Betrayal

Why

Eyes are swollen

Mouth is dry 

My beating heart has stopped for the last time.

 

Why You?

Why Me?

Why Us?

What did we do?

 

 

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The Birth and Flight of a Phoenix

The storm has settled after a long summer.

The skies are clear, but the damage has been done.

I am charred, left abandoned in the ashes.

The humiliation during the wildfire led to my death.

The world I knew and loved disowned me.

 

But a baby bird had risen out of the ashes.

Despite its weak body, the newborn helped me onto my feet.

It led me away to start anew in a foreign world.

After all that had happened that led to this fire,

I know now that my old name is nothing but a memory

Left to be scorned by bloodthirsty eels.

 

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

 

They can deceive the world all they like, but karma has its ways.

They will always be overshadowed by a much more unified flock.

But for now, I walk alone with no one but the baby bird perched on my shoulder.

I see a bit of my old life in it, but it possesses the need to change;

A quality that the world I left behind is too blind to see.

 

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

 

By the time the bloodthirsty eels see me again, it will already be too late.

Their lack of intelligence is what I have to thank for getting me to where

I am needed most the whole time I have slaved away.

Too bad that they'll never know that I am not the poor unfortunate soul that I used to be.

 

The winter has arrived and the joys of Christmas Day have given the baby bird strength

To regain the fire that I have long-admired since I was no less than eight years of age.

The new year is around the corner and it is more than ready to spread its wings and fly

Like it did four years ago. It amazes me to see how kids grow up so fast.

 

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

 

It is no longer our battle anyway for our destiny lies far away from this mom-and-pop.

Loneliness

Loneliness is being in the room with your love,

And realizing that there is no love in the room.

 

Loneliness is having a nightmare in bed,

And rolling over to realize that the dream was warmer than real life.

 

When I needed you

You weren't there

When I had to trust you

You broke my trust

When I held you up

You knocked me down

When I gave you everything

You took it all away

 

Loneliness is wanting to be understood,

But realizing that no-one else

Has the time or patience to discover

Who you really are

You

You were the sin after my heart,

I was the rescue to your soul. 

Mend the kinks I've repressed

and bring truth from past haunts. 

When does it end? 

The suffering that tries to besiege me.

Or is it but a shadow hovering my existence;

meshing plagues. 

Show yourself to spill secrets in whispers,

as the echoes will chime distant cries.

Should you mold me out of clay, 

it should become your cursed delusion.

Now let your naked eyes mend fragility,

from the pieces of blind thoughts. 

Should I walk you home again,

let it be a desolate map scratched with black and white. 

 

 

T.R.O.Y. (The Ruins Of You)

Folder: 
Confessions

I stand in the ruins of you
carrying the casket
of the memories of us
Once, 
a cradle of holy affection and love.
Here lie the shattered 8 months
of unison prayers, 
jeepney banters,
subtle, orgasmic whispers,
the euphoria of meeting your mother,
and the dreams we built 
on midnight kisses and sacred moans.

The pen you gave me
still holds
its allegiance to you
refusing to spill its ink
thriving on its own will
I grapple it by its neck
and watch it slowly faint.

Lonely hearts from the start,
we relished the thought of a lasting love.
Two candles burn
when two lovers pray.
On our very first date,
I cursed on how you made me wait.
On our very last day,
I prayed that He would make you stay.
People say first impressions last
But you had me only at second glance.

Sober fools in a clandestine night
we laughed and walked for hours and miles
You, holding my bag
Me, holding your hand.
This was before his ghost haunted you
again
alive and well.
This was before in between hours,
you’d forget my whispers
and long for his.
This was before your friend 
called me to say,
“Just let him go. Love is not supposed
to work this way.”

The dark clouds came
and never left.

I stand in the ruins of you,
claws clutching to the ground,
eyes beaten and tired,
feet still shackled 
with the ropes you gave me last June
and every inch of them is an untold story
and each story is a blow to my head.
Love is but a slowly unfolding agony.
Knot
after
knot,
I untangle these shackles I tied myself to.
Knot
after
knot,
I begin to remember 
the life I built around you and me,
the dreamy kisses,
the day I met your friends and family,
the night I got so drunk
you had to forget our fight
to come and get me,
the night you got so drunk
you had to forget our fight
to say you still love me.
But the high wasn’t worth the agony
of knowing that at my lowest point,
confined in a hospital,
covered with punctures,
you successfully abandoned me;
of carrying a bleeding heart every day
and hoping it won't leak;
of feeling the sands of time slip
away from your grasp,
along with all your hope and chance;
of finally choosing to live through hell
hoping that your lover would remember
the warmth of an earthly heaven
you built for yourselves and once lived in.
of knowing that the memory of us
would later turn to dust
and I am to collect them
with bare hands.
Knot
after
knot,
The walls of this temple begin to shatter
I am no longer your prisoner.
I stand in the ruins of you,
claws clutching
on crumpled bed sheets,
rubbles of your promises,
residues of your gifts,
pictures torn to pieces, 
my handwritten notes
a hundred poems, 
a thousand letters
and the ashes of our bodies.
I spread my wings 
and begin to rise
and look up for the clouds
The dark clouds that came
never left.
But I am.
•••

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about moving on.

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Rebirth

Folder: 
Confessions

“Who is he?”

I whisper to myself

as your eyes gaze off to the distance

and treat me with the unbearable silence

I’m a little too late, I guess,

I hear your eyes scream, they confess

It is him who holds your heart

The one you’d rather hold your hand

Under the city lights

In a cold November night

 

But my love for you is greater than his.

 

So do the honor and list down the things

you so liked about him

Watch me burn myself with a pile of leaves

and reborn as him

Just let me be your light, your candle tonight

I can be him, your lover, if you like

I’ll cut my wrist, drain the blood my ancestors

passed on to me

Replace it with the words he whispers

when I’m not around

Let his words flow down my veins so you may speak

and tell me all the things you never say to me

Slit my throat with the screen of the phone you use

To capture his face, his smile, the perfection, your muse

Because you never even once

took a picture of me

— or maybe my image is just

too hideous for you to keep?

What strength of lens does he use, you say?

I can smash mine down if it’s not the same

Use the shards to peel off my skin I so badly hate

Blessed is he to have the kind that keeps you sane

I’ll unclench my claws I’ve spent years to build

Pull them out and mold me his hands and feet

Let the blood spritz all over the room

Let them spell: HERE LIES A HOLY FOOL,

WHO SURRENDERED HIMSELF FOR LOVE —

BECAUSE HIS LOVE WAS NEVER ENOUGH.

Tell my mother I died a sweetest death

And I’ll be waiting in line in the Day of Resurrect

Pour out the gasoline all over my corpse for the final touch

Say a short Ignatian prayer before you strike the match

Watch my skin; watch my veins turn to ash, turn to dust,

as I’m enveloped and swallowed by flames

‘Cause I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of asking,

“Who is Carl, baby? I’m James.”

 

From now on, call me Carl.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about wanting and loving someone so much you are willing to turn yourself into someone else.

I've. Already. Died.

 

Were my life to just cease,

Would it even be a great loss?

Or would their grief, for me,

Be so hard to come across?

 

Would any weeping ensue,

With a heart that's so aching?

From their guilt of the years,

Convinced I, was only faking?

 

And would they even feel sorry,

For tossing me carelessly away?

For breaking my aching heart?

For causing me, such dismay?

 

Will they realize how I've hurt,

Because of their frequent inactions?

For blaming me for it all?

And for contrived-false infractions?

 

I feel buried-cold and forgotten,

Despite how hard I have tried.

Because nowadays, it's like,

..........I've. Already. Died.

 

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Remember?

Hey daddy? Don't you remember me? No, because you're ice cold. You have no heart. You have no soul. It's criminal. Sticks and stones and broken bones. You're evil and all you do is drag me down. It doesn't matter what you say to me anymore. You always knew that you were the one that I adored. People say that it's hard to believe, but hey daddy? Don't you remember me? 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My dad left when I was 11 and he was never there so this is what I wish he could see 

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Betrayal

Folder: 
Gavin

Hope fall as i fell asleep, 
Eyes blinks yet blank unto my eyes,
Memories fades with streams of my own blood, 
Surrounding my veins with Strokes,
Yet deprived my heart with your innocence,
Though reads unknown but attacked,
Attached through your evil deeds,
Yet reads unknown with my breath.

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