Once again, Cupid has struck
His arrow upon me, just my luck.
This thing which they call love
Has dragged me again from up above.
Now I am falling, falling so fast.
It is happening again, just like the past.

If only I had been too careful,
Maybe now I wouldn't be so doubtful.
Now it's too late,
Way too late to control dear fate.
I should have seen it from the start.
Now I am coming apart.

I still remember the last time I fell;
Shame on me, it gave me nothing but hell.
But not to worry, I take all the blame
And throw it in the fire, to burn in the flame.
I now know I should forget.
I suffered enough, enough regret.

This time, it is different,
It seems like heaven must've sent
The thing I need the most
To make me feel not much like a ghost.
And upon me proved, I didn't even resist,
That happy endings still exist.

But still I am not so sure
If his love is really pure.
When I am around, he never shows it;
But through the things he says, I can feel it.
Tell me if these proofs aren't enough
To say that this is not a joke at which I should laugh.

I am but a fool for his heart-sinking words
That hurt me deeply like a thousand sharp swords.
He says it's no use,
He will never be the one I will choose.
If only he is aware, I say,
Of what my cowardly heart has to say.

We feel it both,
But we're running out of hope.
Such cowards,
Too afraid to come forward.
With so much to mention,
If only both would pay attention.

Now I am desperately calling out;
Oh heavens, please hear what's coming out of my mouth!
Tell me if I made another mistake.
Please, answer me for my own sake.
Say that this won't be like the last one,
For my heart will surely come undone.

There are seven days a week,
Seven continents,
And seven deadly sins.
Snow White had seven dwarfs,
The rainbow has seven colors,
And I have seven in all my debts.
Maybe it all got decided on December 7.

Every steady stroke of lead staining the spotless paper,
Takes shape into a vivid sketch of her blueprinted future.
It was her hand that steered the pencil up to the final detail,
But it was the tenacity in her being that polished off the masterpiece.
The draft was no evidence of a foreseen tomorrow;
Rather, a subtle illustration of what can bring that vision forward.
It was but a portrait of herself;
Her hair ablaze in burnt sienna with tinges of orange,
Every strand of it splashed with colors of burning hope.
Her eyes, as brown as they are,
Traced with fine ebony lines of boldness,
In them is where wild reveries come to life.
She is the outline, she is the plan.
She is enough to be an artwork of her own.
She is the pattern, she is the design.
She is the finishing touch to her own creation.

Sleep well, my darling.
Everything is all better now.
Good as new.
Good as before;
Before I came along
And took you with me
To this hard life
I thought we can get through.
But never mind that now,
I can manage from here.
After all, this is my mess.
I can clean it up
As *****-and-span
as I do your aquarium.
Come along now,
It's time to go inside
Your final jar-home
Where your groom-to-be awaits
To spend with you an everlasting paradise,
Apart from the tragedy in that tank.
Tell Turty I said hi, okay?
For the meantime,
I will keep this reality
With me
Where it can no longer
Let something die
Over and over again.
Goodbye,
Your real owner awaits you.
But please don't forget to
Visit your mother in her dreams
Sometime.

Here, it hurts here,
where I'm supposed to
face big rolling rocks
as if I've got me a helmet
and iron fists.
This part, it hurts here,
where I'm supposed to
hand-pick gentle puffs of air,
not be smothered in smokes
that choke me up to see clearly.
Way up here, it hurts here,
where instead I try to get away
inwardly, far, far away,
towards nowhere,
rather than out.

An animated drawing,
No matter how lifelike,
Can never know life;
Like how a model in a photograph
Can only be so lovely
But never loveable.

Unlike constellations,
There are no dots for me to connect
This figure that I trace
To make a silver lining out of you.

And the last grain of sand
fell on the heap
at the bottom of the hourglass... time's up;
but suddenly
I have all the time in the world.

A weak sigh
slowly closing the front door
careful not to get the attention
of hushed cement walls

A held out blow
gently casting wishes
carrying seeds of promises
from a dandelion

A casual whiff of cigarette smoke
lost in the traffic
between blaring car horns
and pedestrian talk

A dancing whistle
bouncing on saucers
hovering in the water
sliding on the sink

A voiceless whisper
echoing in a church
the angels and saints
suddenly are all ears

A long-distance yawn
deep-diving into the unconscious
reaching out to another world
in the heart of the mind

An unremarkable breath
may just be the tail of our souls
peeping through our mouths          
even though the eyes are the windows

Like his Mother Nature,
Forest is full of life and magic.
He is the keeper and protector
of all of God's creatures.

With roots for feet and tree trunks for limbs,
he towers over all;
and feels everything
that moves in his soil.

He has eagle wings to fly over the mountains
and owl eyes to watch over the night,
that when humans come to visit,
they get lost in wonder and awe.

On the other side, there is River;
who is pure and powerful.
She heals and restores life
in all of God's creatures.

She flows to the seas and oceans
and fills three-fourths of the Earth
and half the human body
to nourish the world.

She brings calmness and peace,
like how the Forest provides an oasis;
and together, they hold the secret
to our blue and green planet.

You do not water me daily,
You allow me to parch
And count the seasons I perennate
With only a drop of what I thought
Was especially for me.
You do not tend to me,
You let me need you needfully;
You burrow deep into my soil
And untangle my roots,
You knew exactly the right fertilizer
To get me to grow.
You do not take me in at night,
You leave me in a greenhouse
I shared with the rest of other plants
You couldn't pick from,
Shivering, waiting for another day
I happen to flush rosier petals
And get your attention again.
You do not choose me,
You do not own me,
You do not love me;
You are not the gardener,
No you are not.
You are just a confused collector,
Visiting every parterre,
Plucking all the best flowers,
Chancing for the greatest find
Without the intention of keeping it.
You are not the gardener,
No you are not.
You are just a collector,
A lonely little lad
Running out of other pastimes;
And I am just a hobby
You do not take to heart.
But I am not a flower,
No I just am not.
I am the vase
Holding the flower
You knew could use your sunshine,
So you let it hang right where
It is almost there.
But I am not a flower,
No I just am not.
I am the vase
Holding that flower;
Maybe a porcelain you can break
Into many brittle pieces,
But never a plant
You can watch dry and die and be dust,
No I just cannot be.
I am a vase,
Not a flower;
And you are not the gardener.
I do not belong in your collection.

Open Season
Sea Green, See Blue
Good Riddance;
You introduced me
To some pretty good songs
I can never hate
But there are others there
Which I can love as well
And right now I've found
A beautiful song
To update my playlist.
I will always listen
To the ones you gave me
But they cannot be
My favorite songs anymore.

Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.

The clouds are heavier
than my mascara;
my lashes are the weighing scales,
they're pressing them down, down,
now I'm feeling down, down.
My eyes were the drunkest
until they met with this waterfall
that makes the cars dance
outside my bus window.
Be this north, south,
east, or west;
all I know is forward,
it gets better there.
And what do you know,
I told you so;
the clouds are getting thinner here,
now that we're finally here.
The cone trees align
like constellations,
the air is eucalyptus
in my lungs,
and the sky spread
like one giant cloud
that swallowed up the sun
so it's still bright
even if it's already about to be night.
I guess the four long rides
are worth the sight
of these foreign horses
and this patch of a pineapple field.
Above me, the sea;
below me, the city.
The foam and fog
made everything gray-blue
and the landscape is a moving painting
where the santan flowers are magnified
and the mountains are blurred.
We went up and down,
hill by hill;
left and right,
tree to tree
to be somewhere
and nowhere
at the same time.
This hanging bridge
would be more thrilling
if I were to fall
and start a landslide.
It's getting darker
and the flickering of the city
is no longer in silhouette
but in full incandescence
like that of twinkling stars
or Christmas lights 'round the park,
and suddenly breathing
is an amusement.
Now there's a cricket and bird duet
featuring the frogs
and we're walking in the dark,
finding our way
through this maze
of ilang-ilangs and moss,
with the new moon as our north star,
tracing our steps back
while I lose vision of
the lines on my paper.
A little firefly leads us out,
then we're back at the same
yellowbell stairs from the way in.
Coldness has never been
this memorable
and I'd always remember
how the Tagaytay wind
swept me off my feet
and took me back
to this tricycle ride,
back to this bus ride,
and then home
to one of our many homes.

Do you still feel sorry
for your loss
everytime I cross your mind?

Do you still have grief
over my death
because I
am your unfinished business?

Do you still get the creeps
everytime you thought
you saw the ghost of me
when it was just your regrets
coming to life
to haunt you again?

Do you still visit
my tombstone
and mourn over the carvings
that my name made
on the stone walls of your heart?

Do you still want to dig me
out of my grave in your memory
and wish I had a proper funeral
instead of being buried
when I still lived
after you tried to **** me?

Because I do.

She ties strings around my joints
And controls all my motions.
When her finger points,
I have to be in position.

With her push and her pull,
My helpless body moves.
I'm under her rule;
She makes all my grooves.

I have no right to speak;
She's the only one with the voice.
Not even a squeak;
I don't have any choice.

“Do this” and “do that,”
She commands me like a ***.
With just a snap, just like that.
If only I could run.

How much I envy little Pinocchio.
He was once a puppet who turned into a real boy.
I am no puppet, I know.
I am human, but being manipulated like a toy.

The writer woke up
One day no longer pouring
Her thoughts over tea
Without a warning
The writer slept
Throughout every 2AM
Not tossing or turning
And hearing the walls speak
One day no longer to be found
The writer disappeared
In the pages of her history
Along with scars healed
After the storm
With the calm
Amidst the quiet
One day no longer needing
The writer in her story

Time doesn't crawl,
No, you can't make it stall;
Even if you pay with any toll.
So make as much brawl,
And quit calligraphy and try to scrawl.
So in the end, you'd have something to recall.

Time doesn't walk,
Don't try to balk.
Everybody knows it flies faster than a hawk.
So be sure to listen when I talk,
Because someday I'd be gone and you'd surely gawk.
And by then, you can never again stalk.

Time doesn't wait,
So drown all your hate.
Don't be the rod; instead be the bait.
Don't wait for the fish to become cate;
Catch it before it's too late.
For you never know when's the expiry date.

Time doesn't hang out,
That's what it's all about.
So don't fill your head with doubt;
Laugh while you can still spout.
Because no matter what you do, time will rout.
And there's no use of trying to pout.

Time doesn't pause.
You're not the boss,
You don't need to know the cause.
So don't wait for any loss,
Or for the growth of moss.
For one day there might be no coin left to toss.

Time doesn't stand by,
And it's not a lie.
The sky's too high,
But you'll reach it when you die.
Life's a sweet apple pie,
So don't waste it on a sigh.

If love's a crime,
Then we'd be criminals.
To some eyes, we'd be monsters;
And to many, we'd be devils.
But I wouldn't mind my first name being feared and hated,
Because having your last name is what matters to me.

If love's a crime,
Then we'd be criminals.
We'd be playing with fire and get burned;
We'd be playing tag with the detectives
And hide-and-seek with the cops.
But I wouldn't mind running and hiding with you for the rest of my life.

If love's a crime,
Then we'd be criminals.
We'd be locked behind bars
And treated like animals.
But as long as my hand is hand-cuffed to your hand
And we're together in the same prison cell,
I wouldn't mind wearing a handcuff
And staying in prison for eternity.

Pull on one of the loose ends
Hanging with mystery
To unknot the two loops
Flaunting surprise
And untie the bow
That holds fast a box
Covered in paper-thin wrapper,
Fancy enough to be inviting,
Yet functional to be ripped up
So what's inside the carton
That has "fragile" all over it,
Sealed with adhesive tapes
That need careful unsticking
Or else the damaged goods,
Can at last be opened.
Now here you are,
A rare material,
Unprocessed as ever;
Unlabeled and unpriced.
Sold like a product in demand,
Given away like a free merchandise.
A special package,
A precious item
To be valued the most
For all its worth.
To every deserving owner,
You are a gift.

I never trusted that warmth in your tank.
I've always smelled something fishy
About the hot moisture on the glass
And how the water is close to boiling,
Since it's coming from this hell
Where monsters share the night
And leave you waiting til the sun
Rises to scare them to their hideouts.
And I almost caught it red-handed,
'Cause now that warmth is gone
And suddenly you're so cold,
Not the kind of cold
That drips on my palms
When I take you right from the water
To let you play in my hands
And you would find a hole to creep out of
And try to fly
As if this whole world
Is your own ocean.
Now it's the kind of cold
That no longer crawls and squirms
To escape from me,
'Cause you've already found the way out.
And you even left the doors open
As your empty eyes stare at me.
You won't look around now,
Just when you've decided to open your eyes more.
I can no longer see you,
Just when you've decided not to hide in your shell anymore.
But it wasn't that warmth after all.
It was the warmth that wasn't there
When you needed it the most.
And it's such a shame the turtle sticks came too late
And they were no longer enough
To keep you wanting to be home with me.
But they still were no later than my sorry
And bathroom-borne sobs
Which you won't be able to hear anymore,
Or even understand.
And the green in the portrait I made of you,
The pixels of your images,
And your shy face on my desktop,
Can never be as alive as you once were.
But you just can't
Let me place you in this jar
I labeled 'good days,'
Pour over some sand,
And keep you there and wait
Until there finally is a place that we can call ours,
Where our remains won't be called tenants.
Darling, why now?
You will still need a bigger tank,
You will still grow up with me,
You will still marry Shelly,
If ever she makes it.
God, let her make it.
You can't be gone now,
You just can't.
I haven't even finished our song yet.
Will you really leave me here,
Writing songs about valuables I lost,
People I sent away,
And every living that died at my feet?
I guess you will
But I just can't get used to it,
Nor do I want to get used to this;
To have to get up
But not want to wake up
And attend every tragedy
As if I were death's representative.

What can I say?
I love you in the simplest way.
For the first time ever,
there's no need to be clever
and for words to be fancy
for you make it so easy.
Best and perfect
cannot reflect
the way we are,
never imagined we'd go this far.
Always looking forward,
you are the greatest reward.

I swear I've seen paradise
whenever I'd look into your eyes.
Who knew I could be blessed by
something so divine
such as your smile?
I have never known what it's like
to be waken up and put to sleep at the same time
until your lips kissed mine.
Only your voice can lull
the roaring in my skull.
And into your arms, I'd come home again and again
like how sand always settles at the bottom of the ocean.

Have I ever told you about this magnetic force
that makes my body always want to be next to yours?
I've never felt like this before,
can't see myself with anyone else anymore.
You were the sunshine I've been waiting for,
now I will never have to weather any downpour
without someone to play with in the puddles
and laugh with through all troubles.
This is all I've ever wanted from life,
finally I can say that line.
My soul has found peace,
for you are the missing piece.

What can I do?
I love you more than I know how to.
Let's hope nothing can sever
this making of a forever.
I promise you my heart,
it chose you from the very start.
Through the highs and the lows,
you have my hand to hold.
Whatever tomorrow brings
or change in feelings,
we'll stay together
cause we're two birds of a feather.

Can't we choose the air that coalesces with our blood?
Can't we decide the only time to let our lids shut and unlock?
Can't we pick the only lumps we want to sprout from our structures?
Can't we select the parts we would rather have blemished?
Can't we prohibit the leaky drops of saline our eyes secrete?
Or forbid our visage from exposing an out of control kaleidoscope?
Can't we stop our pumps from thrashing and throbbing and telling on us?
As well as command our malfunctioning extremities to quit giving away our state?
Can't we instead just bring out our insides without dissecting the outside?
Can't we just emit what we mean to sound off by just lip-syncing?
Can't we really do anything without a swad of nerves tell us no?
While having every stretch of muscle and vein say yes?
Can't we just...
Can't we really?

If you wore a suit of expression
Forged out of iron words
On the anvil of explanation,
One that comes out strong
And fits like your own skin
To armor up for introduction,
It would only cover more
Of what you already show
So instead you wear your heart
On your sleeves
Your perhaps unfashionable,
However durable sleeves
Made from the fabric of feeling
Woven by threads of thoughts
As if what you have on
Is yourself inside-out.

If you came out as a loud noise
Solid and sharp
Bringing only auditory effect
And no message to transmit
To the sympathetic nerves,
Not of beats but a mere blast,
And what's a sound
When it's not music?
So instead you come out as a song
Fingertips on guitar strings,
Soul in the playing
And story in the lyrics
A voice calling out,
Serenading,
Hoping to be an anthem
Or at least a playlist item.

Silken skies
Candlelit sunset
Clouds of fresh linen
My lips all over you
Like rose petals
Scattered around my room.

Moonlit smiles
Red wine kisses
Slow dancing
To the rhythm under the sheets
Your body wrapped
Like lace on my skin.

Hot summer breath
Sweat like coconut and lime
Your voice soft against my ear
Time flowed like sand
You and I forever lost
In waves of lulling bliss

Colors flashed
Bubbles burst
Feet landed on the ground
But in your gaze my heart still floats
Though all this is only in my mind
This love is solid as your hand.

I was walking on air this dawn.
We danced all around the lawn.
We were as wild and as free as a fawn.
Our bodies wiggled like a prawn;
And smiles on our faces were drawn,
With the feeling as if we won.

I was walking on air this morning.
Our laughs sounded better than a bell's ding,
And our voices were louder than a phone's ring.
We held our heads up like a king,
While our restless hearts sing.
And I wouldn't change a thing.

I was walking on air this afternoon.
You got me grinning like a new moon.
Like a flower, my cheeks bloom.
I didn't ever want to go back to my room,
And wished the moment wouldn't zoom.
I'd have given everything not to make it end too soon.

I am walking on air tonight.
It's all too dark but it still seems so bright,
For the bliss in our eyes has light
And no darkness can ever block my sight.
This ecstasy we couldn't fight
Will forever bind us tight.

With mechanical portals known to be doors
That either lead to different worlds or take you home,
These cabled vehicles like tunnels on wheels fastened on a railroad track
Stretch to both ends of the universe under a single route.
And as you get in for closure,
You put your trust on the obscure.

Just say the magic words;
It will take you anywhere you wish to be.
Even though magic always comes with a prize,
The only cost are countable units of your time
And also a few dimes,
In return for the travel of your life.

Across the carpeted walkway of reaching out,
Through the glass windows of visible silver lining,
Behind the blank and arid faces that lure the soul to sink in deep wonder,
The lights and skyscrapers, and mist silhouetting the scenery,
All appear in bokeh, all blend in your eyes;
Your eyes that glow brighter than fire on ice.

The coldness lashing perennially on your skin
And shaking your bones to its final breakage,
Couldn't beat the absolute zero amity between these strangers.
But your fascination has enough radiation
To melt the tip of the iceberg
And shine over what's behind their opaque walls.

Settled on the plastic seats that serve as time machines,
They nestle between unfamiliar bodies;
Static, in a state of inertia.
Blocking out force, resisting change;
Like cars stuck on parking mode,
Couldn't bring themselves to unload.

Grasping on loose handles
With a grip more secure than seat-belts,
Some tend to pull away despite of the constant push.
Like engines on reverse, they take time to backtrack.
For all we know, for every action,
Is an equal and opposite reaction.

The brakes hit; there goes a screeching sound.
But when it comes to a break, we don't really hang back
Or fall to a complete stop;
We only slide forward.
For we must keep moving ahead,
In order to keep our balance.

The portals once again unlock to let you out to the open galaxy
And let in another for the same adventure.
You've reached the end of the trip,
But not the end of the road; nor the destination.
For the journey is infinite; you know you are going to ride again and again,
Until you've run out of wishes of where you want to be where.

I was contemplating
On a hot sunday late-morning
On things where I went wrong.
Should have's, shouldn't have's;
They seemed to be what went wrong
Until I got back to the present,
On the dining table
Where I was seated in front of,
When a lizard was now staring at me,
Perhaps disappointed with how
I did not feel him inching towards me
Or maybe wondering
Why I never notice
The things happening before me.
Now is this bird
Who just perched on the balustrade
And gave me a quick tip of the head
Then flew away,
Telling me to instead contemplate
On parts of me where I went wrong?

How many more shots of Jack Daniel's
Will you pour over that glass
Half-full of Coke
And half-empty of enough
Until you get enough?
The sadness in your silence
Makes it hard to tell if you're paying attention
To the voices you hear
Or the thoughts you listen to,
And the more glasses you empty,
Objects you slam intentionally,
And songs you let speak for you,
The more you show the lonely twenty-something
Or more
Is better than the icy spirit I first met
Escaping his bottle
Back in that car ride I will now always remember,
For if it weren't for it,
You wouldn't be good as drunk now,
Sober enough to finally say out loud
What you've been screaming about quietly
In that seat you never sat on
In spite of the last few hours you stayed with us
And the only two or three times you excused yourself out,
And I hope somehow we really did do something
To make you feel better
Or better yet stop you
From feeling at all
For at least a little while,
But I'm pretty sure you only saw us
As a good excuse to finally
Take that bottle of Jack Daniel's
Out of your sight of misery
From that shelf where it was placed
To do you the most good.
So I'll leave you my cheeseburger,
In case you need a reminder
Of the moment you once had company
In that emptiness you call a condo unit,
That will last long enough
Until the next time we say goodbye,
And by then I just might try
To leave something other than
Cold food and disappointment
Upon my answer of “I don't like them”
To your question of whether or not
I know of Backstreet Boys,
And instead provide a better cheerer-upper,
Like a good song or advice or poem,
Than a bottle of Jack Daniel's.

Blue
like my soul,
a fraction of what is due
for sin that took its toll.

So the cold didn’t last beyond February, like how
You thought you could finish that poem in January.
Now you say you would for sure complete your list by April,
But you can’t even get yourself to make it through March.
And before you know it, June will ask you out for another date in school
And you’re still on vacation, playing games with May.
Then by August you’d be broken again,
And you’ll blame it all on July.
So you’ll laugh with your friends as you await October,
And hold on to excuses throughout September
Until you have December all to yourself once more,
To right the things you thought November could change.
But then it’s February waking you up in the morning again,
Knowing that you kept January up all night for
A new year’s resolution that is up to what only April can give
And March could never lend,
And you couldn’t buy on June
Because you invested it all on May,
Only to be double crossed by August,
And turned down by July when you ask for help.
So you place all your hopes on October
And refuse September’s offer
Because you trust December to be there for you
In case November leaves you on hold again.
Now it’s February calling for the last time, and you finally pick up.
You stopped dialing January for good
And you realize you don’t have to ring April too.
This time you know better, so you look forward to see March
And decide you’re no longer hiding from June
Because you plan to come to terms with May,
So by August you won’t look back anymore
And things will fit perfectly in July.
And when October comes, you won’t even notice it
Because you’d be so busy running through every day of September
That you will no longer remember how last December let you down
And how much November used to matter;
Because today you already know what February did not have to
Remind you and which you never actually needed January for.

In the black sky, he glows like a falling star.
While on the ground, she stares from afar.
He flickers like fountains of meteor shower
And she can't help but to devour.

The clouds gave way upon his presence
And she was bedazzled by his luminescence.
His sparks are like shimmering asteroids;
Which, one by one, she desperately avoids.

The girl is Yin, and the boy is Yang.
When they collide, it'd be the Theory of Big Bang.
She's the color black, he's the color white.
They can't be combined, just like day and night.

Yin couldn't be heard even with her voice so loud.
While Yang, even the planets are proud.
He's the sun, she's the moon.
When they intertwine, it'd be the start of doom.

But alas, the constellations have connected
These two heavenly bodies by a thread.
There was no need for a North Star to be of guide,
For their lines are meant to coincide.

Neither did a black hole,
Nor did a nuclear fission divide them sole.
Just like saturn and its rings;
When he spins, she clings.

They're both from different galaxies,
With the same discrepancies.
Yet, they are in one circle in cosmology.
This is Yin and Yang's story.

You have your hair
to represent your pain;
to show off and hide at the same time,
which you can dye in every color
and grow as long as you like
or cut it short and paint it black
when it gets too much.

You have ears to keep secrets
and a mouth to share truth.

You have memories for feet
to keep you on the ground
and dreams for eyes
to see clearly and openly.

You have your mistakes as your backbone
to support and keep you in line
and twelve pairs of ribs
that form a cage for all the fears
you want to keep inside.

You have hands made of solid passion
with creativity on your fingers
and care in your palms.

You have lungs that respire freedom
and vocal cords that make music.

You've the Earth as your mind
which may not have all the answers
but breeds life anyway,
and a heart that pumps love into it
to make all the difference in the world.

You have bones made of calcified purpose
to let you stand strong
for everything you believe in.

You have the universe in your blood
and it goes way back
to the dawn of time,
seeping through your flesh,
connecting all the people
you have been and yet to be

You have humanity in your soul
and divinity in your body.
Everything is in you
but the best thing about you is
you.