an ellipsis; three dots
to some, it is a pause,
others, a fragmented speech,
an omission of words

i find myself bemused...
how an ellipsis reflects my being;
a mystery difficult to be construed
for what is this ellipsis' meaning
but all the words left unsaid...

sincerely, ileana.

i long to find solace; a resting place,
nothing is heavier than the wishes i have
to have you back here,
to have one last hug,
to know that losing you is just a nightmare
i have yet to wake up from by tomorrow.

it weighs heavy in my soul
to bleed in restless poetries;
and like i am - hopeless & falling into pieces,
this heaviness inside keeps digging an empty hole.

IA

you may or may not find this,
in the middle of the night
or on a rainy sunday afternoon.

my mind runs rampant,
while my heart is still,
because i realized what love is
at the very least, a fragment of it;

love looks past flaws and chaos,
past the foreseeable risk & damage,
and i know i did amidst it all
leaving no room for me to regret.

i know i tugged your soul
towards a better light, a better day
because i stayed with you at your worst
and now remain bewildered when you say
you've changed for the better.

forgive a heart that wavered,
i used to think love is a home;
we always move someplace better
when all the heart feels is nothing but homeless.

i had to unlearn that.

to venture love as strength,
to lose and find oneself over
and over again & be better;
because lost is a lovely place
to find oneself,
and to begin again.

and as i bid you my final farewell,
i'd like to let you know
that i'll tuck the memories within,
hold them dearly and know deep in myself;
i have loved and i have no regrets.

and i will love again,
break again,
get lost again,
find myself & begin again.

IA

love is the way
of the brave &
of the fools.

IA

other people defined love but she said,
"love is remembering the first time and how
you fall in love with that person,
everyday and even on the tough times.
it's not supposed to be a battle,
for love gives and understands.
it's waking up each day grateful
for love and your person;
whom you never wish to part from
to find your worth somewhere else."

IA

hello grief, my good old friend
wrap me in your heavy arms
as i sit in this emptiness

IA

love conquers all,
but it requires a mightier feat
with time who tells what will befall.

IA

these are the nights, the late hours
relentlessly dripping into flawed poetries
pondering about love and scratching old scars.

IA ☕

i tried to say goodbye to my grief,
the thing that has made a home
inside of me;
the mother of my craft,
the suffering i cherish.

but now i know,
she is a tenant of permanence,
inside me, she is a remnant
of both love and memory.

sincerely, ileana.

some concretes break,
for a wildflower to thrive.

IA

what if the things that breathed life
into this monster inside me
are the hearts that i've mended
at the expense of my own?

or perhaps, the cruelty of this world
which constantly blew
the small flame of hope within me?

what if the reason
this monster continuously grows
is because i have never embraced it,
accepted it, and love it as it is?

because all monsters ever needed
was to be loved & not be feared —
because fear is the twin sister of hatred.

IA

i walked into a place named 'love';
while i was young, naïve, and recklessly filled with wonder,
"heart is still fragile but let her in to learn", a voice said.

i stood in the middle, a little lost
"how did you know how to love?" i asked a passerby,
"nobody does, they just do", answered the creature,
and so i ventured the corners for a long time at watch.

"maybe we could venture it out together,"
young soul, those words made my heart flutter
like serendipity, it made living worthy and better
time flew with no end in sight to ponder;

and i believed all love was good,
but wrong ones end for good
"you love a little too much," was the reason
but is there ever too much or a boundary of enough,
for lovers to strangers is a miserable transition

"some people have to grow apart,"
and so i picked the shattered fragments part by part,
"i never knew young love has an inevitable end,
all i did was love, but here i am now, hell-bent."

"there's a sign at the front door most people ignore;
'right time, right love, before the right person',
but everyone recklessly walks right through, looking so sure,
thinking love is all good until the wrong kind turn them into fractions."

IA

no matter how much
or whatever i use or do
to gloss over this restless grief,
all i could feel is this lump in my throat,
the simultaneous heaviness and emptiness,
and my crippled being hopelessly yearning
for your warm embrace as my grieving heart's rest.

IA

most poets seem to be too drunk in love,
vomiting out words as their heart throbbed

while i was one who stayed sober,
after a few bad hangovers;
writing as i clutch a bottle of wine to cope,
maybe next time, i'll pour it onto a glass of hope.

IA ☕

we both ran in circles,
chasing each other
like the sun and the moon.

upon waiting for our meeting,
we finally collided into an eclipse;
one takes over the other,
and the whole world stopped to watch.

the lovers' eclipse only lasts for a while
and as we bid our goodbyes,
we slowly part as we then again,
run around in circles until we meet again.

IA

what most people try to look for,
but it's a tunnel vision;
meant to limit one's complexity.

IA ☕

Wrath is an ugly, chaotic beast we often refuse to unleash

It wreaks havoc underneath the devilish horns,
No one could tame it, nor a muleta in the owner's hands

From the depths of ourselves, where it quietly resides in the darkness
It often feeds on the dismantled version of our emotions,
on the distortions love caused about to our hearts,
on the insecurities and bigotries of this cruel world

Wrath chooses who tames it, who soothes its chaos down
It could be the devil's love who brings him back to his senses,
or the undeniable satisfaction of having caused destruction and loss and irrevocable regrets,
We often refuse to unleash the beast, because it often does what cannot be undone.

IA

a man appeared in my dream last night;
a kind soul and his features were clear,
a fragile heart tugged, i know i'm not his dear
i woke up, wanting to hold him tight.

IA

what would it be like if we run the world?

all love, all chaos, all mess of fragmented thoughts & emotions
contained in an individual entity; all moving in a unified direction.

IA ☕

beneath all the stillness,
is an underlying ache and madness.

IA

love knows no bounds
when the logic retreats,
and a beating heart is found.

IA

Coffee sessions at 0219 St. Café,
Past 4 PM in the afternoon,
Flipping the rattan-made tissue holder,
"What's our case for today?"

Hours would go on for stories and opinions,
About our lives we all have yet fathomed.

It would start with no "Hello's" or "Hey's"
But "café later?" and "No" wasn't an answer,
Friends exist to have your back,
and for coffee and life discussions.

In a slow yet seemingly rapid motion of time,
No more greetings or invites or even goodbyes,
the usual café across the street was taken down,
Before anyone knew, we were walking down separated roads, it was a slow fade.

A lovely, comprehending friendship and frequent coffees,
all wrapped up with an invincible quiet farewell,
Worse than a bleeding heartbreak without any anesthesia,
I hold my composure up for such bittersweet ruins.

IA

i would welcome it with a warm mug of coffee,
venture its entirety beyond what i could see,
wrap my soul's arms around it, never to let it go,
for cynical pain was death and chaos,
and i have learned that to live was to love and grow.

IA

when hope drains out like a soul moving out of a body,
it is difficult to walk a path with purpose and steady

when love becomes a baneful burden,
there goes a slit in a wrist, and deep, dark eyes swollen

when faith blurs and requires mere senses to see,
death waves at the doorstep, and life seems to does flee

when the demons take over,
I am dragged down to hell
into the deep pits, seemingly detrimental forever
but I am a dichotomy that neither likes fair-hell or farewell

IA ☕

in the vast majority of galaxies,
and written down histories
I think it's beautiful we exist in the same era;
weaving tales of friendship, love and ephemera.

IA ☕

The Devil wears a condescending Crown of Aristocracy.

Behind the beauty of the aristocracy he led,
and sometimes romantic and eventful lives he savored,
lies a darker story: a legacy of deception, violence and unrepentant greed.

An aristocrat whose ground are his virtues and talents and pain,
Pouring one mischievous ingredient after the other,
All for a play of exploitation and influence,
The Devil has passion, but barely a soul, thus an erroneous aristocracy he rules over.

He was beautiful and ******;
Blemished in earthly pleasures and loss of his prodigious being,
The Devil lacked emotion and acted upon logic until he lost his heart,
His crown was adorned with half lamentation, half echoes of his past, out of dark menaces.

IA