February 23 2012
Will there ever come a time we’ll part and drift, like woods and logs surging in the waves of the ocean, free flowing to destiny? Fear encompassing every ounce of our soul that someday this reality is merely a dream of the distant past, a reverie that left us.
A decade-old unsent love letter with a withered rose beside it, drops of ink smudged and dried on the margins. A photograph worth a thousand unspoken words lying on the bedside table.
Will I ever walk alone the path where footsteps of strangers resonate against the bowl of cloudy blue sky above us? Footsteps untraced from the past and into the faint future, once clear yet now laced with fog and mist from sighs of doubt each stranger breathes before each step into the journey.
A ruffled curtain swaying with the afternoon wind, draining the excess sunshine. A sweet scent of vanilla from the spilled perfume bottle on the floor.
Will you remember me once I fly away from you? Will you chase me once I run? Will you wrap me in your embrace and remember me forever?
A sleeping angel and before you wake up, while the sunlight caresses your face like I once had, before you wake up, I whisper into your ears, “Only you, my darling, only you.” And I kissed your cheek.
A gunshot resonated.
02.23.2012 | 3:24 PM
February 19 2012
She was walking along the street under the rainy Friday afternoon clouds. Her physics class was cancelled due to the heavy rain.
“Chotto matte yo!” someone was calling her from behind.
She stopped and turned. She saw the familiar face of a boy, running under the rain to catch up with her.
“Can I share with your umbrella?” the boy had reached her and was walking beside her.
“Like I have a choice,” she replied.
“I’ll hold the umbrella in return,” he offered.
They continued to walk. Several minutes had passed.
“Do you like rainy days?” she asked the boy.
“Of course, I don’t. It’s such a hassle. Isn’t it obvious? I’m soaked!” he replied.
A minute of walking silently.
“I like it when it rains,” she said.
“Really?” he inquired.
“Yes, I like the cold feeling it brings. The way it washes away everything, leaving it anew. Best of all, when it rains no one will know I’m crying. The rain makes a perfect camouflage for lonely souls.”
He stopped walking and threw the umbrella aside. They were getting soaked in the rain.
Suddenly, he kissed her on the lips.
From then on, she was no longer the girl under a melancholic rain.
I wrote this when I was a high school senior, that would be around 2006/2007-ish. The time when writing and reading fan fictions was the fad among my friends and I. Hahahaha!
*Chotto matte yo! = (Jap.) Wait up!
February 18 2012
I’ll bathe under the sunlight. Perhaps the too-hot afternoon rays caressing my face could make me forget how once your smile was as bright as the sun everytime our eyes met. Your eyes which looked liked twinkling stars on the night sky, sometimes bare, sometimes against a glass like trapped in a glass dome to preserve its beauty. But they shine exceptionally bright when you smile, like finally the night sky and the afternoon sky could be as one, though a scientific impossibility it may be.
Or perhaps a gust of wind could blow and cover my face with a flock of hair you once said you loved and missed. It will block the face which once had you as the reason for its smile and laughter, frowns and tears.
Or perhaps I could grasp the grainy sands in my hands, those which you’ve held in a fleeting second, and I could have this certain point in time erased in my memory as the sands seep against my grip.
There are seashells all around the shore. Perhaps I could pick one, put it in my ears and just listen to the imaginary waves of the ocean, drowning away the sound of your laughter, your voice, and the sound of my name upon your lips.
Or perhaps I could just forget you altogether.
02162011 | 12:13PM
January 09 2012
The wind blows and it dances with the wind. Too bad, it’s not an everyday sight. It only appears in goodbyes. It appears during partings. It appears during every start of summer vacation.
I always enjoyed walking down every path stained of yellow as it loses its beautiful petals to render the world of beauty.
I had once been fully mesmerized by its beauty from where I came from where it also appeared only during the start of summer. When I had to go on school breaks and I would not see it anymore.
It bloomed there, in the company of the empty school grounds and the blowing summer wind.
I never expected to see it here again. Perhaps every place that I will come to love would be blooming of its yellow radiance.
I can vividly remember one day after class, I foolishly asked my teacher what’s the name of that beautiful tree that can be seen from our classroom window. I finally knew.
On the last day of my existence in this place, a car horn sounded. I had to go.
But the Golden Showers stayed. Hoping to inspire others as it had inspired me.
I could only hope that there is more of it to where I’m heading next.
I’d surely plant one in my garden someday.
5.29.2011 | 1:55AM
November 01 2011
that sends all the snow around me to melt and vanish into thin air,
one that keeps me warm on the dawn that the rain is pouring down so hard,
one that keeps the light on my lamp as I read every night before going to bed,
one that keeps the glow on the candle on the dinner table as the last dessert has been served,
one that bakes cookies and cakes,
one that roasts coffee beans,
one that lights cigarettes,
one that you get after drinking alcohol,
one that keeps the lampposts glowing to illuminate dark alleys,
one that gives light to fireflies every night,
one that ignites the fireworks every new year’s eve,
one that molds and hardens steel,
one that sustains the warmth needed to keep blood flowing,
one that maintains the life among living things,
one that keeps the summer coming back every year,
one that keeps the sun rising.
It’s the burning sensation that gets everyone singed once in a while to keep hearts from being frozen.
October 27 2011
but they’re back invading my heart. Their fluttering wings colliding with the walls I long ago set up to protect my heart, with each motion it echoes your name.
And the songs playing in the wind whispers your laughter. I hear it with every whistle the trees make. And its sound has never left my ears ever since the first time I heard it.
And all these while, I had been hiding behind the vines of the forest, out of sight from you. But you never left my sight, and your voice never left my hearing. And in my peripheral, while I watch the butterflies spread their wings and fly from each flower, I observe your beauty and greatness like the thunder and lightning in the sky; beautiful yet destructive. I have to hide to avoid being destructed by these entangled emotions while admiring your magnificence.
I will admire the rose, but I will keep my distance to avoid the thorns.
10.24.2011 | 2:59 AM
September 17 2011
You make the butterflies sitting idly on my tummy flutter their wings and fly all over my heart. You disturb the peace and serenity I once had. You stirred my mind with endless thoughts of you. My thoughts which were once sailing smoothly over the course of reality and its own dreams, when you existed and engraved your image upon my mind, the sail detoured to what would be the roughest sail the stirred waters and its waves could provide. You make blood rush over my cheeks. You steal the words off my lips. I get speechless when it comes to you, perhaps because you are worth more than my words could describe you. I can’t think straight that I get tongue-tied, I lose all logic I could ever possess. After such disturbance, my mind eventually shuts off and all I could hear is my heart beating. It’s not beating to keep me alive, it’s beating fast for you. It’s beating too fast I’m afraid it would stop any time soon. It’s not beating fast to sustain my life, it’s beating so fast I could probably die from such intensity when it’s only my heart that’s working as I lose all my senses along with your existence. And with your non-existence, I won’t get my reasons and logic back, but instead I’d probably lose the only thing that I have; my heart, which you’ve already taken with you.
You probably have no idea, but all of this is because of you.
September 11 2011
Shattered into millions of pieces too many to imagine, each piece sparkling against the heat of the morning sun, the kind of heat that would melt sugar crystals away, taking all the sweetness with it and leaving only bitter trails of the once sweet caramel syrup….
Where does time go when it passes me by?
What happens when I refuse to go with it?
When I choose to live in the trail and footprints that it left behind?
Does that mean I cease to exist in the reality that everyone’s living in while I choose to bask in the droplets time left behind…
…but aren’t rainbows created from droplets left after the rain has gone?
But until how long would it have to rain before I see the rainbow?
September 10 2011
These little buds I planted in the woods will soon blossom into the most beautiful Violets anyone has ever seen. And their radiance will reverberate throughout the whole forest and the wind would blow the softest whispers of the sweetest words for the most beautiful Violets it has ever laid eyes on. And after it blossoms into beauty during summer, it will wither away with autumn. But it will be forever cherished by everyone who saw the world in a rosy glow through the lenses of these Violets.
June 10 2011
The curtains and the clothes on the clothesline billowing against the breeze.
Softly blowing against the skin, the coldness of the breeze is soothing and calming.
The sound of raindrops seems to send some kind of serenity within.
The leaves are being washed anew. And the dews left after the rain, aren’t those just so beautiful?
Each raindrop contains a radiance that glows within the sight of those who see through it.
Perhaps instead of a nuisance, the rain is actually a miracle.
June 09 2011
it’s almost blinding. I put my hand up against the air, filtering the passing sunshine, making shadows fall on my face. But I cannot hold the sunlight, it slips away from my grasp. The early sun is still too bright, passing through the gaps between my fingers. I carefully loosen the ribbons on my lacy curtains, hoping it’s enough to hinder the sunlight. It falls warm against my skin with chilly undertones, the first peek of sunlight after the dawn just left. The first ray of the sun after it has risen.
Breakfast is waiting for me. I put my quill down, the parchments containing unspoken words are falling on the floor. I won’t bother picking it up, it could wait until I get back. Perhaps, it could even find its way to the mailbox and eventually on someone’s doorstep.
No morning would ever be complete without a cup of coffee. Though I wake up early, my still-sleeping spirit needs to be awakened. I’m still lost in my dreams. Through the years, I still haven’t learned how to concoct the perfect cup, but I always like how my coffee turns out. For me, the coffees I make are perfect. Sometimes it’s too bitter, sometimes it’s too sweet, sometimes it’s bordering between both, yet far from perfection as others would judge, but I still drink it up to its last drop. Today, my coffee lacks sweetness. The taste of bitter crystals, melting into tiny inseparable particles with each stir of the clock, like wine. Stirring my concoction, I know no amount of coffee could wake me up from my dreams.
And I wish that this ethereal yet ephemeral dream would last longer.
An incessant ethereal throbbing. I know it will.
June 08 2011
but I’ll stay here. In this reverie of lost words and phrases, hoping to find its way into reality someday. I’ll stay here, with the wind, with the flowers, swaying the tides of time away. With every turn of season, a new beginning awaits, a new journey begins, a new petal falls, a tree stands stronger than it had been a year before. The tides of time will stain each canvas with colors of rust and passed eras. The same notes will be coming out of the violin playing the melody of passing time. The piano being played by the wind, each melody more beautiful than the other, the same pattern of notes and keys. The clouds will be shading the grassland from the harsh rays of the sun, the bouquet quietly whispering expressions of gratitude only nature could understand, but it will be seen throughout the blooming season. The same voices will be heard as the ones heard in beginnings and endings, in hello and in goodbye. Throughout the changing times, one thing will remain the same. But it will be a secret until the time has reached its end, and until I can sway with the changing seasons, the tides of the passing time, unchanged.
The seasons will come and go, the seasons will change, just the seasons.
June 04 2011
to say the things I cannot put into words, or things there are actually no words for? Would it be left flowing down the cheeks, or would it eventually be stopped? Would it be enough to ease things which had been tightly contained? Would it be enough to wash clean blurry eyes? Would it be enough to drown into? Would it even be enough to let the tears flow and cry? It could be a universal language everyone could understand, but it would still be inadequate, and no one would understand it better than the owner of the eyes from where the tears are flowing from.
June 01 2011
But don’t stir, let it sit at the bottom of the glass. Let these crystals melt, and blend on their own.
It’s the best companion to bring with a book, or with a dessert. Or just alone.
No, I don’t blame my sleepless nights to this brown creamy liquid. Nor do I blame the way I palpitate to this too.
It’s known to alleviate pain, alongside various pills and drugs.
A cup, or two, or three. Store bought or homemade. It’s just all the same.
Add one hundred sugar cubes more.
Add forty three ounces of milk.
It’s still not sweet.
Drink up, find out.
It eases the pain as its bitterness takes over.
And even If someone offers me a cup of sweet tea in exchange of my bitter unstirred coffee,