I Was There

I was there when you let your ravaging storm in you washed by the pouring rain.

I was there when you forced a smile and hid all that pain.

I was there when you brought out your thunder.

I wanted to comfort the storm in you, but I chose not to.

How can I? When I am the sky, who also sheds these raindrops.

I can only wash your tears, my dearest, but I cannot calm your storm when I, myself, can’t even stop my rain from pouring.

Monsters in my head

Poetry is art for those who are inspired to weave out words from their heart.

But for the broken ones, these words are monsters in their head waiting to be released in the wilderness.

Now, tell me, who writes better?

Faded

Do you ever think of me
once in a while
or caught a flash of memories
of me when you see her smile?

Have you ever dreamt of me
once in a while
or think how we used to be
every time you close your tired eyes.

I wonder how many
forgotten memories of me
you tried to recall
or a glimpse of regret
the moment you decided
to close our door.

I’m always curious
how you recall us
in your memory every time
you hear a song
that reminds you of us.

I wonder how many
fairytale stories exist in your mind,
the what-ifs,
and all the words that
you left unsaid,
wondering what would it be
if you ever try to fight for us,
now that we don’t talk anymore.

I wonder how many times
did I pass through your memory lane
that’s slowly fading,
all the memories like flowers
slowly wilting.

When you wrap your arms
around her,
did I ever cross your mind
or unconsciously whispered
my name in one of your sighs?

Was it regrets? Was it relief?
I always wish you do.
Either way,
it means you’re thinking of me too.

But sometimes
I wish to forget you,
‘cuz I hate thinking about
the things that have been
long gone, long forgotten.

But here I am, I still do.

Bleeding Scars

I’ve been fighting battles for quite a while now.
Hiding my broken scars beneath my victorious smile.
It was a struggle to fight for something that’s not worth fighting for.
I stopped, but still, I bleed, just as my scars do when touched with love and kindness.
I live with my painful past that I become too afraid to heal with love.
I always aim to heal on my own but the more I tried, I bleed even more.
I choose to be distant with love and now, I don’t know how to reciprocate it with the same depth.
I’m afraid to hurt somebody else, that’s why I’m afraid to love again while I’m still hurting.

Unrequited

Ocean waves remind me of our laughter and our first night out together. The first date beside the shore of the boulevard that’s called to be the place of broken dreams.

While some hearts are breaking, we tried to mend ours hoping we could make memories and we could prove that this place isn’t always for broken dreams.
Hoping that every step we took would never end, that the smile we shared will help us mend.
It’s never easy to trust again but I tried to gain some strength to try the luck in love once more.

But you failed. It was always my love that stays. You failed the moment you choose to let go. You failed to prove that some hearts stay even if others don’t.

I was the only one holding, but not your heart this time. I kept holding on to our memories while I watched you lose your grasp of ours.

It’s never easy.

How can I say thank you enough?

These are the words I’ve been constructing in my mind,
to say thank you for all that you’ve done.
But words are somehow hard to find.
Before I could say it, they’re long gone.

Thank you will never be enough to say
to the one who gives the world to me,
the one whom I owe my life and makes me whole,
the one who forms my soul.

The one who tucked me in at night,
fought the tiredness with all her might.
The one who never dares to sleep,
to make sure I sleep sound and safe.

The one who taught me to chase the rainbow’s end,
who taught me that in life we need to know how to bend.
Who taught me to never give up with broken dreams,
just make it whole again.

The one who painted my world in colors,
for teaching me to be strong enough.
How could I possibly say thanks to you?
I find this question tough.

Is there any way to say thank you?
For the love you taught me so,
the kindness you have planted in me,
and all your loving ways.

For your heart that never ceases to love,
for giving me all that you ever have.
For all your sweat and all your tears,
and all you’ve done for me through the years.

For never giving up on me,
for loving me through eternity.
For accepting my flaws and the way I changed,
for being my ever truly best friend.

Maybe the only way to say thank you
is to make all your hopes and dreams for me to come true,
to take good care of the garden of love you’ve planted in me,
and pass it to my next legacy.

Thank you, Mama, for not giving up on me,
those times I needed you most.
Most of all, thank you for the gifts you give,
you give freely without a cost.

The True Color of Loneliness

Do you know the true color of loneliness?

It is when the sky bleeds crimson rays in the horizon while there you are standing on the edge somewhere in this boulevard of broken promises, waiting, and waiting for a love that had already left.

It is the color of the lovely golden sky in love when the sun has finally kissed the hills and valley a sweet goodbye.

It is in between the color of the golden sky in war with the chaotic twilight.

Loneliness isn’t gray.

It is the new color of hope, lurking somewhere in between the folds of our scarred hearts uttering a single yet sweet prayer for tomorrow to be a little different than today.

He doesn’t Know She Bleeds Poetry

He broke her.
He’d shattered her heart into pieces.
He drained her soul.
He made her forget herself.
He made her love him more.
Now, she’s bleeding.
And he’s more satisfied to know that she ain’t moving forward.
But, her every piece made her stronger day by day.
Every pain made her want to pick her pieces up again.
Yes, every piece of herself that she tries to pick up from time to time made her bleeds.
But he doesn’t know that she’s a strong woman.
He doesn’t know she bleeds poetry.

Diary of an Old Soul e-book version

Hello to all!
You can now read my book for free.
Download the Amazon Kindle app on your android phones and search the e-book version of “Diary of an Old Soul”.
You can also support my book by simply purchasing the e-book version for only Php149.5.
Also available in paperback.

I wrote your name in a book I cannot call poetry

Poetry is beauty.
Poetry is emotion.
Poetry is feelings.
An idea of someone that touches my soul to find beauty in it.
Someone who showed me that no matter how you feel about love, may it break you or hold you tight, it’s still beautiful.
But I didn’t find beauty in your eyes.
You looked at me with no feelings.
No emotion.
I didn’t even see a drop of tearful regrets.
It was distant and full of chaos.
But still, I wrote your name in my book.
It’s everything about you.
I wrote your name in a book I cannot call poetry.