fear,
"Let us die together."

Strange it is to find your muse
in trivial things.
Isn't it?
Steel bars stream
  from my eyes, are the
    bulwarks of my heart.
I gave up my pen,
And tore all my dreams.
Poetry never was my friend
Thus my journey as poet, here ends.

- qyf
"The saddest poem a poet could write."

I often sit in doubt with overwhelming self-pity--- will I really make it? Will my pen able to cut through souls the way it cuts mine?

However, me learns that mine doubt is irreversible. It will forever be inside me...not to hinder...but to enable me to strive to surpass still be true with my writing. It is only, after all, mine pen which is able to hear and understand the deepest sighs of my soul.
The earth snores,
while my thoughts roar
And they are undisturbed.

I woke up at 4 a.m. freezing.
I thought I left the windows opened, but it wasn't.
Crawled back to bed, knees drawn to chest.
Grabbed my blanket while
thinking to myself, "God, I miss him."

I will soon see a smile
like a rainbow
stretch to comfort my heart
that had been stormed
by past mishandling.  

And when that time comes,
even I be smothered again,
I will stand invincible.
For as the sky after the storm
behold its rainbow,
so will my heart behold him more.

This I know,
He will be my sweet aftermath.
that are
in a
b l i n k,
b r e a k.*

Forgive me,
if at this moment
you are lonely;
and me not there
to be lonely with you.

Forgive me,
if some girls have hurt you;
and made you feel undeserved.
Trust me, I understand your pain;
for I too have been with men
whom I loved only for hopes that
one of them is finally you.

But none of them was you.

Because You are still there,
And me too here,
crying, hoping, waiting.

But I would like to ask you,
like me;
Keep looking.

And if we will be hurt
again and again,
with wrong people,
that is only because
we have not found each other yet.

But please, take heed;
I know, when us finally meet
we will work together,
to put ourselves back again.
Our love shall heal each other
as if we have not been lonely,
as if we have not been hurt before.
Our love shall thread the holes
in our hearts,
Our hugs shall glue the the broken pieces of us.
Our kisses shall profess that in each other's arm;
We received the love we deserved.

Your love,

    * ---qyf
rebuke me for my grammar. Thank you.
When two broken hearts
find each other,
is that love's

What really is it? :)
No Greater Assault There Is
Than The Assault Of
Insincere Kindness.
leaving me,
is me
finding myself -
at last, free!

Eyes were sunken, weary to cry
Why, his heart grew sullenly dry
For years, I tilled and toiled the land
Even if what I got were cuts and wounds on my hand

Sowed the seed yet rain did not come
He knew I watered it with tears and did all that I can
I had waited like a farmer for the seed to sprout
I had been steadfast in hope in a midst of drought

Never did I see him shed a sweat
What he did is to insult me and hurt
When he intentionally let the weeds grow
And watered it instead

How then can love grow and blossom in a barren land?
All my hardships were wasted and buried beneath the ground

The farmer suffered under the heat of the sun
And is rewarded with his crops after all he had done
But me, I suffered the loss of everything in myself
And after I wrought for love to bloom, I reaped none but grief

I had shed my every drop of love
To an unworthy person, who loves me not
Now hatred ploughed and rooted in my heart
I know, in due season, he shall reap his part
--- Queenie Y. Florentino

*will be very occupied with my post-graduate research.
Before you go
give me the
pieces of my
broken heart;


may be,
may be,


someone will come
and will try to
patch me.

- qyf
Was once had written
enough love poems
for him.
Yet now, his absence
occupies the empty slate,
and love falls on spaces
where I could no longer
feel its weight.

I need but to bite the bullet,
unless I will let it hit me
straight in the head,
and watch myself,
blood pooled,
I behold the
promises as
your lips curve
for a kiss.

And watch it
as your lips too
shut satisfied.

I am only a wine
you long for
when your heat is

But I will let you,
to drink me.

After all,
I am a finest wine,
fermented with
years of  broken promises.

- qyf
- argh. Of broken promises.
The only masterpiece
that captivates me so much is
the beauty that unfolds
once your lips curve.

To the one who tickles my heart.
And I finally said,
"I want to be a fan.
A ceiling fan to be specific.

I would just be overhead of them
And would keep my duty in spinning,
Until they will be accustomed
of my presence,

Like it is the air that only existed.
Or they will notice me only
if I am a bit strong
or a bit too weak."

the chickens keep bawk-ing
bawk bawk bawk
their pointless views, and
having each other
roasted in the end.

The way he looks at me,
with magnificence and praise
Slices my heart to bleed
in hopes that,
May his love
looks at me
the same way
his lusts do.

But the truth is:
While his eyes worship me,
His heart sees me as nobody.

- qyf
#costsofbeinginlove #passion #nolove #pain
Dive into the ocean
And be not drown
But tame its wave
And be its friend.

Criticisms are welcomed warmly over praise
For it demands bravery to say it
While the latter, most often
Is given by the half-hearted lips.**

--- qyf
And this is always true. though criticisms come with pain. I'd rather deal with it than be a fool to celebrate over their praises of which lacks sincerity.
was broken
in loving
a fool
in full.

How wrong it is to equate darkness to loneliness.
There are happiness the broad daylight could not give,
and only to be found beneath the shadows of the night
where souls gather in feast
and allowed to be free and wild.

*--- qyf
Dear feet,

Bring me to places where my heart will be tried; my mind be blown; my faith be tested; my reason be questioned.

I want my life to be a worthwhile walk. That after all the devastations you brought me in. And the cuts you got where the blood spilled.
I could write on this uneasy ground,

"I have had a hard one, but at least, I fought to live and was not defeated."

I gave you
all the love
I could give.
And you took
all the love
when you left.
Even that love,
that love I
reserved for myself.

Loving is a win or drain situation. Mostly, it's the latter.
Fairy tales are stories
of how I imagined
the two of us
could have been.

But well,
this is how we end:
but in different realms.

But definitely,
if only,
I'd wish for a twist.  

- qyf
"You are my star,"* said he
"I am a star that fell from the sky
to dwell with you,
and lost my light
to share darkness with you."

**- qyf
- to Elson, the love of my life. Who makes darkness the most colorful of all.
Let us settle this with:
You do the looking down at me
and I do the looking up.

Find what makes you happy
but first
find yourself.

- qyf
How can one
attain a lofty education
yet still remains
disparagingly a fool.

- qyf
Unfaithful friends
be like your footprints

"They are to be left behind."

doesn't end,
just that,
it never comes.
And it haunts
the heart that hopes,
that it does,
that it will.

- qyf
I found myself
lost in
his arms.

Love abounds
when I,
gave all to him

- qyf
What would you do
if the things you do
are undoing you?

- qyf
"The more the light ignites within,
the more I could see the holes
from where it dispels."
i am tired;
to strive.
to love.
to live.

i am done,
for today.

And I will keep trying,
to strive.
to love.
to live.

I love you.
Sometimes these words are enough,
and sometimes it is not,
with how complex, or simple,
or how vast, or small
I feel for you.
But this is what I really know,
there is love in my heart
that is only for you.

To be loved by you
is to be sweeping off
the sand from the shore.


He is beautiful in winter
so as in spring, summer and fall.*

I am in-love,
Because I could not say,
nor feel, nor think of
any other words of you than
"I love you."

I just feel you bursting,
pounding within my heart.
And I could not contain you.
That when I think of happiness,
there is you
and there is love.
And of future, there is you,
and there is love.
And of love, there is you.
And when I think of you,
O I am just like,
"My very own love."

It has been a long time.
I was having a hard time remembering my password. :)
Funny, isn't it?
where have you been?
I am **** tired
pacifying my relentless heart
and you there
hiding from afar,
watching me
eager to find you.

Come out now, I plea.

The fire
That was lit
On our first
Hi and Hello
Had been
With our last
I love you.

My lips miss the taste
of a kiss,
a kiss that comes
from your lips.

Let the pen birth
a new poem spring
that of which is raw
and cuts deep through;
that of which in tradition
does not conform;
that of which words bend souls.

Let the paper be not
the seeker of praise
but let it be the keeper of tears
that which fall
occasionally unnoticed.

Let the ink run beyond meters,
rhythms, or lines.
Let the words laugh,
let it cry, live or die.

Above all, let the poem be free
for that is how it is
supposed to be.
© Queenie Y. Florentino

Let art liberate, not restrict.
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