the encounter

the starless blue sky tried to shut me out,

towering over me with its almighty glow,

making me feel small—cutting cold through the skin.

“oh, this stings,” i hissed with quiet irony.

it’s such an eerie feeling, to drown in crowds with no walls to hold onto.

but like a foreigner adrift in winding streets,

hearing one voice could seep you into the delusion of familiarity.

stranger-danger lost all its meaning

if it meant no more loneliness.

your existence brought back the feeling

of the sun kissing one’s palm during summer—ember-like, almost lulling the soul to linger just a bit longer.

as if hooked to the bottom of the ocean,

my legs remained unmoved.

perhaps i was destined to cross paths with you,

risking the safety alarm, unlocking the door—

for it was the only way to welcome the unknown.

we should've never met in July

you know what they say about a summer fling?

the kind of love that makes you cling,

like a child, letting her hair down on the swing,

getting all dizzy, upside-down hanging,

feeling the rush of adrenaline pumping,

so perilous that one look away—she falls, and it stings.

where is my angel?

you're supposed to look after me, but instead, you travel,

far away, soaring up the sky like an eagle.

you know what? you're nothing, but a drivel.

it’d be better if you just mangled

the guts out of me, beastly and cruel.

at least I’d die instantly

instead of searching desperately,

wishing for the possibility

that you were just hiding quietly

behind the big old oak, jokingly,

then surprising me, calling me "silly!"

I should’ve known your presence would be gone

as fast as the adrenaline dries down,

like the summer sun swallowed by the ground.

i'm running out of time, but you are long gone

what's the line between love and hate?

what i thought as a kid was clear,

made me sit stiffed

with two packs of cigarette boxes

and a half-empty booze bottle

when mom landed her palm on my cheeks

it stung, i knew it was love because

she told me it was for my sake

and i would thank her later

when dad neglected me like i was

dust in thin air, i knew it was love because

to be recognized is to please

so i grew up dancing on strings

when you discarded me and refused to

come back, i was lost

i let you land yours on mine

and i stayed put like i always did

where did i do wrong?

i did them out of love,

just like how my parents taught me

instead, you glanced at me with disgust

"love yourself first and foremost."

maybe, our definition of love was different

and maybe, i need a century to figure it out

you saw stars in my eyes, i tasted peaches on your cheeks

the night air blew in my direction  

i shuddered in my oversized jacket  

the band was playing 32 feet away  

i swore they played so well, but i  

i somehow couldn't recall the song or the melody  

all i knew was that they did a great job complementing you  

ah, you...  

i'm not trying to be mean, but you  

you talked too much that night  

then you'd stop mid-sentence, saying,  

"i saw stars in your eyes,"  

over and over again like a broken record  

and it changed my perspective that  

not every broken thing is bad  

if i could turn back time i  

i would loop that broken record to be even more broken than it already was  

picturing your drenched bangs,  

covering half of your small eyes  

with quivering lips,  

peaches on your cheeks,  

nervousness plastered across your face,  

as you reached for my hands,  

sending electricity to my constellations,  

resurrecting this white dwarf  

you shook your head, how funny  

did you know that you could never get rid of me?  

i am permanently carved into your trunk,  

injected into your roots,  

and i'd bust in those peachy cheeks of yours,  

smearing your pretty face with my essence  

fuck, it's getting colder  

maybe you should go home, so i  

i could wash my mouth  

see you tomorrow

how long does it take for someone to be freed from grief?

has there been a research,

on the average time grieving takes?

because it's been a year,

and I still find my breath

hitched whenever I pass

someone who smells just like you

because it's been a year,

and I still find myself

frozen whenever our songs

accidentally play on shuffle

because it's been a year,

and I still find my fingers

trailing the stuff you left

behind in our apartment

because it's been a year,

and I still find myself

feeling elated visiting

the tiny lake where

we had our first date

because it's been a year,

and I still find my chest

hurts whenever I see

your name pop up on my screen

because it's been a year,

and I still find myself

jolted from a nightmare

about you leaving for good

because it's been a year,

and I still find myself

sobbing on the bathroom floor

realizing it's been a year

and I'm still hung up on you

and you aren't coming back

so tell me again,

has there been a research,

on the average time grieving takes?

stay gone, I beg you

I'm not a leaver — I wasn't a leaver. I was a blind man, faithfully following a stranger whom I thought was going to help. Even after he told me to stay still while he was out to get me a white cane. 10 minutes, 2 hours, 7 days, 8 weeks, I was starting to lose count.

6 months later you approached me, I could see your shadow behind the sunglasses. You asked me how I've been and started to explain how you've been looking for me all these months. How could I tell you that I've been here the whole time, remained unmoved? So I just smiled and you continued blabbering about how happy you were to meet me again.

"About the white cane, did you remember?" I asked.

You were a bit offended by my question. "Of course, how could I — the one who made the promise — forget?"

But even then, every second that we spent, you never once mentioned the white cane. Maybe I was too greedy to ask for something I was promised, but what can I say? I'm merely a lost and hopeless blind man with nowhere to go, living bench to bench, just trying to survive.

Yet, you lied. You lied to a desperate blind man with no remorse, and to make it worse — you told me you weren't going to visit again.

So before that happened, I left. Not that I wanted to, but it was something you hoped for. I spared you weightless guilt and it turned me into a leaver.

I stopped sleeping at the benches around your radar. Even though I was homeless, I made sure my home was shut, my windows were sealed, and my door was locked. Even though you weren't looking for me, I made sure to stay hidden. I was pushed to leave, so I made sure to stay gone.

And I hope you would too.

within the sanctuary of your soul, I found religion

my identity has been stripped
a blasphemer is my calling card
I let it flow through the labyrinth of mind
welcoming with an open heart

I found myself basking in the afternoon ocean
dancing my fingers through the surface
caressing the warmth of saltiness
drifting in complacency

your name brushed past my lips
plastering a conspicuous grin
"you, you, you," I chanted as I
drenched in brine, sweat, and tears

it wasn't me, it's you

your friends whispered that it was me,
given how disarrayed my psyche was
your ex declared that it was me,
as if I dwelled in a separate universe or so it was
you convinced yourself that it was me,
weighed down by how burdensome I was

but not a soul has ever pointed out
as I grappled with my demons, you were mum
as I deliberated, yet you shunned
as I recuperated, you refrained

despite that,
I surrendered the amusement to you
because as I'm composing this,
you are submerged in the depths of epiphany
that not once was it me,
but endlessly been you

butterfly bruise

a set of velvety curves

tapping its feet on a glistening slope

slowly dancing its chiseled path

leaving traces of midnight heat

amidst the hush of frost's embrace

the delicacy of hums

sounding like cantillation

of angel's descendants

enticing their long lost believers

digging claws into the loamy terrain

a droplet escapes the somber nimbus

leaving an enigmatic plague

in the recesses of one's skull

here I unveil the innermost echoes

"it was a bewitching agony"

you were mistaken about me

"forever and always,"
I murmured to you soothingly
yet we both know,
none of us are sensible to the certainty of time

what's the length of forever?
til I'm buried 6 feet underground while you mourn above me with delusive tears?
til you're slipping out of my sooty hand, sinking down and dissolving in the ocean?
til a war declared, we're choking on bullets and shattered to pieces by missiles?
til all of milky way is out of the orbit and crashing themselves, obliterating humankind?

or maybe, the length of forever is just a thoughtless period of time that you threw around while I begged you not to fall out of love yet?
maybe, forever was never that deep
and maybe, after all this time,
I was never truly, madly, deeply benevolent 

insane love

I don't want normal love

I want that 4-am-nightmares-about-you-leaving-me-in-11-different-scenarios where you have to reassure me a dream is a dream

I don't want normal love

I want that i-wanna-go-home-and-leave-me-the-fuck-alone where you wait outside the bathroom door worrying how much blood I shed 

I don't want normal love

I want that just-one-more-please where you have to put down the glass and deal with my fucked up suicidal drunken state

I don't want normal love

I want that have-you-taken-your-meds where you get disappointed because I keep skipping them on purpose, but you forgive me anyway

I don't want normal love

I want that im-sleeping-with-a-knife-by-my-side when you aren't there to help me sleep at night and it worries you to death to the point you can't even blink for a second

I don't want normal love

I want that im-going-to-kill-myself-if-you-leave-me where you hold out of horror because you're terrified to lose me forever

I don't want normal love

I want a heart wrenching love

that suck the living out of your blue soul,

ripping your beating pulse and flesh,

devouring every inch of your numb body,

chugging every drop of your warm blood

I don't want normal love

nostalgic morning

the sharp pain always stings my chest at 4 am

when the city is still asleep, including you

it's just me, my trauma, and the creeping coldness from head to toe while i'm drenched in sweat

I need to hold onto an inhaler so that I won't suffocate

I need to hold onto a life jacket so that I won't sink

so I hold onto you as you breathe in composed rhythms

the moment your eyes meet my well-being,

you don't hesitate to put me in an embrace,

wrapping my heavily trembling body inside your warm hugs

you put a cigarette between my cracked lips,

then you light it up and whisper soothingly,

"breathe in, breathe out," as your eyes guide me on how to breathe

you inhale the let-out smoke I made,

inhaling deeply as if it's the last oxygen left

"I breathe your pain; now it becomes ours."

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when we moved in and there were troubles, i could've been the handyman and fixed the inconveniences so you could rest easy.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when the troubles happened again and irritated you, you could've saved your breath and let it out on me instead of someone else.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when i realized there was a defect in me, i could've polished it so you wouldn't have to bear the ugliness of me.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when there was a crack in your heart, i could've patched it up so there was no longer a doubt in it.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when you said you grew tired of the repeating situations like a broken CD, i could've fixed it—heck, i could've replaced it with something new for the sake of you.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was wrap my arms around your shoulders, hoping it would deflate the tension.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was whisper millions of sorrys, hoping you'd give me a second chance.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was beg on my knees, hoping you'd come back to me.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was write dozens of poetry, hoping you'd see through my heart, mind, and soul.

but i'm a mere poet and you're just an illiterate.

love never goes out of season

I wasn't someone who acknowledged the art of praying

but it was July 7th and I relied on God's favor

you made it come true and ever since then I'm no longer godless

you started by plucking the wilding

ended up scratching your tender hands

but you said "everything's fine," as you wrapped a bandage

then you continued watering down my grave

you had to walk miles to find a glimpse of waterfall

stepping on sharp pebbles, leaving sticky red liquid all the way to the grave

"you're beautiful yet untended, it's such a shame"

you said as you spread different kind of flowers

I swore I could smell them six feet buried underground

it was summer

the rain wouldn't come any time soon

so you replaced the sky's duty to water me down everyday

once again you saved me

when it was supposed to be

a divine being or the universe's onus

"you're now my summer project,"

"but I don't want this to end soon,"

"love never goes out of season."

right side of the bed

friday night august eleventh

never thought this would be the day where i

got to find my will to live again and look forward to brighter suns

a key in our hands

as we looked at each other for the nth time

never thought inserting into a keyhole would excite so much

the moment the door was closed

i remember it vividly how our lips crashed

bodies pushing against each other passionately

under the dimmed kitchen lights

we declared our love

with a clink of peach soju glasses that i liked

it wasn't perfect

you wanted to move out right away

out of embarrassment of disappointing me

what more could a broken soul desire

when all they wanted was served before the eyes?

when all they wanted was a love so pure from the love of their life?

we sat down comfortably

letting the bed suck our bottoms in

glueing us not to move an inch, freezing the moment 

i picked the left side of the bed

and you were left with no choice

but to stay on the right side of the bed

the right side of the bed

where the sun shone right through the wooden blinds to say hello every morning

where the moon and the stars shone right at you, taking turns as the sun bid adieu

the right side of the bed

so i had a reason to turn right every chance i got

so i had a reason to make everything right when things went strayed

the right side of the bed

where i captured you beautifully every second our lives went by

and so that i didn't have to turn left facing the mirror's cruel truth, avoiding the monster shown in me

but you saw it

right behind me

whenever you turned to your left side

perhaps

that's one of the reasons why you left

as you grew tired of seeing the ugliness of me

perhaps

that's one of the reasons why you left

as you grew terrified of seeing the monster, getting more sinister each day

perhaps

perhaps

perhaps

little by little

you stopped turning to

the left side of the bed

little by little the glue dried

and it was easy to detach

so you started setting yourself free from me

little by little

you tossed our slokis to the trash can

as you tossed your things away, too

leaving me shackled

on the queen sized bed

forever reminiscing your right side of the bed

a despicable thorny rose in the field of dandelions

despicable you,

standing tall still after a direful hurricane,

glistening after a heavy rain attacking the dirt,

blushing lovely even in the midst of a blizzard,

while the rest was ruined, fell out, and became nonexistent

despicable you,

despite of that,

the dandelions will bloom back and beam you again

a love letter from a homeless man

dear the man who I look up to,

why is it that every time you walk past me

you take your time to stop and come back?

do you know that it gives me hope?

to keep sitting in the same place

under the shade of a perforated bus stop

the rain keeps me wet and cold 

while the sun stings and burns my skin

nevertheless, I'm never moving forward

dear the man whom I long for,

why is it that every time you're with a company

you never take your time to glance at me

is it because of my appearance?

is it because of my rotten odor?

is it because you saw right through me the last time our eyes spoke?

had I known, 

only if you told me with spoken words

that I'd understand the meaning behind your gaze

dear the man who changes his routes, 

is it wrong for a filthy homeless man like me

to be in love silently with you?

lolita

shiny things surrounding me,

but it didn't bother me 

love some pink for me

and make the drink sweet for me 

patting me,

tickling me 

giggles were let out by me,

some "ah" escaped the lips of me 

"you're a brat," you talked down on me

"I like you," you added to me 

slowly, you took off the top of me

your teeth landed at the ear of me 

"you're like a little kid," you teased me

"it's not an insult," you loved that for me 

I loved that for me

was it wrong of me?

if my heart were a house

my house was filled with spiderweb, 

no owner, not even a guest

then you rang the doorbell, once, twice, thrice

you broke in, letting your feet wandered around

there was something that caught your eyes,

a cracked holed wall

"I like this place," you said despite the dust flying around filled your lungs til it's hard to breath

"I like this place," you said regardless the broken wall being an eyesore to your sight

you called an ambulance, 

"please fix this wall"

diamonds, syringes, alcohol, pills, cements 

mixed, stirred, patched, repeat

a day, a week, a month, sleepless nights

mixed, stirred, patched, repeat

"you'll be fixed," you said with a loving tone,

caressing the wall as it started to hardened 

birds chirping by the windows accompanying you every morning and night, singing a love song

a love song about a man who loved an eerie abandoned house in the middle of nowhere

"it'll be just like magic," you reassured the wall before you went to sleep like a routine

you loved the wall more than ever,

or so you thought

what you didn't consider was, old building would always be fragile

one blow and it's back to crack 

two blows and it collapsed

"what the fuck is wrong with this place?"

you were full of rage as you stomped your feet out of the house

leaving the once abandoned, taken cared house back to its place

filled with spiderweb, dust, cracked, holed, abandoned

hope is an illusion

 i used to drag both my feet

i was limping and hurting

still dragging my feet, hoping to find a pair of shoes

it was dimmed

i saw shiny things from afar

shoes

i wore them and walked

slowly

since my feet were hurting

i should slow down, shouldnt i?

i saw birds flying, theyre fast

oh, how i wish i could do the same

i could, couldnt i?

then i started running 

we were on the same pace

the difference was that i was running on the ground and they were flying in the air

it didnt matter

we both had our ways

but then i tripped and fell

into a hole

deep dark hole

the birds were gone

the sight of forest and sky were gone

i was left alone with a dot of light

had i forgot, 

that no matter how hard i tried to catch up

i could never

i can never

hope is nothing but an illusion

and i fell for it