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.