Her lips may have trembled
But her words were firm
Her eyesight may have blurred
But her gaze was steady
Her hands may have shook
But her grip was strong
She may have been fragile
But her soul was brave

it's easy
to let your blood drip
to let your tears flow
to let yourself fall
for it feels freely natural
when you exert no force
and yet you end up hurt
because that's how
it always ends up anyway

from everything
that wilts
comes forth
a blossom

my hands and my pen
may be getting older
but my words
stay a blooming garden

"ugly as we are,"
                      you said to me
                      as you held my hand,
"the reflection of this horrible world
shown on the mirror
every time we look up."

                      you were slowly fading,
                      and i could see your eyes turning glassy.

                      a tear fell,
                      not only from your eye,
                      but also from the sky
                      to where i looked up
                      and saw the reflection of the world

"ugly as we are,"
                      i said with an empty hand,
"a horrible world
without you in it."

there wouldn't be success
without hardships

there wouldn't be happiness
without tears

there wouldn't be love
without hate

there wouldn't be glory
without gore

these cold white floors
are never enough
to mirror the purity of your heart
or to capture your hands' warmth

the intricacy weaved on your clothes
and patterns drawn by your feet
can never compare to
the dancing heart you wear on your sleeve

so don't look down
every time you fall
but hold on to their arms
and firm words and calls

to yourself, you're imperfect
to me, you're emboldened:
you don't need to win gold
when you're already golden

AND SOMETIMES I WISH I COULD JUST GRAB YOU AND TELL YOU THAT I WOULD COME TO LOVE YOU AND YOUR PAST CRAP-HOLE LIFE AGAIN IF YOU GAVE ME A SECOND CHANCE AND I WOULDNT MIND OR CARE ABOUT THE FACT THAT WE DONT DESERVE EACH OTHER-- IM TOO GOOD FOR YOU AND YOU'RE TOO UNTAMED FOR ME, BUT ISN'T THAT THE REASON WHY I COULD SUPPORT YOU? TO BRING YOU BACK TO YOUR FEET. IF ONLY YOU WOULD LOOK ME IN THE EYES AT FIRST AND READ THROUGH MY SOUL HOW SERIOUS I AM ABOUT SAVING YOU

She tries to turn
her thoughts into pictures
I just simply put
mine into words
Hers is all in color
Mine's a grayscale world
It's understandable why
you would choose a rainbow like her
Instead of the writer in me
But please let me go
I'm no longer her anymore
I'm no longer the artist
I yearned to be

not many people favor
the flavor
of the green tea latte
sweet from the start
with a slight bitter aftertaste
as the matcha on your tongue fades

i remember the time
we went to your favorite cafe
and you commented on how your
green tea latte
was a little sweeter than the usual
and now i comment how
it is a little more bitter
compared to when i had it with you

the green tea latte
is my memory of you
sweet—for every time
we sat in that same spot
sipping the warm green drink
and bitter— for the moment
i drank my
green tea latte
alone

"He always closes the door whenever he leaves the room."

That was one habit of his which I appreciated, knowing he was considerate enough. But I never knew I would come to detest it, or even regret loving it.

Until this morning.
He never returned.

i used to be a half-moon
looking for a sun
to help me shine
in the darkest nights

but i never thought about
finding another half-moon
until i saw you

and i have never felt so complete
so now we can glow brighter
when we're together

Next to his lips and his eyes, his hands are the most converstional. When he tells stories, his hands gesture persuasion and wisdom. When he shows his care to me, his hands hold mine firmly but gently. When he provides protection, his hands reach out to me and cradle me close. When he gives comfort, his hands stroke my hair and back, letting me know everything will be better with him beside me. And not once have i doubted anything he did with his hands.

//

I reached out for his hand that was placed lightly on my knee.
"What's wrong?" He asked. "Do you feel ticklish again?"
I shook my head and lazily looked up at his face, since we were sprawled on the couch, with my head rested on his shoulder, like his hand that was previously on my knee.
"Dont tell me you've got a hand fetish," he laughs in disbelief.
"I haven't said anything," I replied, drawing circles on his palm. Its amazing he isn't flustered, or at least he's acting not to be flustered, at my action.
He watched me quietly as I tried to read his palm. We sat there, only breathing, with him looking at me and me looking at his hand. This moment, is frozen and embedded into my memory. Just as those lines of his experiences are embedded into his palm.
"I would write a million books about just your hands," I confessed.
Through my dangling hair strands i could see him smile shyly, to which my vision cleared as he put the strands behind my ear.
"You don't have to write about me in books, when im already here always by your side. What's more is, whatever we had, have and will have, will be written on my palm, like its written in the stars."

From the moment he spoke those words and took my hands in his, I never believed in astrology, wishes, 11:11s, fortune telling, mind and palm reading anymore for the luck of love.

Two beings of above--the sun and the moon, once loved each other a long time ago, only to lose each other and themselves through the expanse of time and space.
...
Now, there is a certain girl who fell in love with a certain boy, with the expanse of time and space between them. I love you, she says to the sky, in hopes of the wind bringing her words to him. I hope to see you again, soon.
...
And the boy, in his walking pace, randomly stops. Do boys wonder about their soulmates as much as girls do too? Because he certainly did. I would reach for your soul with my hand if I could, he said to no one in particular. Wait for me, again and again. I would reach you soon.
...
A breeze picks up and tucks a stray strand of the girl's hair behind her ear. She felt her palm grow warm, as if her hand was being held by another-- by his hand. She felt a tug in her, as if her soul was being tied to another-- to his soul. She closed her eyes and let the wind, her silent messenger, caress her face as she took a breath. *"I'll wait for you, and for us to rise again: against all dark odds and in this expanse of time and space."

He skipped and he hopped.
He popped and he locked.
He danced with his feet,
to Mcdonalds' fast beat.

He puffed up with pride;
warm in the inside.
And fresh with his lettuce;
junk food is his fetish.

He never thought what would come;
he thought it was all fun.
In a funky yellow wrapper
and into the warmer he went.
He heard the kaching of the cashier--
someone's money was spent.
He was dragged to the front line
where the lights were all bright.
Like he was sent in for interrogation;
Like in a murderer's plight.

And like that he went.
A tear from his bread skin:
the top of his sesame seed bun head
human teeth sank in.
He yelled and he screamed
with all that he got.

He thought he was happy.
But he's everything he's not.

heart aches
heart breaks
heartstrings being snapped
heart-shaped cards torn
heart candies chewed
heart attacks
heartless people

this is why
i avoid everything with a heart
and i want to remove my heart

and no matter how far apart we are
i'll always find you, my north star
because i know you'll come back to me
every time i call your name
and this makes me realize
what my heart has realized
long before i met you
that we are meant to be

every goodbye
is the beginning
of a new hello

i would've
saved you
had you
reached out
for me

she responds in words as well
not in any beat but of the heart's,
she knows he can feel her,
no matter how far apart
she hears his voice in the sun
she feels his fingers in the sea
he's closing in on her
it's his, she longs to be

he's calling out to her
through words with melody
capturing her heart
and all her entity
his hand skim the strings
his voice, soft like clouds
imagining he's caressing her
it's she, whom he surrounds

For others, the eyes
are the windows to one's soul.
But his eyes are the keys
that unlock the rabbit's hole.

I promised to be careful,
never falling for them;
but there is a wonderland,
found deep inside him.

From the outside,
a mysterious gaze, a cue—
as he stretched out his hand—
"Let me show you."

he doesn't talk much
but his eyes and hands do.
they do so well
that they speak even better
than i can.
i only wish i am the one
he looks at; he touches.
i only wish i am the one
he talks about.

He was calm
But he was drowning
And i was panicking
Trying to save him
He thought he could swim away
From all his problems
But he only ended up
Diving deeper into them

And i'm losing my breath for you
But i dont think that i could save us

Dont let go of me
But hold on
At least one of us wont drown alone

sometimes you're like homework
so confusing
and i just stare at you
absent-mindedly
hating you
yet you're important to me
it's so hard to finish you
and i lose inspiration every now and then
but when i get high as my grades
i come running back to you

i can't wait to graduate from school
get rid of this infatuation
we would be adults by then
and hopefully this mess will be sorted out

Ever wondered why we had to burn out or crash in flames?

Everything was on fire when i was by your side.

It all started with a spark, though.

Because i thought you were my match.

And i blame you for looking like hot stuff that Friday summer night.

echoing voice
rings in my ears
memories of you
reel in my mind
imaginary rough tips
slide between my fingers
waves of missing you
surge through my soul
your absence
cuts my heart
my cries
slit my own throat
hots tears
***** my eyes
and i'm trying my best
not to let them or myself fall

drops of rain dripping down
my window pane.
no matter how fast they fall,
they never seem to finish.
i wait, slowly and painfully.
i look again at my reflection
on the window.
those aren't raindrops.
now, for whom are these tears?

to touch your hand
would take me years
to reach in reality;
not so
when i can try
to touch your heart
with all these letters
that i'm writing to you.
will you remember me by then?

from short notes
thought up on random moments,
to long essays
that take me months to compose
—funny how i'm nowhere
near to being composed
whenever i write for and about you.

but have you heard of the fact
that the unfamiliar faces in your dreams
are faces of people you've seen in reality?
at the very least, i know
i've entered your bloodstream
the moment your eyes
settled on my words, on me.

you might not be able
to remember my words
nor will you remember me
because of them;
however i now realize
i will be able to touch you
even if it's just in my writing
and in your subconscious dreaming.

yes, we'll remember each other this way.

And you felt every moment of it. He arrived like the night, creeping up to you slowly, to take you into his arms, to embrace you, to tell you it's going to be calm and to tell you it's time to sleep. He shadowed over your figure in bed, he whispered in your ear, his breath like the night breeze touching your hair, his fingers like the moonlight lighting up your ****** features.

But you forgot some things about the night too. How his eyes darkened, how the night was supposed to make you feel scared and alone. How you felt him stand up from the bed, how he slipped right out of your hold, how you suddenly felt the lonely chill like it gets much colder as dawn draws nearer.

And the moment you opened your eyes to the light, you watched him go. He left like night, but your day wasn't bright. You squinted through the sunlight, to see him slowly fade away. It felt like you were on the poles of the earth, waiting for the moon to come around again, getting sick of the sun. It felt all so wrong, to be soaked in the sun but to feel the cold biting at your skin.

The night was all just a dream; the day is nothing but a reality. And to wake up to the exact second where the borderline of the night and day or dream and reality fades, this is how he left you.

"What do you think
scares you
the most
at night?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Not even my absence?"

"No. Rather, I think
the day
is scarier.
It proves that
your shadow
can still
reach me
even in the light.
But that only proves further
of your absence."

i begged him
to stay
behind the screen
in my dreams
in these pages
in my life
even if he was
never really mine

because if he stepped out
and i was able to hold his hand
i know i'd have to let go
but i don't know if i can

Beyond the blurred and blank images
Or a thousand faces like yours
In my dreams I never lose myself
Finding my way to your door

I don't use a map or a compass
I don't need manmade directions
Because of your soul I follow a guide--
A light of constellations

Even if I can't see you
Even if I lose my sight
The heart can only truly see what the eyes don't:
That it's better to love you in the night

MAY YOU BE BLINDED NOT BY LOVE BUT BY MY HATRED THAT YOU WILL NEVER GET TO SEE THE DAYLIGHT OR ANY GIRL'S SMILE

MAY YOU LOSE YOUR SENSE OF TOUCH THAT YOU WOULD NEVER GET TO ROAM YOUR HANDS OVER ANY OF THEIR SKIN

MAY YOU TURN DEAF AND NEVER HEAR THEIR SWEET VOICES LURING YOU INTO THEIR TRAPS

MAY YOU LOSE YOUR NOSE AND NEVER SMELL HER VANILLA SCENTED SKIN AND THAT THEY WILL ALL DESPISE YOU FOR LOOKING LIKE VOLDEMORT

MAY YOU NEVER LIVE A NORMAL LIFE AND CURSE YOU, AND YOUR LOVE LIFE

MAY YOUR WILL BE ILL WITH MY SCORN FOREVER AND EVER

Do you think
I am immortalizing you too much?
Do you want to rest in peace?
My hands want to rest as well
But the heart never stops.
To me, the one grieving,
Nothing can ever replace you.
Not another person,
nor your favorite song.
Not a picture nor a place.
Not your sweater
nor your favorite weather.
Neither your favorite book with
the highlights of your favorite quotes,
nor the words
I speak of you.
Not even more time,
nor the memory of you.

i would think of jumping sheep
but it wouldn't help me fall asleep
or listen to and read classical scores
but they don't put me to bed anymore
even to take the strongest sleeping pills
the bad thoughts and worries it could ****

but i heard your voice
you talked as i closed my eyes
it excited me like the jumping sheep
it graced my ears like the classics
but most of all

it knocked me out in an instant

She was so hung up on the moon
that she forgot it disappeared sometimes
and every time they would remind her
to which she would reply
"he's still there
quiet but aware
and i'm still here
waiting, unafraid"

but young one
do you not see the light?
the ever glow of the morn
that causes you to stir
and awaken from your slumber
that shines on you
that you may live one more day

the moon may define the day with its orbit
but it can never be called the day
without the sun

To you, who has seen him in person:

How did he look like? Was his skin smooth and white as milk; or was it a golden glow bestowed upon him? Did you see the humanistic details known as blemishes or beauty marks which usually get edited out in pictures? Was he the type of person to hold your gaze as he held your hands? Or did he look away after a few seconds? Did you see the mirth that sparkled in his glassy orbs? Did you see the smiles of other people being contained in them, that now he carries an eye smile wherever he goes? Did your eyes keep his gaze, afraid that it would break the staring spell? What of his hands, were they as warm as his eyes, or vice versa? Were they soft like a light feather, or coarse with experience of the harsh outside world? Did your eyes trace the veins that led up to his arms? They're beautiful, aren't they? How those threads of blue, green and red twisted playfully under his skin, giving him the blood to see you. How about his cheeks, did they lift; did he laugh? Did his laughter sound like little bells ringing, or a little stream through a dry desert; it was so refreshing, wasn't it? Did he even smile to the point where his eyes crinkled, forehead wrinkled, and you saw both rows of his teeth? Was his voice deep? Was it too deep that you fell deeper as well, in love? Or was it a smooth one, rich in emotion, or did you hear the innocence in his soul as he gently spoke? Was he relaxed; were his shoulders and breathing calm? Was his hair nearly as disheveled as yours? Was he perspiring from the heat or from the jitters and tension? I bet you couldn't keep calm, and you nearly hyperventilated just from sharing the same air with him. Maybe he made you less nervous with cheesy pickup lines, when you yourself planned to say it to him, in hopes of getting stuck in his head with your jokes or puns. Maybe his grip was too light on your fingers, and you felt him lose his grip and slip away-- you might have held your whole world in your hand but he only held a tiny part of his. Like how he easily walked past you with a quick acknowledging glance, one that's no special from the glances he gave to others. And you wonder if you'll appear in their minds right before they sleep, or even appear in their dreams.

Even i wonder if i can ever cross his mind as nostalgia when he sees, hears or touches something. Or if I'll be able to meet him even if it's just in our dreams, and we wake up at the same time because of it. Sometimes I fear it when the day arrives to see him; i fear the day when i finally see the look in his eyes, as if he's just staring at no one. I fear the day to hold his hand, knowing his grip wouldn't be as intense as mine. I fear the day to realize he didn't and would never feel the same way. But darling, i look forward to seeing him, because he needs to know at least that he is loved. And that thought alone comforts me.

So right now, just looking at you, my dear, is more than enough. Just having you look me in the eyes, is more than enough. Because i believe and feel his eyes which once stared at yours, are staring back at me too.

From me, who loves him