Poetry

Peanut Butter

To my favourite,
a secret ingredient,

A sweet and sticky situation
your name always stuck to the roof of my mouth whenever I thought of you
perhaps that’s why I get tongue tied whenever I’m with you
That is something a simple taste test can fix

Whether or not you have a bite to every chew,
you always come on so smooth that I forget about the crunch
packed punches that I am never ready for but I seem to catch every single one
I block the rolls with a bite of my own
each jab stinging of honey
sweetness soothing each blow,
we both kept fighting for more

We eventually end up sticking, never stuck
but I got you sandwiched
surrounded by walls that you could easily escape
but you held me close
close enough to feel your texture,
a consistency that would continue to spread for as long as we craved

You never tire me,
your effects are what I have an appetite for
and I am full every single time.
The satisfaction you give is more than enough to last me
yet I find myself wanting to open your jar
to dive inside
because I want more.
I want more than just your taste.

Flavours strong enough to puncture my senses
and soft enough to caress me for the rest of the day
I grow curious of your versatility with each dish
something I’ve secretly and selfishly desired
Dining alone never bothered me because this meant I never had to share
I had every component of the experience to myself
each element of your essence to myself
now I just want you all to myself

But are you ready to add honey to your life?
I felt a hint of hesitation after your last bite
they say some cravings run deep
I just hope yours does too

I fear for the day that I forget what peanut butter tastes like
I fear for the day I no longer crave for it,
long for it like it is the only meal I have yet to try
Yet I still try to make do with you and the crumbs you give me
because you are my best kept secret,
my favourite ingredient

 

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Poetry

Me vs. I

The one I sought after fought her way to the top
I beg she never falls down
or,
I beg her spirit never falls down
I know what the ground feels like but I’ve fallen in ways I could never imagine
these ways only felt in nightmares,
I remember grasping for air
I mean, gasping for air
it was almost like I was born again but for the very first time

I’ve learned how to crawl
to navigate through each tumble
and rolled with each fall
I built these legs so I could stand up again
and walk until I grow tired
I forget that I tire myself too easily, each step heavier than my last
but my heart beats as a reminder to pace myself

It was morning when she awoke and felt her soul stretch
her rays reaching the lengths of the horizons
reaching every peak to elevate the day
reaching every peak to elevate the day
reaching every peak to elevate the day

But what side of the world do you stand on?

Are you sure you are even standing?

Don’t lie to yourself now.

You can never lie in the presence of the one standing in front of that mirror
– she says to herself

It was as if she had to wake up again to realize her metamorphosis
her evolution into tomorrow
into the very next second
slowly filling all that is her essence

But with every day she rises she knows to never mourn the death of her past selves

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Poetry

t-eye-dal wave

Staring out at the stars
their eyes glisten back at me
reassurance of being guided
the right path leading me silent
a journey diving into my mind
I never realized my full potential

A climb of my mental staircase
I stared blankly into the doorway of my past
they whispered flashes of memories back at me
a humble reminder of where I come from
my feet have now been washed
a new set of toes will carry me home
eventually

Bright lights in the sky
a common sign
guiding those lost
especially those that have forgotten
either or
something is always missing
always searching for the next high
these altitudes have been played out
my senses need to heighten
I promise I won’t get lost in the clouds
Instead, I’ll carry them home with me
eventually

This energy seeps
spitting droplets of hope
replenishing rough grounds
I am comfortable
feet firmly planted
I have grown roots in my time here
leaving an imprint in the soil
a full cycle
multiplying its frequency
its energy never dies
its energy never lies
I give myself life once again
reviving my soul to its standard
yet always surpassing where I last was
I will keep growing
until it is time for me to go home

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thoughts

farewell?

It’s been months since my Lolo has passed, over a month since my Lola passed, and a few days since Mac Miller has passed.

Y’all probably reading that last name with a confused face, thinking, Mac Miller? She’s hit after his death?

Yeah, I’m fucking hit. I’m still hit. I cried AT work when I got messages in two group chats about him passing… He’s so young, so fucking brilliant. Only God knows where his career was going to take off (only God knows how heaven is rocking with him right now).

Death has heavily surrounded my life this year, (let alone these past two months) and I’m not too sure where my head is at, at the moment. I’m stuck between wanting to surround myself with my friends (and being completely content in our silence, as I more so want to sit in their presence) and completely isolating myself. You don’t even have to tell me because I already know that the latter is unfuckinghealthy. A few minutes or hours or even a day of solitude, fine, but not a habitual turned ritual state of complete isolation… Which is something I am trying to fight – and if it weren’t for work and its unruly hours, I wouldn’t have this problem. BUT STILL. (There are issues within these hours themselves but that’s for another chat)

Anyway.

I had spoken to one friend about how I felt after my Lola passed. I was numb, yes, but also in a space of already accepting her passing. After being flooded with messages of, “Are you okay?“, “Let me know if you need anything“, and similar consoling words, I was already feeling annoyed with having to repeat the same, I’m okay, I’ll be fine, I’m just riding the waves at this point to everybody, and I had told her that over dinner. I’m glad she understood where I was coming from because I just wanted to be left alone. However, I also understand where everyone is coming from. They were just doing what friends fucking do – provide love, support, and care. And I love them eternally for it. I do.

But now, after Mac’s passing [at such a young age], thoughts about my own death came in like a dam breaking. These thoughts first fruitfully came after my Lola passed. I was thinking about my passing. I started to think about the fact that my parents… I can’t even finish that sentence without freaking the fuck out. I was thinking about how I’d have to face what my mother once faced and what my father is now facing – losing a parent. I don’t know how my dad is taking it, but I remember a brief conversation with my mom the other day and she casually said that death was my dad’s biggest fear. This made me [somewhat] understand why he moves the way he does in terms of his caution and alertness – something that my sister and I tend to joke about. But now I get it.

I also get that no matter how cautious and prepared you may be, death always finds its way and wins.

I move like I’m so ready to die at any given moment because [I like to believe that] I’ve lived so much in so little time but I’m only twenty fucking three. I haven’t even scratched the surface of living. I’ve lived in my youth and I am now starting to live as a young adult. I’m confident enough to say that this shit I call living isn’t even living. Nobody prepared me for the struggles of adulthood, the loneliness of adulthood, let alone the strength that you have to constantly have just to push through adulthood. Oh, and then we die. Eventually. Ha.

I’m tired. I feel like I’ve psyched myself and thought my way into this white noise.

But really and truly, I am fucking scared. I’m really going to die in like 60+ years (if I’m lucky) and I am terrified as fuck. Life is moving too fast for me. 2018 is almost over like January wasn’t taking years to pass. We’re only getting older and time does not wait for anybody.

These are the thoughts that have been haunting me for the past month… And will still continue to haunt me.


There’s nothing well about a farewell – there’s always a fare involved in saying goodbye.

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Poetry

Letter to Lola

As you rest in power, I can’t help but to think of a string of apologies that I’ve kept at the back of my throat
The strength in holding them weakened my voice
So I apologize for staying silent for so long,
I’m sorry I’ve missed you

I’m sorry for my absences
I never thought my attendance would matter in the long run
I skipped quality time for time that ticks money
And now I’ll never be able to share my wealth with you
The times I’ve spent while away
While paying my dues
While making sure that I was okay, first and foremost
If there is one thing university taught me, it’s that skipping classes will have you miss out on key lessons – and most times they’re not from the textbook

I’m sorry for being selfish
It was so hard for me to see you suffer
I watched you carry my sister, my younger cousins
As I am sure you have carried me, Chris, Jas, Kuya and Ate too
Your arms spread like Nike’s wings, you carried us to victory
Up until you no longer could
Up until we ourselves learned how to fly on our own
And had to look down to see you laying with all of your strength confined to your bed
It hurt to see you incapable
It hurt to fly without you
I promise the clouds will comfort you more than your bed ever has

I’m sorry for letting go too soon
For the times I’d see you and not hold your hand long enough
For not constantly reminding you who I was
Who I am
Anak si Pidong. Anak si Meren. Capatid si Melissa.
I will never forget the smile that shone when you remembered
It was the brightest 10 seconds before memories faded back to black

I’m sorry for not being by your side in your last moments
But I promise you I celebrated life
Especially yours and its freedom into eternity
I felt the supernova of your soul touch the atmosphere
Maybe that’s why it was scorching outside that day
I felt the heat of your steps catching every beat
I swear you were with my friends and I
You let me know that you can walk again
That you can sing again
That you remember who the fuck I am

And I know you can see and hear me better now
But I’m sorry that this is not in Ilokano or Tagalog
Though I recently developed a craving for it
I still yearn for my mother tongue
An opportunity for a seat at the table
An opportunity for a seat with you
I wanted to know your story
To capture the beginning of as far as I knew the Toquero’s ran
The start of Tita Rose’s crawl
It was the beginning of us being rooted to you
We are the fruits of your neverending labour
Though we are not your end
Your legacy will transcend generations

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Poetry

the start of the words i’ll never say

I wish I was in love with you
that way I have a reason to be sad
a reason to cry over you

But I’m not
[if this isn’t love, then what is it]

yet I’m sitting on waterfalls
wondering how I got here
how I got this far up
when I knew the fall will be much harder
but this hurts more than I anticipated
water crashing all around me
I’m swimming in my own pool

Tales were meant to be tales
yet this one is coming true
the one disappearing act I thought nothing of
until days rendered deserted
I was slowly becoming the ones I claimed to not be
the ones you left in the dust with no regard
when I once was held to the highest degree
and now it’s
just

me

sending daily reminders
when I know you’re no longer there
when in fact I was reminding myself,
“Hope you’re good”
I hope I’m good, too

I’ve lost count of the days
perhaps it’s been weeks
I think months now,
and I still wonder
if I am going to get the same ending
the same ghost-like hello’s after having dissipated from my periphery

But this time I won’t know for how much longer

 

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