Bukas

Siguro dapat di na niya kinamusta, 'edi sana hindi niya naranasan makarinig ng kasinungalingan. Ayan ang mahirap sa isang tao na masyadong maalalahanin, akala niya lahat ng katanungan pwedeng itanong. Walang preno. Wala ng dalawang isip. Wala ng pag-iingat. Walang pero o kung ano pa man.

Bukas makalawa makikita mo na lang na napagiwanan na siya ng panahon, sadlak sa sarili niyang riyalidid na umiikot na lang sa salitang "kamusta".

Pero sino tayo para husgahan sila at sino tayo para ikahon sila sa ganung kalagayan? Pag lubog ng araw,  didilim rin ang kalangitan at lahay tayo iisa lang ang hangarin, ang masilayan ang liwanag ng mga buwan at bituin kahit alam nating bukas andiyan pa rin naman sila.

Throwback

I always catch myself scrolling and stealing glances at your world.

It helps me to convince myself that we're over and that you are not good for me. It makes me somehow feel better and healed.

Then the next day or so, I will see myself scrolling again.

Just a peek

Seeing the motionless face makes my heart skips a beat.

I wonder how that stagnant moment can stir the entire universe I carefully built.

Can it be similar to a magical connection between the lense and the vision - or a sour addiction that can never be cured no matter what excess attention.

My heart skips a beat with just one silly and childish peek.
Memories will never completely desert me which is quite both charming and alarming.

My heart skips a beat.
That's all I can do and all I can keep.

This is for you

As you see him smiling, your lips goes dry.
As you see him walking away, your day starts to vanish in gray.
As you see him reaching for another star, you see yourself crumbling like a broken skyscraper.

You should know by now. You can see him and his red wine as he tosses his hair, the way he flawlessly did as he emptied a soda. You should know by now that those sweet words he usually kisses are now planted to someone else's apple tinted cheeks.

You should know by now, long before my dear, that his smiles are no longer yours to keep. Not a second belongs to you or your eternal whims. He is now free.

Those pure shirts, white as your hearts desire for him, will be forever tossed to a wooden basket far from your barren bedside's reach.

Those hopes and plans, fairy tales so they seem, are now just part of a strange whisper enclosed in a piece of cloth, worn out and dusty.

Those thousands and a one of letters kept in a fancy box are now but worthless parchments, embedded with rusty words he can no longer remember.

My dear, my heart inside, you should know by now, that your lips are turning dry. Strangely and sadly, you should also know by now, that he can no longer blow you a kiss, not even a tiny scornful goodbye.

My dear, my heart frozen inside, you should know by now that the tears touching and staining your pillows will also run dry, so just let them be, and maybe tomorrow I'll pray ; i'll hope and beg that they may fly to a place where it brings both of us to such no sorrow and gushing pain.