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But I think the problem with true love is,
it has to be on both sides.
That’s what makes it so difficult.





Octupus Garden by The Beatles | Abbey Road





You have always told me
there are no words
you have been able to find
that makes sense of what
is inside you.
But why should you ever
become weary with that,
my love?
For words are just tiny winds
with sounds of different
arrangements, and even if you
are able to find the
right ones,
by god if they ever come,
know this;
You have always made sense to
me.
Even when you are nothing
but shattered pieces.

- Christopher Poindexter | Crumble life poem 46





I used to be so good at this before.

Now,
one glance at me
and I feel
that
people can see through everything

All those eyes
they know
they see

that I’m broken.

- Shelves





Sometimes, I think I want to be an actress.

So that I can shut down my real self
even for a while
and be an entirely different person,
for a very legitimate reason.

I wouldn’t be thinking about reality,
instead I’ll be a character in a story.

All my actions will be rational, but based on the perception of another being.
All my words will be heard, but voiced out by a different name.
All my emotions will be real, but not mine.

And time will be controlled.
And all things will be fiction.
And everyone will make believe.

Until the director says “cut”

- She’s Gone





Whenever I feel like comforting you with words
or even more so, a hug;
because I think that you might need them,
In my mind, I go to this moment:

From a couple of steps behind you,
I called your name.
You looked at me as if I was a stranger.
Then, nothing.

After reliving this distinct feeling
that I couldn’t even explain.
It is absolutely reaffirmed
that you don’t need me in your life.

Possibly, you never will.
And no amount of words
or even the tightest of hugs
can ever change that.


- Words and Hugs





With distractions that happen
Refraction that matters is clear
Disappear in an empty room

Delphic's Red Lights | Acolyte





"Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe."

- excerpt from Bone Burying by Andrea Gibson





Maraming maaaring mangyari sa pagitan ng bawat hakbang.
Kasabay ng pagtapak ng mga paa sa kalsada,
Kasabay ng paghawi ng buhok na hinahangin kanina pa —
Laking gulat ko, dahil paparating ka.

Nakakapanibago.
Bigla kong naalala na dati, duwag akong hawakan ang iyong kamay.
Kahit nga sa isip lang, nakakatakot pa rin.
Dahil alam kong kahit anong mangyari, una kang bibitaw.

Kaya kamay na lamang ng orasan ang aking hinawakan.
At noon, sa bawat sandaling makasama tayo,
Kahit katahimikan lang ang nasa pagitan,
Pinilit kong pigilang umalis ang oras.

Isa pang hakbang, marahil ay napasin mo ako.
Isa na naman sa maraming bagay na walang kasiguraduhan:
Kagaya ng mga salita mo noon.
Katulad ng mga kilos mo ngayon.

Ngumiti ako, ngunit hindi huminto.
Tama nga yatang napapalambot ng panahon ang emosyon,
Halos walang nagbago.
Malamang, nasanay na ako.

Naramdaman kong ito na ang sandali.
At kasabay ng pagdaplis ng iyong manggas sa aking braso,
Kasabay ng pagtatagpo ng ating mga mata —
Bumitaw ako sa kamay ng oras.

Hinayaang maging malaya ang mga kamay,
Tuloy-tuloy na naglakad,
Dahil sa pagkakataong ito,
Hindi na ako lilingon.

- Isang Sandali sa A. Roces