‘How are you?!’ for the eightieth time

Or should I be more creative this time, perhaps,

draw the constellation of your face

across the night sky outside my window;

your smile a little too big and bent to the left,

Indeed I’ve been juggling the right phrases all evening,

unearthing all the words that would stab you on the chest until you bleed awareness and conscience.

But before that let me lift you up by the ribs,

and put you into the attic of our golden days together,

those afternoons we ended up on the hood of an old, rusty car

where we debated conspiracy theories

about the end of the world.

No wonder you easily forgot me as you had your shoulders constantly

in parallel with the horizon,

your eyes eager for the turn of the twenty-first century

as I sat there taking my time in studying your face.

But you forgetting me is not the root of my agony

for I just wonder about my letters, those reservoirs of

memories we harbored together

losing their way within the vacuum of your silence;

those that take the shape of origami boats--some floating aimlessly at the middle of a calm ocean,

some consumed steadily by quicksand in a desert,

yet all the same,

each slowly slipping away as I speak

and as you keep on chasing after the illusions of Future.

Still, as I stand here wondering if you will ever reply to my letters

or find me in the chaos in your head,

I’m never short of desperation,

as you can see from the torn oregano which I had placed in between the folds of this last letter—

its familiar scent sparking your curiosity

like a tragic cliffhanger to a story about me, and you, forgetting.

#friendship #forgetting #forget #love #friends #remember #relationship

I remember the first night you held my hand—

our bodies, still wet from a swim,

lied down side by side on a beached boat:

two separate parallel lines

steadily sailing across time and space.

Yet you, my love, bridged your world to me:

your moon-bathed fingers slid through

the spaces of my hand,

and like a conqueror to a foreign isle,

it was your warmth that gathered all things

pure and unquiet

to leap up to my small body,

to climb up to my parted lips.

How I became aware of my own heartbeat,

my lengthen breaths,

my tiniest pulsations,

wary of the extent of the Earth beneath

or the abyss of the galaxies in front of us:

the stars which were burning their cores

to light the path of your gaze—

those tiny mirrors of infinity reflecting back

all my coming days with you:

vibrant, joyful, mysteriously sweet.

So forgive me, my love, if somehow I have

missed all the cues for a first kiss

for I was too busy decoding an emotion

so strange I had mistaken your silhouette

as an extension of the horizon behind you:

as if your soul was impenetrable,

as if you were a prized treasure

planted by God on a mythical island

never to be touched by me nor by anyone.

Nonetheless, by the moment you held my hand

on that boat, under the crescent moon

you already knew the answer to an

unspoken question

when you have chosen to sail away with me

hand in hand

across the universe;

that moment which never ends,

that moment I fell deeply in love with you.

No—Hollywood is definitely not the first

to tweak the standard system for names!

Beyonce’s Blue Ivy, or Kim K’s North West

will surely become overrated once you land

in the streets of Manila and meet a horde of Junjun’s

—either all are ‘Junior’s’ or some are ‘June’s’

or find that most Filipino nicknames

are, indeed, meant to be repeated twice:

for instance, a Mark is Makmak, a Jennifer is Jenjen,

a Katrina is Katkat, a John is Janjan

and yes, a Frederick can be…you got it! 

(Must be a double Dick.)

‘+ng’ ending is also a centuries-old tradition:

a Pedro is Pedring, a Carmina is Mining

a Linda is Indang, a Dominic is Dodong

the incoming president Rodrigo is Digong

(oh just give me a name, and I’ll give the variation!).

But for parents who are much more creative,

combining the first two patterns is a nice way

to make sure that their kids' names would

literally ring in everyone's head—

For males: DingDong for a doorbell feel,

and if you ask for more, take Bongbong Marcos.

or the celebrities, Bing Loyzaga and Bong Revilla.

For females: Bangbang is highly acceptable,

so as Ningning or Tingting (for a pixie dust effect),

and the more organic, Potpot, Winwin and Bumbum.

Another pattern, the ingenious ‘H’ coding—

like my father, a Wilfred nicknamed Boy

(for some reasons as plain as the word sounds)

which, if written down, should be spelled as ‘Bhoy’

while Imelda, my mom, would be Mhel

along with the other, Dhoy, Mhay, Vhic and Nheng.

Not to mention the inexplicable obsession

of some fathers over the word ‘Boy’ for their boys:

Sammy Boy, Louie Boy, Honey Boy, and Teddy Boy.

Or some mothers over the word ‘Mae’ for their girls:

Krissa Mae, Cathy Mae and Jessel Mae.

How about a name from several names?

Geography, and religion can serve as inspiration:

Luzviminda, from the three main islands

(Luzon, Visayas and Mindanado),

and the holy Jejomar from Jesus, Joseph and Mary

but if the parents are really, deeply religious,

the second child is probably a Jelveme

(or Jesus Loves Me).

Still, you can’t help but ask why and where

the other half of the population got their names,

those which never adhere to any style or pattern

like Brod Pete, Ketchup, and senator Joker Arroyo,

or a boy named Bimby whose aunt is Ballsy.

Or question the trend among sentimental couples

who would soon make their growing kids wonder:

a Jan Eleven, a May Seven, an August Twelve

(which are all ‘special’ days—that’s for sure!)

an Italy, a Maine, or the sisters, Joy, Glad and Happy

a Henceforth, a Crack, a Lord Voldemort,

an ABCD, an XYZ, and a DoReMi

or can you stay serious with a man called Babe?

How about a mother named Spaghetti ’88

who has Cheese Pimiento for a baby?

The darkness was already filled with noises of evil when James walked into the barn. He could barely make sense out of everything in front of him at first, but soon, he would find the two shadows moving violently against the stacks of hay bales...two people who barely noticed that the door was ajar and someone was moving very slowly into the view:

'Brother?!’ James could have uttered the word with conviction and fury. He could have ran for the baseball bat inside the house, could have swung it hard against the devil’s body: thrice on the legs, and once on the head. He could have allowed the beast’s blood to seep into the cold ground where it belongs. Oh yes, he could have done all these, he thought! But, poor him! James' intense shivering cut through his bones even before he could move a muscle.

‘I can’t…oh God, I can’t…But…why can’t I?’ His thoughts were blown out of proportion when his eyes finally landed on the girl—this girl whom he deeply loved. This girl who just spat on all the years that they shared together. '

'How could you...'

James could have asked her the right questions. He could have done the right thing. But, he just stood there, stupidly, staring at them, his mind steadily drifting across and shrinking into the abyss of confusion. 

‘But I love her,' James whispered to himself, before turning around to escape, ‘This is just a nightmare.’

You.

You love me with your lips stitched shut.

You love the way I listen to you

whenever you teach me silence,

when you put your sweet sighs

across my mouth

and cradle my body into a dark corner

where I can breathe you in from afar.

That love which speaks through your eyes

tilted an inch away from mine.

While the rest of the world

can easily put those words into words,

you stay calm and modest

amidst your unspoken flames of emotions,

those which smoke away from a smile

or from a glance which carouses

in that place within me

where the other lovers can never visit.

I.

I love you with my ears only for the unheard.

I love that kind of love you rarely confess

through the smallest actions

done by your greatest strength

and even those cruel ones

within your depths I may never know.

Well, if in case, you would let me,

let me bury it down as a tiny seed

which will rise from the dirt

as a lovely white rose.

For even if you don't speak,

I will always hear you

through the hushes of the wind

that blow and warm the fringes of my hair.

I will listen to you the way the other lovers

will never do.

But if this love must vanish in total darkness

and be drowned in all the noisy revolts

which sins had cast,

or this envious world would turn tables

and all our memories had to lie,

remember

that as long as there is You and I,

you will be the Earth beneath my feet

who holds all dear in my life

and I will be living and feeding from you

as our silence

grows and grows

into forever.

We who never speak but listen.

Gray is the color of my sad heart

which nurtures a love that yearns

but never speaks

growing even colder than a stone

whenever I start walking in the rain.

It is the color of infinity,

the sound of deafening silence

along the straight road

the color of everything tasteless,

the face of a universe

which does not bear your name.

It is much like how I will call myself

if you leave me for nothing

and let me be stranded within

this color without color,

this existence without life.

Never ever use the words 'me, too'

whenever I talk sadness with you

or play a song that reduces my hurt

into a sand particle trapped in the eyelids.

For sadness to me is a tangible entity,

a companion, a friend,

a traitor, a bully,

a mocking voice in the coils of my sanity,

commanding me to beat myself up

without seeking my permission.

So whenever I talk sadness with you,

or crawl and weep in front of you

never ever use the words, 'me, too'

or laugh or sigh at what I say or do

Just hold my hand, and let me cry

Just listen to what I never say

Doubts never end and stay unclear

my love remains in mist

Nothing is real and concrete here

in this dance we enlist

But with your grin I feel so sure

your curved up lips is zeal

Amidst the truth that is obscure

from your glance all will heal

So here I am now and again

and love you from afar

I shall never despair from then

and breathe from where hopes are

So rain on me the dread in time

forge pleasure at the most

See all my tears be out of rhyme

let me dance with your ghost

Then I will not reflect once more

what will and what should be

Such silence was the bliss I wore

misguided let me be

For I will love you all alone

I need your sympathy

I shall have faith for the unknown

All for eternity

You know I'm strong.

Even if you can't do this, I'll be strong.

The ocean is still an ocean,

the sky is still a sky

        But an ocean without its horizon

        a sky full of dark clouds.

My world is still here though.

There is still the dark mist that hides the sky,

and the huge grey cliffs which bury all the directions,

the sun, the moon and its stars.

There is still the stillness in the ravens' call.

The heavy waves still roll

and drown my white naked feet on the shore.

And I know I still exist. I still walk and breathe.

         Partly breathe, but it doesn't matter.

For I still can and that's what should be.

Even if you're like this for the next decades,

for you I will always be strong.

But please, be still. Stay as far as you're near.

Let those eyes be as empty as they are.

Dark, distant, a stare of nothingness, I don't care.

We are both blind anyway.

        And I am always kind.

Even when I know

you are not behind your skin when I touch you,

I won't complain. I can't feel anything either.

As long as you stay with me like this forever,

in this island where there's no night or day,

Even when you're just a ghost, unfeeling, soundless,

staring straight at the grey, hushed waters,

I won't let myself know you are.

Even when your heart had already crossed this isle

and left me for another,

as long as your body, your face,

your unsmiling face, is here,

you are mine.

         Mine.

Even if I know that you being here is a lie,

as long as I can still sleep on your silent bosom,

and I can still lean on your cold arms,

you will always be adorned, and worshiped.

And I will keep my head like this on your lap 

as I stare at the white sky, watch and taste 

your dry mouth from the splashes

        of the rushing waves,

then feel the thin silhouette of your face,

your hands, your feet, your chest, your hair,

your soul from all the shadows around me.

These feelings are immortal

and I have already immortalized you,

here, in this isle, 

        where I am always strong.