What is Love?

What do you know of love, they asked. I know nothing. I know not of words that could describe my thoughts, of songs that could express my emotions or of colors that could paint the pictures in my mind.

But I know of you. I have memorized the outline for your form the way I memorized the embroidered flowers on my sheets. I can close my eyes and see the silhouette of your body. I know all your curves, the nook in your arm or the gaps between your fingers.

I remember the touch of your skin. I have run my fingers on your palm, tracing the lines in your hand, mapping your past, your present and your future.

Your voice resounds in my ears, echoing like a hundred wind chimes, sweet and pleasant. I have memorized your eyes, it’s depths like shadows in the night. I have looked into it a thousand times and each time, I found myself falling.

I see you in my memory as if I’m looking at photographs. I watch you over and over in my mind as if I was watching a film at the cinema.

I know nothing of love but I know of you.

The Boy Who Loved Another

Peter Pan

The flowers smell sweeter
when I am with you
I see the sky through
the mirror in your eyes
Your hand is my home
and your fingertips
cover me with warmth

but

the longing
in your eyes
fills me with pain
How can her memories
stay in your mind
yet empty your heart of happiness?

Peter Pan,
when will you look at me?
I’ve been flying beside you
but you’re always
looking
at windows,
searching
for a shadow
of one who has left
long ago.

Peter Pan,
will you fly away with me?
stop looking for her shadow
and catch a glimpse
of my face
and there you will see
all the love
there could ever be.

———————————

My heart is smaller than your fingertips
but my love is bigger than all of your parts.

Jade Herrera photographed by Paul Forrest Jade Herrera photographed by Paul ForrestJade Herrera photographed by Paul Forrest (Photos photographed by Paul Forrest at Artisano Studio)

I’m supposed to be writing a poem about union, but here I am blogging in the wee hours of morning, waiting for the first sunlight to peek through the sky, and listening to songs that could make brokenhearted people cry buckets of tears.

When I watched Peter Pan, I wasn’t interested in his romance with Wendy because I felt really bad for Tinker Bell. Tinker Bell has always been there for Peter Pan and though Margaret Kerry said that Tinker Bell is not in love with Peter Pan, I still think she had special feelings for him. Most of the people I knew were irked and disliked Tinker Bell because she caused so much mischief for Wendy, but I love her character the most.

Tinker Bell for me was the bravest character in that movie, not Wendy or Peter Pan. I admired her courage to sacrifice herself to correct the wrong things she did. I liked how she was always with Peter Pan, flying beside him like a shadow. But when Wendy came into the picture, she ended up in the sideline. As a child, I told myself that Tinker Bell must have been sad and heartbroken to see that she had been replaced by Wendy. There must have been times that she thought to herself “If only I am Wendy then Peter would still be with me.”

That was one of the reasons why I’ve always wanted to write a poem in Tinker Bell’s perspective. To be honest, I’ve had this poem in my mind for years. But every time, I try to write it, the words never seem right. It still doesn’t sound right, but maybe I’ll be able to revise this poem when my eyes is no longer heavy with sleep or my mind is no longer occupied with the things that I have to do.

Sorry for the lengthy post. I haven’t blogged for a long time and I got carried away. I hope you don’t mind. By the way, here are some songs that also became my inspiration in writing this poem:

Here’s an English cover of EXO’s Peter Pan. (Can’t find one for Yenny though)

[Untitled]

His memory lingers in my mind,
like bruises I hide
but can’t unfeel.
I touch one and the pain stings -
this is where he used to touch me,
this is where he used to kiss me.

I feel his fingers tug my hair,
his breath on my skin,
his heart pounding and beating,
nervous like mine,
his lips on my lips,
his skin on my skin.

I remember his voice,
his books,
the scent of the coffee he makes
and how our legs
tangled beneath the sheets.

Memories are photographs
scattered on the floor.
I see a smile,
I see a wink,
I see a flower,
I see an old teddy bear.

My eyes close and I feel the pain,
it’s tingling all over my body.
Love is beautiful but it hurts,
like a rose filled with thorns.

Light

jade herrera high fashion photography writing light allen cabsI’ve always wanted to have a studio photo shoot and thanks to my dear friend Mariel and the ever talented sir Allen, my dream came true. We wanted to pull off a theme similar to High Cut Korea, simple but classy. Here are some of the photos from the shoot.

jade herrera high fashion photography writing light allen cabs jade herrera high fashion photography writing light allen cabs

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