BROKEN

It felt so real, the moment we connected. Life felt more like life for the first time in years. things seemed into place, you were cared, you were thought of, you were dreamed of... you were loved. it's like a stash of dusted lyrics that were finally read, felt and sung.

But it's never easy to maintain that status quo when your heart has been crushed hard in the past it doesn't function the same after. It becomes sensitive to minute details, it gets weaker to impulsive outbursts, it becomes deaf to hurtful words, it simply doesn't hold right. Hence, you break and lose that fragile thing inside.

...only to bleed more in trying to pick up the pieces.

to my teacher

It has been like more than a year or two now, but the unpleasant reminiscence of what had taken place (The enormous stupidity of my actions all for my pathetic, futile, romantic pursuits for someone.) still haunts me every time that person crosses my thoughts, like it was only yesterday or an hour ago. Before, I had been prodded to brave myself with the things I never had the nerve to do if only to fish sense in all the ambiguity swamping me for years; now I feel like the worst person through all this, that had I only remained along the shore, I wouldn't have lost that pinch of friendship I had with that person-- the only person who had made me embrace each day with so much eagerness and want to get better in everything I did or do, but then again they say the shore is only for people you don't love enough.
You know, life has been quite heavy after all this. It seems like I am always hovered with a sense of loss, that however I try to blend myself with the mirth and pleasantries around me, I still find myself empty. Maybe because deep inside I know that I wreaked a lot of unpleasant things to someone; the obtrusion, the presumptions, the disrespect and everything else that fanned that burning loath, which till now I still plead sorry. It had never been in me to do those things I initiated, to bombard someone with things I believe is possible or real, but for the first time I did. Perhaps it was because I was blinded by the intensity I couldn't contain inside that indeed had me the propensity to break my façade and unearth the substance inside, something I will forever regret not because I loved a person so much, but because I made that person hate me only because, "What you call sin, I call the great spirit of love, which takes a thousand forms."
Time may pass, words may turn into a redundant weave of pleas and the pulp of all this may wither into oblivion, but the desires of my heart will always remain the same─that one day I will see your smile for me again, that one day your forgiveness for me will find its way to your heart; and that one day MY TEACHER, we can be friends again as if you never knew I loved you more than that.

still you

This is crazy, unwinding after the day's topsy turvy journey, basking the porch with tea and poetry, letting loose in contemplation of life's metaphors and hyperboles only to find myself swamped with thoughts about you. It’s like being devoured by a whirlpool, riding a loop that I can never get past of despite my strife to get a grasp of the outside. You are all over me every time I wrestle with the poetic side of my complexity.

If only I could scrape your memory out of my entirety, only then wouldn’t I bleed the moment my pen romances a paper, only then wouldn’t I melt the moment my paintbrush dances on a canvass. You are the clearest picture in my thoughts, the most enduring memory in my subconscious. The contours of your pleasant face, the glimmer of your porcelain skin, the lather of your long satin hair… I can almost smell the scent of your soul coming towards me as you ignite my senses, inflaming the dying ember inside my frozen dream. You are the life ‘neath my metaphors, the mystery that I call in all my apostrophes, the reality that only comes true when I polish my hyperboles. Yes, you are the passion that gels sense into my existence, the wonder that lies in the cryptic twists of my poetries, but then what do you care about all this? I am just a dust in the confines of your world.

Sometimes, I’d rather be drowned with papers trying to beat deadlines if only to break free from the struggles in my mind, the torture in my heart as you invade my solitary intervals; but the second I close my weary eyes to savor my milky tea, vision of you crawls on me like the sweetest temptation blocking the lucid view of reality.

I am just a worn ship amidst the ocean of your fantasy, sailing through the changing hues of horizon... sinking, not by the tall waves nor by the storm, but by the stillness you exude despite my persistent stir.

mind-boggling game

Sauntering the narrow
trails of the woods,
when roses were as perennial
as the grasses of prairie,
you popped out like
a vision from my twilight reverie,
dancing, gyrating with the rustles
of autumn leaves.
I couldn't but succumb to the lure
of your enchanting gestures,
teasing me with your naughty smile
as I drew closer
delighting in the fragrance you
left in the air.

Come now, halt that elusiveness!

I could almost taste the lather in all this.
there was no stopping between
thorny bushes.
Like a moth to a flame,
I was a fool playing your
mind-boggling game
only to lose you at a
second's blink.
The world spinned around me
deciphering the mystery
in every rotation.

Now amidst the ruins
of this denuded castle
where you suddenly
vanished into oblivion
I was a wretched soul
dwelling in each debris
waiting for your vision
to make me whole again.

you are my poetry

Every day, every time,
thoughts about you fill
the tranquil hours I spent
beneath the trees,
in the green gazebo
where I wallow in the poetic
fragments of ordinariness.

I can see you in everything around,
I can smell you in the whiff of
afternoon air frolicking on my face.
You are the ring to which
graceful words course with passion,
the artistry that coats marvels to each
woven line.

Yes, you are the poetry
that rhymes with my heart,
the soul that binds ambiguous words
with heartfelt thoughts, however fragmented.

Eveything always fits somehow.
It's only because I think of you every time.
Otherwise, I don't make sense at all.

wish

wide awake, i lay on the
furry grasses of summer,
thinking with the stars,
waiting for one to fall
so i could wish that perhaps
i'd see you like a vision
in the fog,
when i would not have to stop
nor think
but succumb to my
unadulterated instinct

on moving on

Current mood: sentimental

One fine morning,
a man was strolling
along the shore;
with a tranquil mileau around,
comfort enveloped him.
His soul seemed like rejoicing
with the enormous sense of space
as he unraveled himself-
sat on the sand
and let his thoughts wander.
Like waves to the shore,
words came rushing
without encumbrances.

Nature stirred him inside.
For a second or two,
he ceased thinking
but feeling
and let its depth
move his pen.
Every stroke,
every scribble
soaked in intermittent tearsdrops,
spoke of a long-kept emotion
now gone unbridled.

He rolled the paper,
sealed it in a bottle
and threw into the ocean
HIS OLD SELF.