by now, the moon knows that my chest is just a burial ground for this thousandfold of sighs — in their hands, all different ways of my undoing, and i am a breath away from one. you see, some nights are for the softest, gentlest moments of lunacy. some nights, for waging wars and succumbing into these sighs, barely held by the petals tightening around my throat. by now, the moon knows that i had once been a battlefield and it's a pity — growing poems on such an unholy ground, only to fall apart like aster leaves and ancient city walls.

darling, it's getting dark, and this is starting to look less like poetry — and more like spoils of war from inside my head.

And once and for all, I just want someone to tell my whole story to — all my realities and lies, all my lived experiences and suppressed wishes, my secrets, my regrets, my fears, my victories and my losses. I just want someone who’ll keep a record of who I was and who I am, in case I don’t make it — in case all of it fades with me tonight.

Have you ever had the feeling
your heart had just bursted one too many times
maybe this time
it truly won't recover
from the wreckage
but oh my darling it will
your heart was never intended to be collateral damage in the warpath created by those who aren't brave enough to love you
& i'm so sorry they destroyed you in their wake of self destruction
but now the choice is yours
remain down in the dirt
bruised knees and angry tears
or
you can rise up
wipe the ashes from your skirt
piece your heart back together
take back the stolen bits
then keep on walking
until you find somewhere far enough
to remake your story
you have the choice to no longer remain collateral damage
instead
become the damage yourself

i cant describe the feeling of walking down the bridge , the musician playing the most generic song ever,
but for some reason
at that moment it isn't generic.
in fact, its like walking into an air conditioned room after a long day of being in the hot sun, comfortable.
walking down the bridge felt comfortable.
not only comfortable, it felt right
i
felt right
i felt like i belonged,
the wind brushing my hair,
the sun complementing my complexion
i actually felt like i belonged somewhere
i complemented the sun, the sun complemented me,
i have
b l o s s o m ed
my foot is in front of the other, walking and walking,
it felt like i could walk forever
replaying the moment of serenity in my head making me feel
a l i v e
for the first time in forever

How can you know when something or someone is near or far? Or there or here? Is it the gravity felt between the souls of two people destined to be in each other's lives, similar to the moon and the ocean waves? Could it be the same feeling when you know a pair of eyes are on you in a crowded place, waiting to see what is brought upon by the twist of fates? Or maybe it's the pulling red string which stretches from two pinkies, thus binding two hearts together.  

...

I liken loving you to stargazing. On clear nights, the destination and direction--you-- are just as clear. Only the distance as usual, remains vague and vast, filling the space between us. With me reaching out to you, it was more hopeless than a child wishing on shooting stars. There were even times I had to wish for a shooting star; to wish for you falling down and into my arms.

I look for you in the places where I know I'd find you, and even in the places where I know I wouldn't. We're so close, yet so far, with every centimeter between us seeming like an eternity of a mile. You were immoveable, yet it seemed as if you were getting farther with every inch I moved closer to you. Neither my fingers nor my eyes could ever catch you.

And all so suddenly, on one clear night I realized: I didn't, couldn't and wouldn't get my answers to knowing how near or far you are to me.

It's windy tonight. Not a cloud in sight. And the ever-glory of the mass blue sky was dotted once again with the friends of the sky. Guardian of my house, Orion, with his strong, bright 3-starred bow, burns steadily, as opposed to the Ursas of the north, with the bleak Polaris, its light a little faded due to the lights of the northern cityscapes.

I think of you in these circumstances. Whether you'd be looking at the sky as well, trying hard to find the connecting dots. Stay warm under this cool season, alright? I've yet to brush my teeth or even get my blanket and pillow, because I've decided to sleep under the stars tonight, and they're too beautiful for me to even pass a second without looking at them.

Just like how I think about you. My thoughts are still as the stars in the night sky, sometimes bleak and sometimes bold. I hope you never lose your way even if you feel like it. The Polaris will always be guiding you. My thoughts will always be guiding you. For you, I'll be constant as the stars above, so always know that you are loved.

I see your figure hunched over the old grand piano; I see your worn fingers slowly graze the keys which once locked our promises when you used to play me songs.

Now, I only feel the warmth of you as I sit on the piano bench, and when my fingers touch the keyboard. I have never felt any more monotonous and monochromatic than the notes and keys which I effortlessly hit.

I'm playing right, but why do I feel like I'm playing the biggest mistake of a song in my entire life?

What, exactly, is a star? It's made up of so many things. Scientifically, it's a body of gases rubbing off against each other to create friction and heat, thus turning into a ball of bright red or blue light. And as for airplanes, they're the only mode of transportation in the air; once a man's dream, now everday's reality. The airplane can travel to any corner of the world-- how cool and sweet is that?

I see you in airplanes. I imagine them as shooting stars, with me wishing for you. I also see you in the stars, also imagining them to be airplanes which are frozen in time, with who knows where they have traveled to in the past, or where they're bound to fly to.

I love you as the stars, and I love you as the airplanes. I love you either way. No matter how far you are or how far you will go, I know I can always find you out there, free in the skies.

A source of light in the dark. You were there every night, peeking behind the clouds, awaiting my return home from school or work. You may think you're a dull gray color but you shine brightest in the dark, to me.

I wish it was always night so that I'd get to see you in your fullest form-- the last thing before I close my eyes. Even when you're the invisible new moon, I know you're always watching me, giving attention to every big turn I make when I am restless in bed, and down to the tiniest movement under my eyelids when I am deep in a dream.

I want you to know that even if the dark pits of the night swallow you up and you feel like your light is burning out, I will always be here, looking up, looking for you. And looking towards the day when you show yourself and return to my sky again, as the moon that I've grown to love.