Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
her
Pam Dayao Jan 2017
her
don't be fooled by those delicate brown eyes, sometimes you'll feel her stares crawling at the back of your neck.

it doesn't stop there. she'll take your heart, your mind and breath away. ethereal. unbelievably existing.

quick, but it's the truth you'll need.

then you'll ask yourself: why? why do I need her?

you just do. even if it drives you mad.
11:47pm 1/24/2017
Pam Dayao Dec 2016
I am deaf.

I am deaf when people bring up a traumatizing or embarrassing moment and tease me about it; when people think it's okay because it's just a "joke."

I am deaf when people point out my insecurities; my crooked teeth, my unruly hair, my body and the scar on my forehead: the things I can't control about myself.

I am deaf when people use my gender against me, ostracize me on things because I am a girl; when they think I am only living to cook, clean and make myself pretty, when they use the line: "Kababae **** tao..."

I am deaf when people mock my faith and shame me for my principles, the things I believe in and what I fight for; when they say "eh di wow" "dami **** alam" or such.

I am deaf when people tell me they will leave or I should leave, saying I am "too much" or "I don't give enough;" when people make me feel inadequate and dismiss me over petty reasons.

I am deaf when people pick on me, use my past and mistakes against me; when people fail to see who I am, and what I am today.

**I am deaf, but my heart hears it all.
Pam Dayao Dec 2016
mirror, mirror.

who remembers the way your eyes smile, the way it twinkles when something interests you?
who remembers the way your lashes flutter, the way your cheeks redden when someone compliments you?
who remembers the way you bite your tongue, holding a laugh the anyone can hear?
who remembers the way your nose crinkles, when annoyance spreads all over your face or whenever you're in tears?

who remembers?

for 18 years you've been trying to be liked by everyone; someone.
for 18 years you've been trying to find who you are and you are still not found.
for 18 years you've been trying to fill the emptiness; the void inside your heart.
for 18 years you've been trying to leave a mark but not even a scratch was found.

but i assure you, there will be a turning point in your life.

everyone will remember your kind words and beautiful soul; how it changed and made someone hang on.
everyone will remember that smile on your face; how it resembles the sun at 6am.
everyone will remember the warmth of your touch; how it made someone, somehow, feel everything's going to be fine.
everyone will remember you; the flower that is on a process of blooming.

mirror, mirror. will i be remembered?*

yes, you will be. for the next 60 years of your life or so.
just me talking to myself
12/16/16
Pam Dayao Jul 2017
you have me,
but i'm not sure
if i have you, though.

i paused.
it's thirteen minutes past twelve in the morning and i was on top of you. your steady breaths and the ticking of the clock was all i can hear. a sweat trickled down my bare chest as you stare longingly. the moans and the word 'faster' didn't fill the room anymore.

"what's wrong?" you asked.

every night is a bittersweet reality, something that i would think of as a chimera full of used underwear.  every night is a catharsis; i knew, the way 'babe' escaped from your lips arousingly when i go further tells me so. every night our souls would crash briefly, but every tomorrow i see myself on the mirror and the word 'temporary' is etched on my face. you ****** your way into my heart, that's what's wrong and i didn't even know it. i was too caught up with the thought of your tongue exploring my restless body.

you paused, placed me on your side, and stood up.

tonight, you smoked away the last stick of hope i had on the side of my bed; where you reside after everytime we did it. tonight, you're moving out.

you'll always have me, but i'll never have you, though.
hi! my first time to ever write something as explicit as this. this is my work for my creativity class for our literary folio. can't wait to post more works after months of being inactive. thanks for sticking by
Pam Dayao Dec 2016
the world hated her laugh, it was incredulous. it sounded like a dying radio, waiting for its battery to be replaced.

she drenches her face of tears every night; wishing that things could be better tomorrow,
or the next day,
or the day after that.

she was taut and stood firm, but she trembled from time to time. her words were content, but her eyes speak otherwise.

the world hated her laugh, because no one can hear it anymore.

faint, slowly dispersing.
12/8/2016
zzz
Pam Dayao Jan 2017
zzz
sleep isn't for the weak.

sleep is for those who hear "I love you" on a regular basis. sleep is for those who can intertwine their fingers with their significant ones. sleep is for those who can feel the warmth of a hug. sleep is for those who have someone to stay up with them at night to talk about aliens, indie music and politics. sleep is for those who have someone to admire them, even at their bedhead. sleep is for those who feel content, comfort and worth.

sleep isn't for those who stay up at night waiting for a good night call. sleep isn't for those who wait for a reply to the message they sent 3 days ago. sleep isn't for those who write long-*** poetry to someone who won't even read them. sleep isn't for those who cry at night, wishing they were enough. sleep isn't for those who think they don't deserve it. sleep isn't for those who have loved and will never be loved.

*go to bed, self.

— The End —