i'm beginning to think i'm more hurt than i've allowed myself to feel.

there seems to be no words anymore.
whether beautiful or painful,
they have all become a blur—
smudged ink on paper.
what feels like my own handwriting
i can no longer recognize.

when did i write this?
poetry—
i used to believe
was what saved me.
but what happens
when i run out of words?
and yet still remember
how "love" was spelled so similarly
to your name
that i could never have told
the difference?

i cannot hold a pen anymore
without wishing
it was your hand in its place.
but it's empty,
this page.
and yet,
somehow—
i'm still bled dry in the end.

i have saved a place
for you in my heart
and it may need
a bit of dusting
because my heart
was never clean
and it has long since
been empty
the day you walked away
but please know
that i have saved a place
for you in my heart
tell me when you're ready
because if i'm honest
you've been welcome
from the start

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a ****,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

daw hindi magpakita
sa akon ang katuyo
diri sa dulom
daw ako man kadumdom
sa pila ka tion
nga ako gapanago

hindi na pagpugsa
ipiyong ang mga mata
kay wala man pinagbag-o
kung ako bulag
sa kalipay o sa gugma

na-anad na sa lamig
sa ulunan nga basa
gadugay lang ang mga tuig
ako lang diri gyapon isa

talagsa na lang gid
katilaw sang pahuway
basi di ko gutom amo kabudlay

gihulid ko na ang pala
di gyapon ko katulog

makutkot na lang ko asta ma-aga

i will need to learn
how to stop hurting
over the things
that i will never be

it is hard sometimes
for wounds to heal
when you keep
picking at them

and i am all wounds
and no scars
open and burning
festering with decay

i have tried so hard
to be the type
that is bright
and radiant with light

i never realized
how much i have ached
for something
that cannot be

a life that is spent
wasted on inadequacy
i will never learn
how to be worthy

yearning
is a silly
foreign thing
when you
haven't wanted
anything
in ages

look at me
so full
of wishes
yet laid bare
of hope

never
did i learn
to want
what i
did not
deserve

never
did i dare
to reach
for the moon
when all
i did
was stare at it
from down here

i cannot
blame myself
for never
learning
or daring
because
why should i
when
i should have known
the moon
was unattainable
in the first place