Narito ka. Narito ka muli. Narito ka pa hangga’t sa may oras pa tayo. Aalis.

Aalis ka pa ba?

Nariyan ka sa aking harapan, nakaupo, inaantok. Ang hininga mo’y bumagal, humina, ngunit rinig na rinig sa dilim na pumapaligid sa atin. Sa sandaling ito, alam ko, sinta, napakaswerte kong makasama ka. Sobra, sobra, mahal, at mapagpasalamat akong narito ka.

Nakatingin ka lang sa akin, at ako sa iyo, at wala na tayong kailangang iba. Sa katotohana’y, gustong gusto kong haranahan ka, ngunit walang silbi ang gitarang naghihintay sa ilalim ng aking mga braso, sapagkat hindi ko alam kung paano itugtog ang gusto kong itugtog para sa iyo.

Pero hindi iyon sapat. Bakit pa ako magpapatigil? Bakit ngayon, ngayong narito ka at nasa atin ang lahat ng oras sa mundo, at nakatingin ka sa akin nang ganyan. Huminga ako nang malalim, at nang walang iniisip, nagsimulang kumanta.

“Huwag kang matakot,” nanlaki ang iyong mga mata sa aking boses. Mahina man ito, napakalakas niya sa ganitong oras, ganitong lugar. Ngayong may oportunidad akong tignan at mahalin ka, alam kong dapat ko itong magawa. “’Di mo ba alam, nandito lang ako, sa iyong tabi.”

Napangiti ka, nakikinig habang tinuloy ko ang kanta.

“’Di kita pababayaan kailanman. At kung ikaw ay mahulog sa bangin, ay sasaluhin kita.”

Sa sandaling iyon, sinta, hindi mo lang alam, pero malapit nang sumabog ang puso ko; sapagkat mahal na mahal kita at napakaswerte kong makantahan ka ng mga salitang alam kong totoo.

“Huwag kang matakot na matulog mag-isa,” lumaki pa lalo ang ngiti sa mukha mo, “kasama mo naman ako.”

Lumakas ang hangin at kinailangan mong ayusin ang buhok mong lumipad sa mukha mo, at napatigil ako para tumawa, at sobrang saya, mahal, sobrang saya. Hindi mo lang alam.

“Huwag kang matakot na umibig at lumuha,” tinuloy ko, at nakinig ka, nakatingin, nakangiti, “kasama mo naman ako. Huwag kang matakot, ahhh…”

Hindi ko na tinuloy. Hinayaan ko ang huling nota na humaba at dalhin ng hangin papalipad sa ere dahil ang importante’y narito na sa harapan ko na. Dahil wala na akong ibang kailangan pang sabihin, kantahin, tugtugin. Dahil wala na yatang paraan na makakapagpakita kung gaano kitang kamahal maliban pa man sa kung gaano kaliwanag ng mga ningning sa aking mga mata habang nakatingin sa iyo, dahil ikaw lang ang ninanais ko.

Lumipas ang gabi na puno ng mga bulong, at sikreto, at katotohonan, at damdamin. Lumipas ito nang buo ang aking loob at puno ang aking puso – lumipas nang may ilan pang kanta, ang iba may gitara, ang iba wala, ngunit bawat isa ay sinigurado mong sabihing nagustuhan mo.

Gusto kita. Mahal kita.

#filipino #opm #huwagkangmatakot #eraserheads

I have learned to fall asleep in your arms.

That, perhaps, is the most unoriginal sentence I have spoken in my life. But I feel that it needs to be said.

I cannot remember the last time I have had a good night’s sleep. Or, to say the least, healthy. I have learned to fall asleep long after midnight, when my eyes have grown tired from my screen. I have learned to fall asleep at ten in the evening in the middle of the school week even amidst my requirements, purely from exhaustion. I have learned to fall asleep just after dinner after being awake for a day and a half because of an accidental caffeine intake, or in an attempt to fix myself.

But I cannot remember the last time I fell asleep before midnight simply because it was routine. Because my body knew how to. I cannot remember the time my eyes shut with slumber at an acceptable time, not from exhaustion. I cannot remember the last time I had a full night’s sleep without sleeping in until noon.

And then came you.

With you, I have learned to feel safe in your embrace no matter the time, no matter the setting. I do not need the blinding blue from my phone nor the fabricated sounds of nature to feel at peace. The sound of your breathing, I have learned, is all that it takes. And that, perhaps, is the most comforting thought I have in this world.

When it’s late at night, and I am enveloped by your presence in the darkness, I can think to myself: I am home. My being rests in your hands, and you tuck it away the way you pull the comforter over the both of us after turning off the lights, making sure we are swallowed in warmth, and in our love for each other that keeps us together each night. My heart rests in yours, and it is safe. I know it is.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I awaken to your fingers fiddling with mine, and I cannot help but smile. I smile, for you are so beautifully unaware of the mannerisms I chance upon while you are asleep. When the pad of your thumb brushes back and forth over the back of my hand, I think to myself, I am here. Do not worry. We are together and we are safe and we are loved. You are loved. And I slowly fall back to sleep, unconsciously squeezing your hand a little bit tighter until my grasp loosens, but never lets go.

But sometimes it does. Some mornings, I awaken to one of us on the floor, but most days we are an entangled mess of limbs, breaths mingling with each other. And in every sense of the statement, I no longer know where one ends and the other begins.

In the summer time, it is awfully messy with our hair sticking to our necks and our sweat mixing, but we suffer the discomfort together. For we would much rather feel each other’s presence even if it is several inches farther than usual, than not to sleep together at all. And darling, it is these summer mornings that I cherish when we have to be away from each other.

When we are away from each other, I sleep just fine, do not fret. But it’s not the same. No, not all. Because fine does not mean without a worry; for I do worry. When one of us has to visit family, or is away at work, or when we are just not on good terms - no, not even at all - I worry.

I wonder, Are you sleeping yet? Have you eaten? Have you tucked yourself in yet, or are you still stuck on your laptop as usual? I at least wish you have taken off your glasses, because no matter how many times I have had to remind you each night, I still have to do it because you do not listen. You do not listen when I tell you that it is too late for you to still be working, or that sitting in the way that you do will give you back pain later in life, or that I miss you and I wish you were here right now.

That’s right; I worry.

And it is another one of those nights where I wonder these things: Did you remember to turn on the timer on your air conditioner? Have you put on your moisturizer? Is your hair still wet from your night shower, and are you sleeping just fine?

I worry.

I worry if you will ever actually enter my life, for night after night I think of these things and I think of you and I can only hope. I can only hope that one day, all these dreams will be my reality and I will finally rest, knowing that I have been loved all this time. I will rest, and every night will be like a dream a hundred times over and I will no longer have to ask for more. For you will be there, in my arms, completely real and exactly what I need.

Maybe I ask for too much. Maybe I should just sleep.

Good night.

I will try not to wish for you.

#latenightthoughts #dreams #sleep

You claim to be a poet. You claim to be a writer. But when you are asked to write about yourself, why does the color of speech leave your tongue? Why do the stars leave your eyes? Stars, that you are constantly dreaming of, but never reaching for. You claim to be a dreamer, one who believes in love, but why do your hands always feel a mile short of warmth? When you get what you want, you then feel unsatisfied about something else after.

And that's the problem, dear. You want so much. Stop pretending you don't. You are a supernova of complexities, webs and hearts entangled in your system. You can't even decide if you're made of see-through glass or if you embody a locked up book. Tell me, what are you so scared of?

You're scared of prolonged on-the-edge conversations; knowing there's no connection, but opening your mouth with strings of sentences anyway. I know you dread dead air - as dead as the words stuck to the roof of your mouth - but you barely even try.

I know you can connect with people you barely know. Whether it's five-minute long small talk with a teacher or an hour-long in-depth conversation with someone you admire, I know you can open your heart to new possibilities. 

Your heart is your most prized possession. You have so much love to give - please do not be afraid. But in the process, do not forget to save the most (not some) for yourself. You are a supernova of complexities, with love embedded in each and every neuron. Love, and learn. Give, but do not expect to be given.

Please do not be discouraged. When the dark clouds rain on your cheeks, let them. But remember that waiting behind them is the sun, wishing to dry the floods in your heart. You will not drown. Repeat this to yourself like a mantra, like a promise, when you're sitting in the familiarity of the darkness and the waves in your mind threaten to throw you over. Remind yourself this, and breathe. Let your lungs appear behind your eyelids and let the air flow in and out. Do this like you have several times before, and smile, because you know it's just another day.

Keep in your heart your voice, that croons melodies and questions our society; your hands, that only ever know the curves of your ukulele and the firmness of a pen; your mind, that tires itself out twenty-five hours a day; and your feet, that support your being for every booty drop you do.

You claim to be a poet. You claim to be a writer. While you are painting the world with your speech, please do not forget to live.

Naroon ka ba noong gabing 'yun?

Sumagot ka!

Sabi ko,

naroon ka ba noong gabing 'yun?

Mayroong binatilyong duguan, na pinapaligiran ng mga mamang naka-armas.

Naroon ka ba?

Noong ang binatilyong duguan ay sinigawan ng mga mamang naka-armas.

Naroon ka ba?

Noong ang binatilyong duguan ay... naging duguan.

Naroon ka ba?

Nakikita ko na:

Kalye, na kasing dilim ng kanyang kinabukasan.

Dugo, na kasing pula ng kanyang pagod na mga mata.

Hustisya -

Iyon lang ang hindi ko makita.

"Tama na po! May test pa ako bukas!"

"Bakit ka nasa labas nun?"

"Bakit wala ka sa bahay?"

"Bakit hindi ka nag-aaral?"

"Bakit may dala kang droga?"

"Bakit ka mahirap?"

"Bakit ka nagtratrabaho?"

"Bakit ka nabibintangan kahit na ikaw ang biktima?"

Bakit. Bakit. Bakit, Pilipinas?

"Paano ka nakakuha ng droga?"

"Paano ka tumakbo?"

"Paano ka nanlaban?"

"Paano ka namatay?"

"Paano ka nabiktima?"

"Paano ka nadamay?"

Paano. Paano. Paano, Pilipinas?

Paano tayo nakarating dito?

Naroon ka ba? 

Kasi lahat tayo naroon!

Lahat tayo naroon, noong hindi tayo nagsalita.

Lahat tayo naroon, noong wala tayong ginawa.

Noong hindi ka nagalit.

Noong hindi ka nalungkot.

Noong hindi ka nanlamig sa takot.

Kaya mo pa ba?

Kaya mo pang lumaban?

Kaya mo pang itaguyod ang iyong bayan?

Pwede kang magalit.

Pwede kang malungkot.

Pwede ka ring manlamig sa takot.

Pero hindi tayo susuko, hangga't walang hustisya.

Hangga't kinakatakutan pa rin ang pulisya.

Tumayo ka, kabayan.

Magpakatatag ka.

Para hanggang dulo

ay naroon ka.

they find stars romantic

they proclaim that the moon shines for you

they promise that they will claim all the heavenly bodies just for you

but i think that's blasphemy.

what is so whimsical about balls of fire

that they dare open their heart to the vast sky

in hopes of understanding your soul?

you may call me a hypocrite.

one who literally reads and writes about the heavens,

criticizing all the fools out there who dream under the stars;

the same stars i find myself gravitating towards.

but listen!

if our palms had the privilege

of meeting in the afterglow of the sun's absence,

i would not whisper sweet nothings to you

nor pretentious promises.

alas,

i would try my damn hardest to make you understand

that these stars we love to fall in love with

are way past their time

and we are only basking in the warmth

of their ghosts.

i will yell my hatred at the stars

for how they mean so much to me

yet are so far away.

but i will see you staring up above,

your features fueled by my anger,

and i will realize

what a petty thing my emotions are

when you are there,

just a breath away from me.

i will not bore you to death with the names of these stars;

instead, i will retell all that they've seen

(or at least what matters)

and when i notice you smiling at my favorite one,

i will pray to Orion

that i remember to include your smile on that list.

i will complain about light pollution

and how the artificial glow of this artificial world

has corrupted the night sky;

preventing us from fully immersing ourselves

in the beauty of the darkness,

something we must be very familiar with.

but i'll notice how your eyes catch the twinkle

of the dead stars that have seen

many other fools

like me.

when the moon appears

and reminds me of its presence each time i look into your eyes,

i will think about the celestial magic of the heavens

and how the sun will bring

a change of mind

but definitely not

a change of heart;

for your image

will still be caught

in the twinkle of my eye

when i wake up.

i will sigh,

and when you ask what is wrong,

i will only answer:

"stardust,

and everything it represents."

#freeverse #poetry #astronomy #love

If I could whisper all my secrets to a faraway land tucked behind my ear that nobody would ever discover, I would say this.

I miss you. Today, I saw a picture of you and realized how far I've gone without thinking of the way your voice calmed all the roaring waves in my chest, or how your hair got my fingertips tingling with the desire to smoothen it down, or how your eyes engulfed mine in a dream full of hellos and no goodbyes, or how your hands sort of looked weird but how I wouldn't have minded entangling them with mine anyway.

I miss you. Breakfasts without wondering how you are became the norm, with me walking into the kitchen with my jungle of hair and sleep-heavy eyes, because I was too busy thinking about how I said good night to someone else eight hours before. But, it was on that cool Saturday morning, when I took an extra step to the refrigerator, when I bent a little too low to get a drink, when I took three seconds longer than usual to look out the window, that I stopped for a moment to ask myself if you were actually living.

I miss you. Do you know the difference between existing and living? You've existed in my head for a long time but it's been a while since you've lived in it. It's been a while since your lungs breathed air under this roof of neurons, since your teeth chattered in the harshness of my thoughts. I haven't nourished your memory in months and I don't think I have the right to do so.

I miss you. When the sun sets, and the cold is my only friend, the rustling of leaves reminds me that I've been living in the present so much that I've left your memory in the background. You were the white noise I loved to listen to in the hollowness of the dark and the brightness of the morning. You were the crashing sounds playing with my senses, and it was...strange, to put the world on pause and pick out an annoying sound we always heard but never really listened to. But then I stopped remembering to pick you out of a hundred other sounds, and then you became just that: white noise.

I miss you. I hope that, after I write this, you go back to your tomb in my mind that I'd dug up just for you. I dug it up long ago and let you lay yourself to rest because I've accepted that our souls have grown too far apart, that coming back would just feel like a puzzle piece which had found itself all the way over the other side of the picture. It would just feel like a dandelion floret that had flown through the wind and travelled a thousand miles only to try to insert itself onto another flower because it thought it'd feel the same.

I miss you. And missing you is different from needing you. So, I'll end this with the hope that "I miss you" will never become "I need you."

silk, velvet bobs

needle-shaped fingers

sugary smiles, sweet enough to be put in a box

and wrapped in lacy ribbon

crinkling eyes, captivating enough to hold me in place

when they are looking at you

shining golden heart, genuine enough to give light

to all the parts of me 

that crack beneath the surface.

crevices and holes and hidden veins where

dark, cold blood flows

fear, misery flows

all my insecurity goes

cobweb bones and caves of flesh

where you can see my pain, raw, fresh

red, blue, green?

twisting, choking, i mean

your fingertips dancing along unknown nerve endings, i mean

soft melodies somehow intertwining with your heartstrings, i mean

unfamiliar memories, unfamiliar to me

to me,

to me, the idiot waiting in your backseat,

the backseat of your heart, or maybe the backseat of nothing

the backseat of nothing, and everything in between

to me, the poor lovesick soul

who's hanging onto every word you pour

i keep them like a secret,

i keep them like a poem,

i keep them because they sound just like home.

and so my mind's gears turn at night

in the morning, they still do

in the afternoons, nothing's changed,

and i'm still thinking about you.

it's pathetic.

it's ridiculous!

it's crazy, it's stupid, it's tiring,

makes me the opposite of frivolous.

i

am exhausted.

my eyes

are red

from all the internal wars with myself

as i venture into alternate dimensions

and see your hand in someone else's

from each life to the next.

my head

is heavy

from the never-ending what ifs

and struggles between a pumping organ down in the middle

and a mass of tissue up north.

my chest

is hollow

from swelling up with profuse amounts of emotion

and from suppressing itself into a tiny little box when all the emotions

are too embarrassing, too shameful

from making space for something that is never going to come.

2016 was a year of learning for me. So, in 2017, I not only plan to learn even more, but also to act on the things I learned in 2016. 2016 had its ups and downs (although the ups out shined the downs), and I don't expect any less from 2017. 

I want to become a better version of myself, and my number one goal is to be kinder - to myself, and to others. I will be more open and honest with how I feel, which I failed to do in 2015. If I become honest with myself, then I can start being honest with others, too.

I want to be kind to other people. I will think before I speak, and listen when I need to. I will help other people in the way I can. 

Fear will always be in our heads; it is only our choice whether or not we choose to be consumed by it. I need to learn to start stepping out of my comfort zone, bit by bit. I want to help others grow, but it is another thing to let myself grow. After all, not much will happen if I stay within my comfort zone forever. 

while my heart rate is slowing down

and my breaths are becoming a constant string of lightness

there is someone out there wishing their reality

was just one big dream.

there are people who get stiff, perturbed slumber.

uneasy, woolly, stormy slumber.

i'm trying so hard but i can't even close my eyes slumber.

my eyes are going red but i don't want to fall into darkness slumber.

and then there's bleak, tired slumber.

dejectedly desperate despairing slumber.

i'm not okay and i'm going to sleep it off slumber.

i don't ever want to wake up again slumber.

but you know that warm, limpid slumber?

that everflowing abounding embracing slumber.

the everything is alright slumber.

i'm happy and that's all there is slumber.

i know that one day, you will get that slumber.

it'll feel like you've been sleeping your whole life,

but i'm asking you to awaken, and live like

you're on top of the world created by your subconscious

with the exception that your heart is pounding, and that this,

this is your reality.

heavy-lidded

small exhales through her lips

her knees are shaking

her soles are aching

bending, breaking

until

she is no longer "immune"

a light touch to her collarbone might make her evaporate

but she's fine

she's fine

(or so she says)

she's fine

she's fine

she doesn't need rest

a day wasted will only add to her pain

(if she even admits she's in pain)

she can't afford to pause for a moment and look within herself

she can't close her eyes

that'd be time thrown away

her fumbling feet carry her shivering shoulders

her shivering shoulders carry her heavy head

her heavy head carries her thundering thoughts

her thundering thoughts carry nothing

but the ominous fear of disappointment hanging over her tired body

her chest is hollow

there is nothing filling her up except numbers and dates

she knows about nutrition

she knows about metabolism

but she acts like looking at word documents will nourish her

can she extract water from these sheets of paper

to parch her exhausted mind?

can she swallow all these pen caps like they're pills

and somehow feel like she can last another day?

she's trying to pull stars out of her bloodstream

for her to hang on her walls

she's seeking warmth

she's looking for comfort

she's only human

she clutches the fleece

and closes her heavy-lidded eyes

her throat is closing up,

overwhelmed with suppressed pleas

she can barely breathe

small exhales through her lips

her knees are shaking

her soles are aching

bending, breaking

she's not immune.