Showing posts with label emanon. Show all posts

Literary: Huling Tulang Isusulat Para Sa Iyo





Nagsawa--
Nagsawa na ang pusong ito
Sa pagtibok para sa iyo,
Sa paghabol sa mga bagay na hindi sigurado,
Sa pag-asang mapagtatagpi-tagpi pa muli
Ang bawat pahina ng pagmamahalang iniwan natin--
Iniwan mo, sa akin--
Sapagkat ako na lamang yata
Ang nag-iisang tanga na patuloy na umaasang,
Kung hindi man maibalik ang dati
Ay sana maisara na ang libro
Nitong pag-iibigan natin--

Natin--
Nakakatawang isipin,
Hanggang ngayo'y itinuturing ko itong atin,
Kahit na malinaw pa sa sikat ng araw
Na ako na lang ang patuloy na kumakapit
Sa mga pirasong ito--
Punit-punit,
Halatang walang pag-asang mapagkabit-kabit.
Habang ikaw--

Ikaw--
Na nasalba mula sa pagkaligaw
Dulot ng naudlot na istorya nating dalawa.
Ikaw na masaya, maligaya
Ngayon, sa piling ng iba.
Habang ako,
Ako na naghahanap ng magliligtas,
Ako na naghahanap pa rin ng wakas
Sa libro nitong pag-iibigan nating
Iniwan mong bukas--

Bukas--
Isa na namang araw ang aking gugugulin.
Itatatak sa puso at isip na wala ka na sa akin.
Kung ganoon lang sana kadali
Na ako na lang ang tumapos,
Na ako na lang ang umayos,
Subalit hindi, hindi maari,
Dahil tayong dalawa ang lumikha nito
At hindi maaring ang tayo
Ay matapos lamang sa akin--

Akin--
Wala na nga palang akin.
Ano pa ang ipinaglalaban,
Ipinagsisigawan,
Ng mga damdaming lipas na ang hangarin.
Siguro'y panahon na para hayaan
Na ako na lamang mag-isa
Ang magwakas,
Ang sa akdang ito'y magsara
Dahil bumalik ka man,
Hindi naman na maayos pa
Ang isang librong sirang-sira--

Sira--
Heto ngayon ako, sira
Subalit sa pagdedesisyong
Bumitaw na at maging malaya,
Muli akong babangon
Mula sa aking pagkadapa.
Bubuo ako ng bagong istorya.
Tatalikuran na ang mga pirasong pilit inayos.
At kung sakali mang iyong balikan
Itong kuwentong nauna mo nang lisan,
Sa mga dulong pahina,
Ang tulang ito'y aking iiwan--

Iiwan--
Isang tula mula sa taong iyong iniwan,
Isang tulang sa lahat ay magwawakas,
Isang tulang magsisilbing pahimakas.
Napagod na ako't tuluyang natuto.
Kaya dito,
Sa aking tuluyang pag-alpas,
Nais kong malaman mo,
Ito na ang huling tulang isinulat ko
Para sa iyo.

Literary: Sunset





5:24 pm
We were lilacs and tangerines
In a perfectly painted sunset sky
Luck must have worked its magic when
Two shades at far ends of the color wheel
Met to parade their otherworldly glow
Each time the sun begins to slow

11:11 pm
The overcast inches hastily
Turning the warmth of the afternoon
To bleakness of the gloaming
What once were lilacs and tangerines,
Now tenebrous hues of blue
And to plead was all I could do

2:00 am
The moment our blues turned to blacks
Is when I knew we’ve lost to luck
Luck’s a filthy foe for chancing upon us
At sunset
Which lasts but a few minutes
But burns everything with it in its hellish glow

5:55 am
Till cockcrow I tend to the burns
From the radiance
We thought as serendipity
Still I ponder,
Was the sunset our destiny
Or a sign of how we are not meant to be?

Literary: Hunted






The room was dark and cold. Lights were turned off, A/C’s boosted to max. Only the light from my laptop illuminated the vast darkness of the room. Papers were scattered everywhere, wildlife photographs were laid on my bed, a laptop and a camera were on my desk along with circular coffee stains on the sheets. For hours, I’ve been staring at my screen as I browse through the projects I’ve done in the past. A couple of clicks and drags, I stumbled upon a photo series that was rather striking.

Shot 1 – Fawn staring straight into the camera: It was a white-tailed deer left alone by its mother. From my experience, it was a male fawn. He stood there—they tend to not leave where they were left, it was an instinct. I grabbed the chance, placed my eye against the viewfinder, adjusted the lens, and took shots of the fawn. His eyes were glistening of innocence—just like how a young fawn should act. Was he scared? Was he oblivious to my presence? I wonder. Either way, it was a good shot.

Shot 2 – Fawn feeds on leaves: I decided to follow this fawn, maybe until he grows up to be a full-grown deer. Upon reviewing the previous photos, I found him quite interesting—a photogenic subject. This time, the fawn along with his mother made their way toward these low hanging branches. I followed until they halted, saw them reach for the leaves and some fruits, and chew on them. Natural scenery. I grabbed on to my camera and took photos. Normal, boring, but it was naturally executed—just shows how these animals live their lives.

Shot 3 – Fawn with herd: Days passed, I learned that these two were a part of a large herd—a large family. They were varied—two with huge antlers, some with bright tan fur, another with long legs, and there was the fawn with its notable white spots. One with huge antlers dropped a branch, teeming with fruits, from the grip of its teeth. Once dropped, the others gathered around to feed on what’s brought to the herd. Maintaining my distance, I took shots. Family—it was what the photo was telling, that even these creatures have their kind to treat as family.

Shot 4 – Fawn trots during sunset: The fawn grew up, to the point that he was lively trotting on the wide prairie. It was afternoon, the sun was setting. He trotted, jumped, repeatedly. I’ve never seen him felt so alive other than that time. Not a second was wasted, I heightened the shutter speed, and took a couple of shots. It was an outstanding photo of a leaping deer creating a silhouette behind the setting sun. The energy, the joy, the happiness, I felt them upon viewing the photo—he was happy that he was alive.

Shot 5 – Fawn shot dead: It has been months since the last time I took a photograph of the deer. As I made my way towards their location, I heard a gunshot from afar—I rushed to the scene. Dead, he was shot dead. Blood was spreading on the forest ground as the herd he was with circled around him. I felt the despair, the melancholy, the misery these creatures felt—they were letting out loud whines. He was hunted down. But for what reason? For bounty? For praise? I wasn’t able to comprehend. He was harmless, he did nothing to these humans, he lived normally, he had a family, he loved his life, he was not capable of fighting back—for goodness sake, he was a young one. I took the last photograph, and left with a heavy heart.
I went back to my car, threw my camera onto the backseat, and let out a big sigh. As I held the wheel, I wondered, what if humans suffer the same fate as these poor creatures? What if we are treated the same? What if we, humans, are the ones ruthlessly killed for the sake of cheap cash and meager praise?

And that was when I remembered, we already are.

Literary: Run Away





4mi. 27:36.50. I’m getting a little slower than my past few runs. Sweat runs from my temples down to my chin, from my neck down to my shoulders and back, and all limbs are also drenched. My heartbeat is faster than the way my legs worked my run a while ago. Trying to catch my breath, I look up as I pant. The sky is different now from when I started running: from a hue that of cinnabar, it turned into a mellow shade of dark blue. The frigid wind of February blends with the sweat that covers my skin—cold.

Every mile was hell—to my legs, my lungs, my mind, my heart. I thought it’d only beat me physically—I was wrong. The first strong strides were completely normal, but as I progressed, as I grew weary, my mind started working as well. Thoughts started crashing in one after the other—thoughts of you, of us, and of everything with it. It’s funny how I pondered about my life in half an hour.

1st mi. 6:48.10. Too fast—it was all too fast. We met, and after a few awkward moments, we clicked. I loved the warmth of your company. You listened to me and all the nonsense I blabbered about, and so did I to you. We shared a lot of things together—realizations on life, stories about the person we like, experiences no matter how stupid they were, and moments spent together. From the most random boiling down to the deepest sentiment, we had them all. You became my go-to person, a friend I could always lean on. Without noticing, I got used to you being around and I have to admit, I never felt this kind of comfort around someone for a long time.

2nd mi. 6:57.15. Sluggish—as if the world turned a little slower than usual. Nights felt longer—every evening conversation mattered. Hugs felt warmer than they were before. You paint smiles on my face. And it was quite dull when you weren’t around. You started to look different in my eyes. We were a step farther from being friends—a little closer I guess. Until to my heart, you stood by. It was as if you moved close to the warmth of a bonfire in the middle of a cold night. Slowly, slowly, little by little, you moved close—too close that you burned yourself from the fire.

3rd mi. 6:51.18. Panic—I lost hold of the pace. The same heat was burning me too. I’m afraid of the fire, of the thing that I was feeling for I felt that it was not right—I was afraid of love. For a long time, I believed that love would only break after some time. The strong bond you made would only be broken by some force you are not aware of, leaving you helpless, alone, begging for the thing you once felt before. I didn’t want that to happen to us, not because I didn’t believe in the chances that it’d be you and me in the end, but because I didn’t want to risk it. And my fear, my loss of heart, led me to run away from everything that was happening—led us to part. I thought it was the right thing to do—to burn bridges before they were even built.

4th mi. 7:00.07. Too long—it felt like we’ve been away for too long. Stupid decisions yield stupid results—burning bridges ended up burning me. It was so ironic that the event I tried to avoid only ended up happening. What I ran away from now chases me down when I thought I have already left it behind. Our time together that I treasured and protected is now just ashes and memories of the past. Now, I lost you, together with a part of me that you held in your hands. What’s worse is that I can never run back, or if I did, some things aren’t really capable of repair anymore.

Looking up as my sweat runs down my body, I wondered. I’ve been running for a few days, weeks, or maybe even months now—why was I even doing this? To run away from everything again? Those 4 miles felt like an eternity, maybe I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. I took a sip of my water bottle, grabbed my towel, wiped the sweat off of me, and packed up to head home. Heavy breaths, sore limbs, my vision spinning round—I’m tired of running, of thinking, of feeling.

I just want to rest.

Literary: Hindi Na Kailangan Pa




6:05AM. Huli na naman ako sa klase. Sumusuot ang liwanag ng araw sa mga siwang ng kurtina, na siyang nagbibigay ilaw sa madilim kong kwarto. Nakakairita, ang liwanag. Hirap akong idilat ang mga mata— mabibigat at selyado ng muta mula sa nakaraang gabi. At nang makadilat, ilang minuto rin akong nakatitig sa kisame, nag-iisip kung paano itatayo ang katawang daig pa ang lantang gulay sa panghihina. Bawat galaw ay tinalo pa ang pagong sa bagal. Mula sa dadalawang subong almusal, hanggang sa pagbabad sa mainit na tubig sa pagligo— lahat mabagal, tila walang-gana.
Ano ba ang nangyari kagabi? Nakakarindi, nakakatakot, nakakalungkot. Subalit, hindi naman na kailangang malaman pa ng iba.
7:10AM. Huli na nga, mabagal pa rin ang bawat hakbang ko patungo sa klasrum. Wala na naman akong aabutan sa mga itinuturo. Pagkapasok, abutan ng pagsusulit noong nakaraang linggo. Iba ang tingin ng guro sa pag-abot ng papel ko. Masama, tila nanghuhusga. Bagsak— wala naman nang bago dito. “Anong score mo?” tanong mula sa gilid ko. “Ganun pa rin, wala nang pinagbago.” Kanya-kanya nang pag-iingay at kumparahan ng markang nakuha. May mga masaya, iyong mga matataas at nakapasa. May mga sinakluban ng langit at lupa sa lungkot, iyong mga bagsak na naman at may ibababa pa pala ang marka.
Anong naramdaman ko? Nalulungkot, nagsasawa. Subalit, hindi naman na kailangang malaman pa ng iba.
12:10PM. Ang sampung minuto mula sa oras ng tanghalian ay malaking bagay— nagkakaubusan na ng pagkain. Nagkakagulo ang mga tao sa kantina, kala mo’y hindi pinapakain sa mga bahay nila. Nagkakabanggaan sa pagmamadali, nagdidikit ang mga balat na lumagkit na sa pawis at singaw ng nakulob na hangin sa kantina. Hindi na ko pumasok. Hindi na bale, ayaw ko nang makigulo.
Hindi ba ako nagugutom? Oo, nagugutom. Subalit, hindi naman na kailangang malaman pa ng iba.
5:00PM. Oras na nang uwian. Kating-kati na ang lahat na makauwi. Bago pa magpaalam sa guro, nakatayo na, nakasukbit ang bag at handang-handa nang lumabas. Ako, mabagal pa rin ang galaw, naunahan pa ng guro sa paglabas. Sa bungad ng pintuan ay may nag-aabang. “Bakit parang ang tamlay mo ngayon?” tanong sa akin ng aking kaibigan. “Wala naman, tinatamad lang talaga.” Ilang beses din siyang nagtanong, nangamusta— hindi ako makasalita. Hanggang sa magsawa na siya. Sa dulo’y umuwi na ako nang mag-isa.
Ayaw ko ba na may nag-aalala para sa akin? Hindi ako sigurado. Subalit, hindi naman na kailangang malaman pa ng iba.
7:00PM. Alam ko na ang kahihinatnan ko—gabi-gabi naman nang ganito. Paglapag ko ng gamit ko sa aking kwarto, maririnig ko na ang dalawang boses na hindi na natigil sa pagtatalo. Kahit ganoon, sisilip ako para bumati na nakauwi na ako. Isang lalaking nanghihina at nakaratay sa kama, at isang babaeng hagos na hagos na habang naka-uniporme pang pantrabaho. “May ibinalita na naman sakin ‘yung teacher mo. Kailan mo ba balak mag-aral, ha?” tanong mula sa babae. “Mag-aayos na nga po sa susunod,” na alam naman naming lahat na di magkakatotoo. At sa pagtalikod ko ay patuloy na muli ang sagutan. Handa na ang hapunan, ngunit hindi ko na gugustuhing galawin. Gusto ko na lang mahiga sa kama, ibalot ang sarili sa kumot at kumapit sa isang malambot na unan. At muli, lulunurin ko na naman ang unang ito ng mga luhang gabi-gabi na lang dumadaloy. Nakakagulat na hindi ito nauubos.
At kung gusto ko bang ibahagi sa iba ang pinagdadaanan ko sa pag-asang matutulungan nila ako?
Hindi na lang— hindi naman na kailangang malaman pa ng iba.

Literary: Fork





April. Though it was summer, it was pouring hard; a typhoon was in the forecast. The smell of petrichor goes along with the humid summer air. There I stood, under a shed, holding a closed umbrella on my left and a hand on my right. I was enthralled by the sound of raindrops falling on the galvanized iron sheets of the shed. The tiny drops would come together and fall down from the roof, like water coming out of a nozzle. And as they crash down the floor, they’d break into little droplets again.

I was staring at the rain for too long, until you held my hand tighter, “Observing things around you again, aren’t you?” You knew me too well. “Sorry for asking you out on a rainy day,” I responded, “I’ll take you to your place.” And that was when the bus arrived.

“Another spontaneous date again this time, isn’t it?” Together with a faint laugh and smile. It was our second year together. We didn’t mind what we were doing anyway. We laughed out loud in cafes sipping cold coffee. We slept in movie houses, only waking up at the end of the film. We tried baking at your house, but burnt every single cookie. Everything was fine as long as it was with you, even the simple bus rides home.

You wouldn’t let me sit by the window side, I’d daydream. And when you’re the one taking that spot, you’d doze off. The latter was favorable. With my arms around your shoulder, I’d pull you closer to my chest as you fall into deep slumber. With you so close to me, I’d be able to appreciate even the smallest details of your entirety. From the scent of your hair that smells of lavender shampoo, your rosy cheeks that complements your fair skin, your hands so soft and smooth, the tips of your long eyelashes, even the small whispers you make while you’re asleep. Funny how I observed all of these; that’s what you get for not letting me sit by the window side.

Those trips were too short for me to know you even more. Once the bus halts, we’d alight and walk hand in hand down to your place; it was time for us to part. A kiss on the cheek, a smile from a heavy-eyed face, and a sweet adieu from your lips. After a long day, I was alone again, and no clues brought me to think that it would last for a long time.

“I’m tired of everything,” the last thing you said. I thought you didn’t mind our spontaneous dates, the awkward silences. I thought you appreciated the little things, the simple bus rides home. I was too complacent to notice, that I was the only one who loved them.

I tried going on the same trail you’re travelling so that we’d be walking down the same path, down the same aisle in the future. We did, but now we’ve hit a fork on the road, leading us to the separate worlds we’ve been before. We rode the same bus home, but still, at some point we had to part.

September. A season for stronger storms. Everyone was rushing to get a ride home. I stood under a shed holding a closed umbrella on my left, and nothing on my right. Again, I watched the raindrops fall down the roof, long until the bus arrives. As I board, I sat down in a seat by the window side. I gazed at the seats across mine, and to my surprise there was a girl who sat by the window side together with a guy who embraced her to his chest.

Yes, there you go. You took the new trail and moved along faster and easier, while I was still stuck on the fork, trying to know which path to take.

Literary: Hide and Seek





34°C, the average summer heat. Though it is scorching hot outside, the temperature didn’t bother the children; it didn’t bother us at all. Summer is about the outdoor games, the sweat, the shared stories and laughter, and everything that will make our souls alive before it gets dark. I was 6 then, young, bold, active. You’d always pull your favorite chair under the tree in front of our house, grab today’s newspaper to read the news or probably solve a crossword puzzle, and watch me as I play on the streets. The heat was bad for your health, but still, you were persistent.

“When we play hide and seek, if you’re ‘It,’ you cannot peek. Try to find us, we won’t quit. Start to count, because you’re ‘It’!” You knew how much I loved this game, just like how much I love you.

“One.” You always gave me what I want. I’d sob on the grocery floor for not getting that Tomica that I already grabbed from the counter, but you were there whispering to me, “Don’t worry. I’ll get it for you,” and wipe the tears off my face. The things my mom and dad were unable to give me, you did, you always did.

“Two.” You never failed to prove your ‘I love you.’ From the simple good nights you gave, with a kiss on my forehead to top it off, to the times that I felt buried underneath the dirt. A hand was always there to save me from grief, a shoulder was always there to cry on, a hug was always there to keep me warm, and a heart was always there to love me.

“Three.” You were the best woman for me. The best dancer, with your vivacious ballroom moves. The best singer, with your mellifluous lullabies of classical tunes. The best cook, with your mouth-watering delicacies. The best comedian, with your over-the-top sense of humor. The best person I knew, for simply being ‘you’.

For countless times, you played this with me when I wasn’t able to go out. Once you start to chant, I’d run and hide away. You knew too well that I’d hide under the bed, behind the door of the living room, or inside the cabinets in your own room. Nevertheless, you were the best actress to pretend to not know; funny how you fed my ego.

Then, I always hid, but now, 10 years later, I’m ‘It’.

“One.” One big sigh.
“Two.” Two tear-stricken eyes.
“Three.” Three last words.
“Ready or not, here I come.”
You were ready, I was not.

You ran and hid too fast away from me. I wasn’t able to catch up. And when I did, I only questioned you for hiding too suddenly, hiding too well. You hid inside a white oak case, well-groomed and dressed, surrounded by aromatic flowers and plangent cries. Unconsciously, I fell to my knees and tears started to pour out of my eyes; I lost. I lost you, without being able to tag you to be the It, without being able to take away the pain your feeling, without being able to give you the warmest hug, without being able to make you smile, without being able to tell you how much I love you one last time.

You hid too well, to the point that I will never be able to seek you.

Literary: Writer’s Block




I am an admirer of your stories,
I hope you knew
Every line I fancied,
Albeit they weren’t for me

Writing was your passion;
An artist to many a masterpiece
But why, all of a sudden,
Did your words fall apart?

The art once fulgent
Has now lost its luster
I know your craft too well
To realize its lack of heart

Nevertheless, I waited
For the next chapters, verses
Still, I loved your poesy
Even with the dry feelings it possessed

Deeper you fell into frustration,
And I, thinking of a solution
Scribed about you
With all the feeling inside of me

Everything, I poured—
Not a drop of emotion I wasted—
From all my admiration
To your literature I held dear

Not knowing the aftermath,
In hopes I grasped
To bring back the heart
Of the writer I always knew and loved

You’ve always liked my stories --
Those you could read
Over and over
As if each time were the first

You knew I loved to write
And quite often, I did
Until I found myself
At a constant loss for words

My words came out flat,
As I was filled with the need
To force creativity
When there was none to bring out

Yet not once did you pry
Or rush me to write
Pieces of literature
Which did not come from my heart

On the brink of my frustration,
You wrote me a piece
And you did, with such ease,
Almost enviable in my eyes

But your words touched me,
Enough to make me read them
Over and over,
Bringing about familiar feelings

Like a storm
The ideas came flooding in
And once again
I am inspired to write

Literary: Pride and Love






When he was born,
he breathed air
that had a stench
of ire and animosity;
He opened his eyes
to a world limited
to the two sides of a coin.

When he was 3,
his mind was set
to liking cars,
to becoming a soldier,
to loving the opposite sex;
he was limited.

When he was 10,
his heart wanted not
what he was told.
Though it was disobedience
he carried on,
followed what he desired.

When he was 13,
he regretted his decision
of going against currents
for he only drowned
in fleer and mockery
from a naive society.

When he was 16,
the waves worsened.
This time he was still,
stood for what he loved,
held tears inside
for they weren't for men.

When he was 18,
he was stronger.
He tried to believe
hoped in humanity;
he continued living
with his head held high.

When he was 21,
out he came from the closet,
beating the ignorance
of this cruel world,
waving the rainbow flag
of pride and love.

Literary: Siya Pa Rin




Ika-labing-apat ng Pebrero. Malamig ang simoy ng hangin, tahimik na ang paligid. Tanging liwanag ng buwan at mga bituin ang nagdadala sa ‘kin patungo sa isang bangkong kahoy sa ilalim ng puno ng mangga. Mabilis ang aking paglalakad, unti-unti’y namalayan ko na lamang na tumatakbo na pala ako. Sumasabay ang bilis ang pagkabog ng aking dibdib sa bilis ng paghakbang ng aking mga paa. Dahil sa pagod o dahil sa kasabikan na makita ka? Papalapit na ako sa pupuntahan. Natanaw kita. Naghihintay. Nakaupo, nag-iisa. Lumapit ako sa’yo hinihingal lang ba ako? O, ang pagkabog ng dibdib ko’y isang masamang palatandaan. Nang makaharap na kita, tila nag-iba ang pakiramdam ng paligid.

Kung para sa iba ay may malalim na ibig-sabihin ang araw na ito, ibahin mo ako. Hindi naman mahalaga para sa akin ang araw na ito; isang araw lamang itong ordinaryong araw. At, kung hindi dahil sa tawag mo, hindi ako babangon mula sa buong araw na pagkakahiga sa kama ko.

Humahangos, hinahabol ang paghinga. Bigla kang tumingin sa akin nang may luha sa iyong mga mata. Sinalubong mo ako ng mahigpit na yakap; ang nauna nang bilis ng pintig ng puso ay nadagdagan pa. Naamoy ko ang pabangong lagi mong ginagamit, ngunit kahalo nito ang amoy ng serbesa mula sa paghinga mo. Umiiyak ka; nagsasabi ng mga salitang ‘di ko mawari kung ano ba, o hindi naman kaya’y hindi ko na lang ininda. Bumagal ang ikot ng mundo. Hindi ko malaman ang dapat kong maramdaman. Matutuwa ba ako dahil sa pagkakadantay ng iyong magandang mukha sa aking bisig, o malulungkot at makikisimpatya sa iyong pinagdaraanan? Subalit hindi naman ito tungkol sa iniisip o nararamdaman ko. Tungkol ito sa nararamdaman mo, sa pinagdaraanan mo, sa pagluha mo, sa iyo; lagi naman itong tungkol sa iyo.

“Iyakin ka talaga ‘no?” bungad ko, habang hindi ka pa rin bumibitaw mula sa iyong pagkapit sa akin.

“Mahal mo naman ako kahit na ganito ako, hindi ba?” Tila lumamig pa lalo ang paligid at nanigas ang aking buong katawan sa iyong tugon.

Bumitaw ako, “hindi naman ako tatakbo dito kung hindi, ‘di ba?” Gumaan ang pakiramdam sa aking dibdib nang marinig kang tumawa ng kahit kaunti. Kahit pilit lang.

“Anong chapter na ba tayo diyan sa kwento mo?”
“Hindi naman umuusad ‘yung kuwento,” unti-unti na akong nakaramdam ng kurot sa aking puso, “siya pa rin naman, wala nang iba.”
“Akala ko ba ayaw mo na sa kanya?”
“Akala ko rin eh.” Akala ko ayaw ko na.
“Naninigurado lang naman.”
“Wag mo nang ipamukhang tanga ako.”
“Mahal mo pa rin?”
“Iiyakan ko ba siya kung hindi na?”
“Ako, mahal pa rin kita.”

Lumalalim na ang gabi, lumalalim ang usapan, lumalalim ang kirot sa puso na ako rin naman ang siyang nagtanim dahil sa damdamin kong di mo naman kayang tumbasan. Hindi nagtagal, nakatulog ka sa balikat ko. Tumingin ako sa buwan na lalo pang nagliwanag, kabaliktaran ng aking pag-asa na lalong nagdilim. Lumiwanag ang paligid kasabay ng panlalabo ng aking isipan at nararamdaman.
Pinasan kita sa aking likod at doon na nagsimulang maglakad pauwi. Sa aking paglalakad, narinig ko ang malambot mong tinig sa aking tainga:

“Bakit ba siya pa rin?”
“Bakit nga ba ikaw pa rin?” paulit-ulit kong tintanong sa aking isip. Pilit na hinahanapan ng kasagutan. Pero, wala, bumabalik pa rin ako sa simula. Walang maisip na dahilan bakit hindi kita dapat mahalin.

Ika-labing-apat ng Pebrero. Wala namang espesyal sa araw na ito, maliban na lang sa’yo. Kung maari lang sana na para sa iyo ay ganoon din ako.

Literary: 070215






“This isn’t working out anymore.”

No need for pointing fingers
For I am guilty, I am to blame,
In a snap, I disturbed the flow
Of the love that we both dearly hold
Falling in love became falling apart;
Joyous moments are now painful pasts

Why am I still searching
For a love that was long gone?
Has conceit led me too far astray
From the reality in which we belong?
Maybe I should save us both the pain
And yield to our tragic fate.

“Our timing was off.”

Such a funny and stupid excuse
From I who told you:
“I’ll stay and wait for the right time.”
A gentleman, I claimed to be
Yet I am nothing, but a coward and a fraud
What are promises then to this man of hypocrisy?

A man of your word, you claimed to be,
Ardent in your promise to stay
Until you deemed our love misplaced—
Lost in time and space
And I, a fool left waiting
For the timing we will never get right

“You deserve someone better.”

A woman of decency you are;
A woman, not worthy of torment
And I, a liar and an idiot,
Deserve no love from you
If it is only pain I bring, I must let you go
And hope you find a man who’ll love you more than I do

Do not be quick to assume I will heed
Just another spurious excuse
You should now know, more than anything else
That I regarded you no less than the best
So who are you to decide
What is worthy of my love?
“…”

Up to the last moment, we uttered none
Perhaps no words can express or deny
That we had a love that could only be ours
But now, towards separate ways we go
In search of happiness to fill this void,
The space which I can no longer fill.

“I hope you find the love you deserve.”

Literary: A Cup of Coffee






It is quite a feat to sip a hot cup of coffee alone, when we used to do it together. You loved it sweet and foamy and hated what you tasted of my macchiato. You giggled when I burnt my tongue and I got back at you by wiping the cream off your lips. Then we’d sit beside each other. You’d lean your head against my shoulder, put your hand in mine, and we’d talk about absolutely anything.

It was a rainy afternoon then, same as what the forecast said for today. The cold wind in the coffee shop enveloped me, as I tried to fight it with the heat of a cup of coffee; heat which used to be from your limitless affection, your endless love.

It was a year from this day, if I’m not mistaken, that we drank our last cup together. It was different from those scalding ones we had before. This time, it was iced; cold as how our hearts parted from each other. It was a hot summer night, when I chose to wipe the tears off your face rather than just the sweat from the immense heat. My throat was parched, dry as the drought that I suddenly felt in my heart. My tongue got tired of the taste of macchiato, the same time I got tired of our love for each other.

Maybe the bitterness in the change of blend to a ristretto also changed the way I felt about you. I got my tongue burnt for the last time. I messed up the words I was supposed to tell you, and instead of giving you the usual laugh, all I brought were tears. Nothing happened after that. The coffee that used to be hot and sweet is now cold and bitter.

Now I’m here, sitting alone in one corner of the same café, watching you from across the room as you drink your favorite cup of latte. Quite nostalgic, yet things are different from what they used to be a year ago. A bigger smile is painted on your face, as the guy you were with burnt his tongue and wiped the foam off your lips.

I still remember the last time I got mine burnt, too, then stumbled upon the words I wanted to tell you; I still have them with me though, on the same day, in the same café, but in a different scenario, hoping that I could still tell you what I really meant. If I told you these now, would you still remember the feeling of how we drank our cup of coffee back then?

I took several steps across the room to get to your space. With my palms all sweaty, I opened my mouth. I paused for a moment, “Hi, it's been a while,” with an awkward smile on my face. We had a little chat, yet it didn’t last long. “I’ll leave you two now. I’m really happy for you,” and walked to the counter where, before leaving, I took home a cup of macchiato. I just felt like it; I missed the way it tastes.

Up to the last moment, I didn’t get my words right. I guess it’s how it is supposed to be. But maybe it was the best decision to make. You two looked so happy, happier than we ever were. He loved you more than I did, and my dear, it is something you deserve.

It was still pouring outside and my eyes were wet, perhaps from the rain. My chest was cramping up, maybe from too much caffeine. I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and finally started walking away.

Literary: My Universe





In your entire galaxy,
I am nothing but a speck of dust.
In your world of stars,
He holds the brightest light.

How would I shine
If you didn’t even know I was there?
How would I shine
If your eyes are already set upon him?

Maybe I’d just watch you amble away
Off to another dimension
Lightyears away from me.

If it is happiness you seek
In this voyage across the stars
To get to his space
Then, I’d be fine

You are my universe
But he is yours
And I can’t do anything about it anymore.

Literary: Please, Promise Me




Promise me you’ll read from start to end, because these words may be my last for you.

Promise me you’lltake the path to wherever your heart leads you. Follow what your heart desires, what you love. Be with the person you chose even when there are others vying for your hand.

Promise me you’ll be happy. Don’t let your smile fall to a frown. Make sure that your heart is full and filled with glee in choosing the man you wanted to be with.

Promise me you’ll stay the same. My leaving wouldn’t really leave a mark so I hope you’ll never change. Keep being the person who brought the color back to my life, the person I loved unrequitedly.

Promise me you’llforget. Incinerate every memory of me down to a pile of ashes. Throw away the words and let it burn down. They were true, you never knew, but I guess there’s nothing I can do.

Promise me you’ll never think about me. I will not interfere with your happiness. If the tides turn upon us, don’t mind. Act like I don’t matter because I know I never really did.

Promise me you’ll help me let go. Give me a reason to give up on you. I love you, but I guess it’s too late to say, especially now that someone makes your heart beat differently from its former way.

And I promise not to bother you anymore. It may be hard, but the pain, I have to ignore. Loving you was good while it lasted, even though it was just one-sided.

Literary: Around the World in One Night



Those cold nights
When my breath shakes
And my toes shiver;
When I’m wrapped
In soft blankets;
When memories of you
Brought me to places
I've never been to…

When I remember
The glimpse I caught
Of your angelic face
Your pale skin,
Your rosy cheeks and
The calm look in your eyes
It’s as if I am brought
To the City of Angels

When I remember
The moment I said 'hi'
And your reply was,
'Hello' together with a smile;
Your precious smile
That lit up
My dark and barren world
Brightly like La Ville Lumière

When I remember
The things we talked about
That made time fly fast
But slowed down the world
Those simple conversations
That woke me up every night
Like the City that Never Sleeps

Oh how I love
Those cold nights
When memories of you
Brought me to places
I've never been to--
Places I wish to visit
With you
Someday in the future.

Literary: Unchanging



Dear Joma,

Writing love letters isn’t really my thing. But for you I will. I will do just about anything, in order to paint a smile on your face—that smile that changed my life in a snap, lit up my world when it was dark and empty, and caught my heart years back. And besides, it’s Valentine’s Day, why not give it a shot?

It has been 3 years, 6 months and 12 days since the day I met you. To be honest, those aren’t really the exact days or months that we met, because for me, that doesn’t really matter at all. What matters most is this feeling. Believe me when I say that, darling, this feeling has not changed since day 1. This feeling still makes my heart skip a beat when our eyes meet. It still gives me butterflies when our hands intertwine. And, it has always made me feel that it is best being in your arms.

I don’t want to be all cheesy, though. All I want is to make you happy, to make you feel special on this day of hearts, and to make you realize that someone will always be here for you no matter what happens. I’m cutting this letter short now for every word, every line, and every character in this letter is nothing compared to what my heart speaks about. Well, just let me tell you this: Worry not if this letter is too short for you. I still have forever to tell you everything I want to say, right?

Time may pass, seasons may change, sweets will melt, and roses will wilt, but this you should remember my dear: whatever happens, my love for you will never fade. I love you, dear, to the moon or whatever planet and back, from now until the end of time.

Love,
Emanon

-----

Dear Emanon,

 You see, when I pored through your letter and recognized the hand that first wrote to me three Valentines back, I knew the familiar feeling right away. The thrill of gazing at your handwriting, knowing that it's your love that it contains, I just know it all too well. Three years have passed, but I still love you just the same.

 It's true, many things about us now have gone astray from our old ways. The coffee you once liked mugged and strong has been exchanged for a cupped and whipped treat. The handkerchief you once insisted on placing in your breast pocket has lately been finding its way to your trousers'. Almost every detail in you has changed. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if it's still the one I love I see when I look at you every day. But it's been years, and nobody is to blame.

 We both have grown, but I am grateful that it's not our love that we chose to amend. You still hold my hand on those dark, cold nights. I still get chills every time you look at me. And these little things are proof that the love we share has never faltered after three long years.

No matter how much you change, please do know that I will still love you over and over again. I love you, dear. I always have, and I always will.

 Love,
Joma

Literary: Clueless



I never realized, I never knew
That I turn your day to yellow from blue
You fell hard but I didn’t have a clue
Until you said that your feelings are true

You never realized, you never knew
That my heart fills with warmth when I’m with you
You turn gray into a different hue
Trust me when I say my heart beats for you

We never realized, we never knew
That this love could be so real and so true
With our hands held tight, there’s nothing to lose
Together we’ll stay and face all miscues

But now we realize and we both know
That we will not let our love fade and go
I’ll wait ‘til we won’t be afraid to show
The love that began just from one hello



I never realized, I never knew
That I’d fall for you out of the blue
You’re the one who helped me start anew
From all those heartaches and miscues

You never realized, you never knew
That, in my life, you changed the hue
Believe me when I say that my feelings are true
I hope that you also feel the way I do

We never realized, we never knew
That we could be the perfect two
Everything lit up from my point of view
From the day you said you loved me too

But now we realize and we both know
That this love we have will still grow
Hence, I won’t hesitate to say and show
That I love you and I will never let go

Literary: Director's Cut



Scene 1 Take 1
Rolling… lights… camera… action!
Words that make everything go in motion
Curtains rise while faces glow
It’s time to begin the show

Scene 2 Take 14
The show has just begun
We’re already having fun
I see you through the luster of the spotlight
Like a star shining brightly in the darkness of the night

Scene 4 Take 5
I came to you, and without a doubt I said
“I like you and I can’t get you off my head.”
It was in the script, but it felt different
Like it was something that I really meant

Scene 10 Take 7
Every scene we did was special to me
Undeniably, it filled me with glee
In your eyes, I looked for any clue
If you’re feeling the same way I do

Scene 12 Take 12
Every act, every feeling became deeper
We started to learn how to love each other
Every event felt like it was heaven-sent
I was caught up in the moment

Scene 14 Take 14
I love you, too—these words came from you
Everything was too good to be true
Yet, it felt like something was lacking
What was it? I know nothing.

Scene 17 Take 7
Then I remembered, you were a really good actress
And you delivered those acts best
You made me think that they were real
Now everything is just like a broken reel

Scene 19 Take 2
Then I reread the script of the story
Slowly, for myself, I felt sorry
From then on came the fact
Yes, I forgot. That everything was just part of an act.

Literary: Objet d' Art



She used to be
A blank canvas,
A slab of marble,
Something unnoticed
By the people around her.

Nothing she was
To the eyes of many
For no one knows
What beauty
She has in store.

Seasons change
And so do people.
Towards the light
She stepped out
As someone
No one realized
She was.

She wasn’t merely
A blank canvas
Or a slab of marble:
She was better.
A work of art she was
And time
Was her artist.

Such elegance she held
As people looked at her.
Mesmerized,
Astonished by her beauty,
Far better than
The Mona Lisa
Of Da Vinci.

She was near perfection,
She brought more color
Than that of
Van Gogh's.
A masterpiece,
A chef-d'œuvre.

And even my heart
Was captivated
By the marvel she held.

Literary: Elements of Moving On




Earth
Even diamonds and gold
Stand dull next to you.
There is no wonder
You cannot overshadow.
Nothing in this land
Flares brighter than your glimmer.

Air
You brought me up
To the heavens above.
Among the stars,
A smile within your grasp.
Softly, you held onto it,
Reached out for me to wear it.

Fire
Heaven and earth swore witnesses
To this burning love I offered,
This flaming love that burned me
Down to a pile of ashes
When in a blaze you left,
Taking all the light in me away.

Water
Lands crumble, fires grow
Yet, to dwell on these is no good.
Emotions, like tears, may flow
And will definitely wash them off.
They may come and go
But just like a stream,
My life will go on.
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