My mommy made a promise when I was young. She told me that she’d do everything to protect me, that she’d do everything to keep me safe. She swore with all her heart and strength that she’d fight for me with all her life.

She did fight with her best.

She fought with her all.

She gave it all she’s got.

She did manage to push back all my tears just before they would fall; sometimes they even climb back to hiding behind when she smiles. Even sobs turn to laughter at her presence.

Heck, I never felt down. She kept keeping me up.

She fought the winning fight. Beaten away sadness, and boxed out regret, she made shame feel sorry. I never even knew doubt, of course because I was sure she was there for me.

I never knew any counter weapon that could ever out power her smile, or her hugs or her forehead kisses –nothing could ever beat her forehead kisses.

She won ‘til the very end.

Then she lost.

I guess it’s kind of too ironic now. I hated it with all my heart before.

I hated the fact that when my protector disappeared, I was left bare for every new stranger, sadness… regret… shame… doubt…

All the tears that she kept pushing back, they finally escaped.

I didn’t even have any idea before that there’s this pool of raining kept up at the surface of my wrists just waiting to be freed—

I hated her.

I hated her for always winning.

I hated her for always trying so hard.

I hated her for fighting—

Ironic is it not? Now here I am making that same promise to you.

Seeing you cry so much, so devilishly much, I couldn’t really help it. I couldn’t help but remember all the times I cried without my mommy smiling to hush me; I couldn’t help but recall all the tears that fell from my eyes then, how I waited, crying, how I prayed crying, how I foolishly tried to fake all my smiles for the first few  months, still crying… Just vainly waiting for her to stop my tears from falling.

I couldn’t help but stop it.

It was all that I could do. It was the best that I can do.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

I swear that I’d do everything to protect you. I’ll do everything to keep you safe. I swear with all my heart and soul that I’d fight for you with all my life.

And, my son, I’ll never leave you alone.

I’ll never let another tear pass through your eyelids again, neither will I let another sob from your throat, no, now you’re with me, I won’t let this leukemia I passed along hurt you anymore.

This is the only thing she taught me to do.

Smile.

Hug.

Kiss your forehead.

At least I fought— How I hugged you managed to muffle the deafening beep of your oscillator…

I fought with everything I had.

I fought with all my heart and my strength like my mommy did.

I kept all the tears back inside your eyelids just when they are about to fall. Not even a single drop of blood escaped your wrists too. I think I was able to push back all the shame and regret and doubts in your heart? I hope I did.

I won against fear, at least. I managed to see you smile one last time but—

—I fought ‘til the very end—

Then I lost.

—formula for your endings; for these numbers to fade away, bespeaking something of infinity, i hear you laugh; beside you, i am only counting, continuing.

He shoots... He misses
He shoots... He misses
He shoots... He tagged me.
*******.

I've been expecting you
I've also been avoiding you
But what could I do when I knew that your aim was true?

That's just Cupid

I must confess, more or less, that I'm back in this mess with this little black cloud in a dress.

Walking all over me, running rings around me. Stamping everywhere that you breathe
Bob says "it's good to talk", the old man says "don't be a grass".
I don't know which one to believe.

That's just stupid.

So we decide to talk but it doesn't last long
Soon enough we're shouting. At least the passion isn't gone.

As I fantasize and fight to rationalize
You exercise your right to exorcise.
Honeymoon is over, we got work in the morning.

But honey is still honey, and a bee is still a bee.
So why's she acting like a wasp?! There's stings all over me.

So I mentioned before that I'm back in this mess, but it's my mess and I'll tidy it up alone.
Well of course you will it's your ****** fault. That's it, I'm turning off my phone.

If I had want of anything
In the entire world,
It would be of hands,
That mold clay into shapes.
Shapes that serve a function.
Shapes that piece together,
The fragments of hope,
You forfeit to despair.
For it is hands alone!
That knead tirelessly,
That truly make the world move.
Not wit, charm,
Nor these majestic tapestries of words.