If I Make It Out Alive

I would be nothing like the last time you

remember me.

Seconds were lifetimes of questions passed

hiding underneath sacred sheets and

below room temperature musings.

And in those moments I’ve changed

twelve times in all different forms of

my self-loathing, four of those

because of your abandonment.

 

“You didn’t get the hint for the past month” 

Like besides the words hurled between

us, and a phone call receiver reply of

apologies,

a comfort and decay of

the familiar,

I still have to find  the spots where

the sun decides to give

some clarity,

that I still  have to search for

the red flags you

discreetly waved.

 

She’s exactly like you.”

So in those two weeks of

coffee crumble,

I heard nothing of your sweet

exchange that’s bitter to

the taste of our mundane-ness;

The facade was still the same,

I was just like her you said.

But better.

Better folds, better breasts,

better leg openings and thighs

that you’ve caressed.

I wonder if she smelled like me

too,

but how would you know?

 

“I love her.” 

I had never heard the night

so quiet,

its voice was lost in the

abyss,

and everything suspended

from all the things that

I had known about you

rumbled like an avalanche.

The stars choked on its

own and is consumed

seconds after the death

of the pyre.

 

“She’ll leave him for me.”

And you left me for her.

 

 

 

Yellow House

I

The ink that was used

To write your postmortem

was barely drying when I

realized the storm had died down.

And no gardens dared to bloom

on your hospital bed as

you searched

across the glass wall

a familiar face,

your babes,

nowhere to be seen in the

sea of beeps and

daffodils–

but you brave through it all,

wide-eyed, facing death

in a manner in which it

was humbled;

The dying was not graceful,

You knew it never was,

but death could never raise

its chin and look you in

the eye

without marvelling at

the temple it

had conquered.

II

And all that’s left of you

is this house.

A rotting cheese in between

Cracks,

squeezed among the

talking walls.

III

He never stepped foot

inside your shared room.

Only once, when he

imagined you’re in

the  bathroom

shunning your monsters

asked for your clothes-

He opened the drawers that

was full of you, your

veins, overlapping at the

seams.

A tight grip squeezed

what’s left of regrets;

reciting your

dreams over and over

won’t ever bring

you back.

IV

It was at 4pm when I heard

the news;

the sunlight lends its rays

to the two souls

breaking.

The crowded room seemed

To sleep in the whispers

of the cooled room,

the whirr

Enveloping the needle

that fell in the vast

nothingness of time.

She’s gone.

V

I never tasted tears

with heavy bitterness

when it comes to her;

Only feathered

comfort,

on cold cement.

Seen 1:55am

That’s the thing; 

I nurse pain like how
You could’ve embrace me
Until life had escaped
From my wrists.

Blades sharpened by the past
became my bow,
Fitting four strings into
One row,
Or column,
Those blues and reds that
Mapped my insides
To where it hurt

My broken spirit has held its
Last thread before it became
Unseen,
It was so thin, for a short time
I thought the world
Was plastic-like transparent,
Shiny but unreal

The sorrow comes in waves,
Not like grapes in bunches,
Not in twos,
Not two souls lacking,
Not when He lived.

And as if life became too believable,
For once, I wished for immunity,
Where I hold nothing,
But my nakedness and solitude,
Like a baby, a bundle full of
Sedatives,
Of sleeplessness

I want you to hold me like water.
I want to be dripping from your
Arms to your clothes,
I want you to  feel that I’m
Not ghost like how people
Walk this earth

I need you.
Truly, without lies,
You are everything that the world
Has done right,
In this moment,
And even in bitter words
Or tears,
I’d like you to be the only
Place I’d go to,
To mute the inevitable
Agony of us all.

Why So Sudden

It seems as though

I have mastered
The art of knowing
When one soul,
Stops looking at my
Skies.

It seems I have seen too
Much backs walking
Away, to know
the air had shifted
From promises to
decay.

And everytime I’d see
Patterns,
Psychedelic greys
In a person,
Of how they say hello,
their words,
A curt of misery
An unspoken
Putting out of
The flame,
I’d know that the clock
Has started the countdown
Until they leave,
Until he leaves.

By then, I’d have days
Upon days of anticipation,
Of my heart sinking into
The depths where it onced
Caged itself for safe
Solitude,
Of this unbearable waiting
I’d have to endure before
Saying goodbye.
By then, I know I’ve
Already died.

With Reckless Abandon

All things that would catch me,

All things that would make me sleep,
All things that love me;

I irritate them with daydreams
Of things I’m scared of while I’m
Awake,
passing time like I’ve got a lifetime
Or two,
Floating away to where I’m
Not used to.

I’m a stranger to the familiar,
The recklessness of doing something
Not you,
Or close to,
Trying to live a life of seven plus
Two more days of catching
The blues,
I reckon

I’d live a day not knowing myself,
That knowing me right before life
Starts
Right before the stars were made,
Right before living itself.

Natural Selection

Sometimes, 

I’d like to think that
We’re all just inside
One small fishbowl
Where the ever-seeing
fishbowl owner
Looks at us neglect
Our very own fishbowls
Shaking his head,
Muttering that he
Shouldn’t have made
Fishbowls
For us instead,
Or fish,
But then he
Would want our
Tastebuds to
Explode with the
Taste,
Or caviar,
Those gold tongues,
Slurping fish eggs,
High class as f–
Funny
How some people
Believe we come
From fish more than
We did from
Monkeys,
And Darwin’s
Evolution would want
Us to swallow
That we eat bananas
Anfd lice all day,
But except we
Agreed that we’d
Like to monkey around,
Monkey business,
Secrets.

But he did let us have
Fishbowls.
We filled it with water
Like how the fishbowl
Owner filled his
Fishbowl with water.
We called it rain,
We called it sea,
We called it grace,
We called it thought.

The only thing he didn’t
Tell us about was
We have to swim
So we won’t drown. 

Aloe Vera

You sent me a picture of two animated aloe vera plants hugging each other, and at the bottom it said “Aloe you Vera much.” It was funny, but for me? 
Wow.

It was meant as a joke, a pun that we’d both get, and we laugh at memes so much, it’s too unromantic for two people to be sharing the sugar from a picture with plants and meant everything. You meant everything. You soothe me. You told me I was difficult, but I liked how you said it like it was easy to love my difficult. We were plants, you entangled me in your dreams, and how many limbs could I give fate and time for you to hold me in your arms.

Aloe you Vera much too.