Seven

and half of me isn't even; but loving you feels like heaven

the runaway girl

How much could money offer
that you would trade your parents
for freedom?
What could your mind decipher
to make you decide
for the better?
Who would possibly tell
that it was the right move
so you would feel brave and well?
Where could a vehicle take you
that you would demand for a stop
and the never going back?
When did a day grew into weeks
and pieces of them into months
of you being here not ever?
However you go, go, and go
leaving them the feeling of cry
the asking of why, why, and why?

(and so much more)

True love

is when you find out
your hidden secret
lying helplessly on the back
of your mind

Deep down
and you kiss the blemish
away
but it’s still there

A history
wherein you accepted
and let
it
go.

Because crap happens
and stars die
but you’re alive
(but you’re alive)

And you remember
second chances
and in
believing

Putting faith
once more
in yourself
(in yourself)

True love first exists
in You
and then
in you

and you love others
and you love others back
cos there is more
to life
and so
much
more.

||

A hopeful dismay

Some nights
I dream of first love
Of a field of dandelions
Of blowing seeds and going above

I see you in that rowboat
Arms swing, eyes touch
Much more than a fling
Where I stand, I think I can judge

I think of we
We, on top of the tower
We, under the starry night
We, beside each other

But all what’s left was I
Tower got damaged and broken
And the clouds hid the stars
No one parallel to, again

Rowboat floated alone
Arms gone, eyes nothing
Much more than dismay
Where I stood, I think of everything

Some nights
I dream of first love
Of sunflowers this time
Of promises that could actually rhyme

And some nights, once more
I stay hopeful
I add fuel to the flame
Will this end up just the same?

For my two significant women, it’s been a while

Time, an element in life, is tricky.

Most times, I see two years, five years, ten years from now—a really long time. When other times, I wake up, feel the sun heat on my skin, and realize that those years have passed by already.

Time makes you think that minutes are just too short-spanned and hours are just waiting around a corner. It makes you think that years feel so far away and maybe, just maybe, decades are out of reach. But think again.

Time is tricky at its finest.

 
I can’t say that I miss you. Because truth be told, I never get the chance to talk to you. I never get the chance to kiss your cheek or say thanks for everything. And even say goodbye. I never had those chances. You were there for the first few years of my infancy and how I wish I felt your warm embrace when I get to actually register in my mind the actual moment that you actually hugged me. For more than ten years since you last saw me, I thank you for those little spectacles. I mean it.

I only saw you in pictures. I only knew you from their stories. And yet, I still feel loved by you way back in my early days. Don’t you worry, your kids are in good molding because of you.

 
I can’t say that I don’t miss you. You were one of the cool kids. You were one heck of confidence when it comes to talent. You were one of the people I shared secrets and stories with. You were there, standing, laughing, dreaming, singing away the blues. But the blues went straight to me, to us, when we heard the news. It’s been three years since someone wrote you a song. Three years since we slept at your house, with you sleeping on a white bed. Three years since I last saw your calm face and I cried buckets. Three years, and I still can hum that song chorus.

I still can remember. I will remember. Don’t you worry, we’re still dreaming big and a lot like what you’d be doing too right now. I miss you.

 
Time tastes bad some days when I remember poisoned apples and spiders on the wall. But it feels so good when some days you reminisce the pleasant ones, the happy times, the unforgettable moments. Time is anything depending on how you will depict time.

 

Because for me, time is tricky in a way you want to give it a treat.

 

Promise me you won’t

I’ll tell you a secret. A weird one. And promise me you won’t tell anyone.

||

I first knew this when I got nightmares, and I finally told mom one night ’cause I couldn’t keep it in. She made me sleep on her lap, hummed, and stroked my hair. But I couldn’t count the sheeps in numbers because I somehow felt like mom was watching me, looking at me while doing what she was doing, and it somehow bugged me out. I tried to look at her and I was right.

I thought that I was just overthinking it when I was younger, but when I had my first serious relationship, it crept out of me again.

“Don’t look at me, I’m sleeping,” I told him in irritation.
“How sure are you that I’m doing that right now?” he asks in mild tease, stirring his late-night coffee drink.
“I hate you.” He laughed.
He was standing there, drinking his coffee, looking at me.
“For the love of the angel, Paul, let me sleep.”
“Not until you tell me…”
“Alright I will, just…get on the bed with me.” I yawned. “Please.”

He laughed that sweet manly laugh. I heard him put the cup on the table, swiftly kissed my forehead, and went beside me. Wrapping his arms around me, I felt his breaths on my hair.

I told him my secret. He asked. I replied I don’t know how I got it or even why. He laughed. He understood. We had a good night sleep.

 

We had good ones until we broke apart.

 

Two years have passed since this day when—

You driving.
We arguing.
Me being childish.
You being reckless.
Smooth road.
Car approaching.

And two nights from the last two years since, I thought I heard your sweet manly laugh, and from a distance, a stirring of a coffee cup.

And I swear, I know something was bugging me out.

 

“For the love of the angel, Paul, let me sleep.”

 

||

I

I get tired
I lose hope
My glass of water pours out
My glass of water

Breaks
like I break apart when
you ask me what was wrong

I break apart ’cause I

Cannot crumple my
torn emotions like
a paper
to keep away for good

I cannot
any longer

Any further
Anyhow I wanted to

I feel sick
I feel disoriented
but
I must

Drown
the feelings I forcefully
keep intact and

Maybe
I need to flush them out
now
that I found light

So light I might be flying

I have to keep up
Chin up
Get my hopes up

Once more because
some times

I get lost
I get stuck
I found myself
I freed myself
But some

Other times
I

I found myself

Needing you—
to find me.

Entry 40

“Are you certain? You’re going to buy me a hoodie?”

By far the most unmaterialistic guy I have ever known.

I forgot how we ended up talking about this. But then I asked you if you want one and you said absolutely. So I decided that, for starters, hoodies are nice to give. Besides birthday gifts and little mementos, I really haven’t given you anything that I know you would certainly like. Like really.

So yes.

I’m gonna buy you a hoodie. —L

Come now. Take me. No fear.

aaaaaaaaaadawn so meek
aaaaaaaaaatil morning i seek
aaaaaaaaaathe birds they hum
aaaaaaaaaathis day has come
aaaaaaaaaaever the hero
aaaaaaaaaaoh so my Romeo
aaaaaaaaaacome take me now
aaaaaaaaaago to where we found our vow
aaaaaaaaaai’ll see the sunlight
aaaaaaaaaacome shining so bright
aaaaaaaaaaside by side we hold
aaaaaaaaaaa tale likely to be told
aaaaaaaaaai’ll stay by you til sunset
aaaaaaaaaalikewise you do i bet
aaaaaaaaaacome now take me no fear
aaaaaaaaaaoh i love you my dear

When seeing finally meet believing

Looking up, I see less than five stars. The sky feels different tonight.

I stare  into space—the blackness eats me whole. It lingers on the delicate areas inside me then pushes me deeper and swallows me right into the dark.

The process weighs me down, and a million of stars explode within me. Gleams of neon colors dance around; specks of light and glitters float everywhere. I want to touch them, to feel them but they are going on in a different direction. And suddenly they’re all gone and I am back in the dark.

I am back within your presence. And you are back to say your goodbye.

I didn’t dare ask anything of how and why. I just know what the answer is. What truth is that lies on your presence. You calmly take your things and scattered clothes. And you take a moment of silence to stare back at me.

In the months when you were gone, I felt a sting that came from my doubting self. I pushed that feeling away because I have no proofs and valid arguments, and no reason why I have to. I reminded myself of our dreams and on why you decided to go.

But that didn’t give me back my peace of mind. So I said to myself that I have to see you first before believing into something lonely, hopeless, and tragic.

Looking at you, I see less than a half of the man I knew before. You feel different tonight.

Or maybe not just tonight.

You put your hand on my shoulder and say your final words.

I am not the man for you.

The words, magically, bring my peace of mind for good.

For keeps

The evening got cold. And so was our food on the dining table. But not you. You were always wearing this warmth I now become used to. Except when you’re mad—your candlelight somehow fades out. But you were this one person to make me feel certain even if it is not, just by the way you hold me in your arms.

And there we were, sitting on the sofa, watching you change networks from the music channel and back again. You asked me if I was hungry. I replied with a shook of my head. And then you told me you were going to ask me something, again. And again with that feeling of uneasiness every time you say that—there are these walls inside me waiting and wanting to collapse as soon as you ask me what you want with that tone and look. I think I am holding my breath every single time you do that. Or maybe I am just way too overthinking things.

Because you asked me something no one ever did.

No matter what happens, promise me you would be my friend ‘til the end?

The simplicity of the question makes me want to laugh out loud and hug you tight at the same time. It sounds too cliché-y, I know that, you know that. But you asked anyway. I want to laugh out loud because I was thinking about a lot more serious thing way better than this and to ease the worry that I was feeling thinking about a lot more serious thing way better than this. I want to hug you tight because of how you looked me in my eyes, saying those words that felt so emotional, sincere, genuine. And I looked intently to you I can see myself smile in your eyes.

Between a millisecond and another point millisecond of my heartbeat, I felt a rush back from the past, throwing flashes of moments where we belong. I was seeing ourselves—snapshots of the happy times, the sad parts, the winning moments. Your eyes highlights them, capturing them and your eyelids go click, click, click.

I don’t care how cliché it might look, or on how it sounds, at what it costs. But believe me when I say that when you’ve found someone who asked that to you, and your heart decided to hold on for a beat and pumps again in a more renowned rhythm, keep the promise. And cling onto it no matter what. A friend for keeps, is one of the many things life can offer.

Yes.

I hold out my pinkie finger, and I was in such glee as you interlocked yours with mine, sealing our vow. We smiled. We promised.

We promised.