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Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
Where are your words?
Or were they meant to be just words?
What should I do when reality hits me?
Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
Life is either—
A game of pretense,
An arena of mockery,
Or a gift of eccentricity.
What choices do we have?
Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
His spoken words were:
“I will love you.”
And so he loved me.
Then left me.
Because his unspoken words were:
“I will leave you.”
Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
Flying at 41,000 feet high
Cruising into the night sky
I watch it pass by
Bidding my goodbye.
Birth. Death. Beginning.
Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
The clarity of what’s in front:
Made me realize what’s at hand.
With courage,
I faced her—
I saw a pair of jet black eyes,
About to slip tears of goodbyes.
I saw a chapped pink lips,
Trembling with much anxieties.
I saw her—
Her fears.
Her regrets.
Her loneliness.
Her helplessness.
Pass through that glass—
Drenched by the clear droplets of rain;
I saw her reflection.
Then, I broke the glass.
I saw myself.
Then, I kissed death.
What’s your ellipsis?
Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
This is the chronicle of life.

The stars collided,
The asteroids went astray,
And the comets pour down like snow.
What we don’t know—
Is the breath of life beyond the void.
The waves of sound that signifies a kingdom;
The clashing of worlds and survival of men.
That’s how it is.
Time and space is immaterial.
Without doubt,
The universe is vast, enormous and mysterious from afar.
However, life will always be a war.
Fought between men—
With bows and arrows,
With swords and shields,
With spears and poisons,
With guns and cannons.
And in the end,
It will be a bloodbath.
As red as scarlet;
As black as the darkness.
Yet its horrors and ghosts form part of what we call— history.
That’s how it is.
Time and space is immaterial.
The universe is vast, enormous and mysterious from afar.
And all of these will be forgotten:
Like a death of a distant star.

This is the chronicle of life.
Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
It was raining hard and patient
The doorknob clicked
The room was lit up
But it was heavy inside
The heaviness was surly
She heaved a sigh
With her light footsteps
She crossed the room
Her charcoal dark hair
Like waves of the ocean;
Dropped down through her frame
Her tired doe brown eyes
Covered by her curly lashes
Wandered through the windows
Her calloused fragile hands
Cold as ice and snow
Traced the windowsill
Clasped them in her heart
She was lonely
Alone in her midst
Alone in her pain
Alone in her memories.
This was my last piece since 2018. I haven’t written anything since then. It’s hard to loose my touch in writing.
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