And sometimes we'll go to 7 Eleven
Get slushies &
Stay up late

But sometimes it's just
You and I
And the balcony railing
And the endless sky

When I think of you
I feel warm
Not bonfire-raging-hot
But hearth and fireplace

The conversations we spared
In the school hallway
Or in line for lunch
Or passing by on our way home
I left happier

If only I knew
Really knew
How to write poetry
To do this feeling justice

Warm but not hot
Comfortable and
Home
But something I'm afraid to call Love

It's the feeling I get when
I'm with my mom
Or my sister
And I'm scared you don't feel it back

I wish I knew why
I see you as family-like
Not that you're a bad friend,
Of course, but
Am I really that clingy?

Or is this just good friendship
And I'm just really stupid
But I knew that already

I want to love you like how I'm meant to love you
The truth is I know that love will never be true

I want to love you but it will never be real
The love we both want is not how I feel

The love I have is different from yours
Mine is restricting making me want to explode out of my pores

Maybe if I wasn't born this way then I could love you how I want to
Maybe if I was born the right way I could love you how I'm meant to

We played a game,
Where neither of us--tell a name
And yet, submerge in a ravine of shame.

We agreed to this perilous gamble
In a morbid hope of a beast to tame;

Which crawls beneath my skin
Set to devour everything akin--
       To happiness and love,
That was stowed away hidden
      In a secret trove.

These poems I write, they’re my escape,
though from what I do not know.
My troubles seem to evaporate
the moment I let them show.

I write about love, which is ironic
because I’ve never had a lover.
I used to think maybe I was sick;
for I’ve never longed for one either.

I write about death when I’m feeling down
so I can cry to something new,
but thinking to when I lost real tears,
maybe they weren’t mine to lose.

Even now as I write this down
- my headphones on but paused -
I wonder where my motives are bound,
for I always feel like a fraud.

my fingertips are cold, with slowed movement
and there is a grace to them, dancing in such a sorrowful way
I'd almost think they were longing for someone
to hold them, locking each other, and brushing against

and yet, my mind grows uneasy at that idea of warmth
I draw my frigid hands away, escaping the touch
how unbearable it would be, in all reality
they remain as they are, how i'd prefer, lonely.

Hindi kailan man umiba ang pintig ng puso,
Pusong ikinabit sa mga emosyon,
Emosyon na hindi malaman kung bakit nagsimula,
Nagsimula at bumuhay sa magugulong pangarap,
Pangarap na magmamahal ngunit hindi kayang isuko,
Isuko ang puso para sa iba.

Iba, iyan sila. At iba ka rin sakanila,
Sakanila na nagsasabing darating din ang araw na magmamahal,
Magmamahal ng buong puso at kaluluwa,
Kaluluwang hindi sigurado kung totoo nga ba,
Totoo nga bang may kahati ka,
May kahati ka, at ako nga ba?

Ngunit lumipas ang panahon,
Panahon na nasayang sa paghahanap sa tutugon,
Tutugon sa kaisipang itinatak nila sa isipan,
Sa isipan kong naguguluhan.

Ngunit aking napagtanto,
Napagtanto na hindi lahat iibig sa alam nilang paraan,
Paraan kung saan ang dalawa o higit pang tao ay pupunan ang kakulangan,
Kakulangan na sabi nila'y mabubuo lamang,
Mabubuo lamang kapag nagtagpo ang mga pusong natutong magmahalan.

Ngunit paano nga ba magmahal?
Magmahal ng isinusuko ang lahat,
Lahat na gagawin ko rin sa aking mga kaibigan,
Mga kaibigang handang pakinggan,
Pakinggan tulad ng pakikinig sa boses mo,
Sa boses mo na tila tumugon sa boses ko,
Sa boses ko na bigla nalang din natigilan.

Ngunit hindi ito para sa'yo,
Sa'yo kung saan may nagpatigil ng tinig ko,
Tinig ko na nagtatanong nanaman,
Nagtatanong nanaman kung bakit tila may mali sa sariling pagkakakilanlan,
Pagkakakilanlan sa puso at sa pagmamahal nitong alam.

Isang araw gumising nalang,
Gumising nalang at napagalaman,
Napagalaman na maraming paraan ng pagmamahal,
Pagmamahal na posible minsan,
Minsan... o siguro nga'y kadalasan,
Kadalasan ay iba ang pagkaunawa,
Pagkaunawa sa pag-ibig na pilit nilang itinatatak sa isipan.

We like chopping our love into pieces.
We like labeled jars, tiny portions;
we ration bits to our mothers, our friends,
our courtly lovers, clinging and clutching,
no crumbs for the people we don't know.
The truth is, there is one, enormous love.
One fire in the hearth, one warmth,
one cornucopia resplendent on the table.
There is one home in your heart
for all of it.

If I told you I could love,
Would you finally be happy?
See me grovel at your feet, submit to your delusions of
The perfect world in the palm of your hand.

If I told you I could lust,
Would I satisfy your thirst with my lies?
Sweet drops of honey covered deception, the sting solely in my heart.

Could I live like this, I wonder.
If only I could face the road of rotten land, live in the shadows and the muck of sweet lies,
Of honey covered poison.