I think the saddest part of breaking up for me is the day where you pack all his things, gave one last hug to his sweater, once was your favorite and perhaps still is, giving a last look at all the memories and feeling all the sentimental emotions when your skin touches those items. And the saddest part too is when you saw their mother in the streets days, weeks, months or years later, and you have to brave yourself to say a Hello and found yourself thinking about the times you and her could have been in a deeper bond but that may never happen, for now. And it is also when you felt the knot in your stomach and the lump in your throat when you tried your best to fake an answer when people asked you how’s the two of you been doing. Nothing easy came before, during and after the breakup, especially when it ended but only on the base, yet the love is still in there somewhere.

-cp

Lying
Is easier without eye contact.
In a text message,
You can say anything,
And they'll never know.

Yes, I read your letter,
No, I haven't cut recently,
Yes, I'm taking my meds,
No, I'm not thinking about killing myself.

They like to hear that last one.
No, I'm not thinking about killing myself.
But it's never the truth.
I am always thinking about killing myself.
Not like I'm thinking about going to work tomorrow,
But like I think that I could be a mermaid.
Sure, I'm probably not going to be a mermaid,
But it sounds like a nice escape sometimes, doesn't it?

No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile

readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,  
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...

a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on,  shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.

sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words,  a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....

a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...





Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    January 29, 2017