Poetry

7 Things I Learned From the Universe

1. The earth is not a sphere and nothing is ever as it seems.

2. No one is perfect, even the sun has dark spots.

3. Stars are huge balls of hot gas, too far away to reach and touch. I forgot that when I pinned you up there in the sky, thinking that you would remain permanent like the North Star. But you never looked back and went too far and I can’t reach you anymore.

4. You can come to the point of loving someone so much you burst like a supernova, scattering lights so brilliant one would think of stars being born. But when the lights run out, you’re left with a dead star and a black hole.

5.Heartbreak is like a black hole; it sucks the happiness from you. Its gravitational pull is so strong that you can’t escape from it. It warps your sense of time that you can’t figure out exactly whether you’re somewhere between the past and the present or are you dwelling in the idea of what should have been.

6. The earth cannot revolve backwards and I can never turn back the time. You can hold back your tears but you can’t pull it back once it falls. You can only hope that someone is there to wipe the tear stains from your face and erase the saltiness from your lips.

7. When I was eight years old they told me that Pluto was the last planet in the solar system. But 4 years later, they said that Pluto was no longer a planet, that it does not have the capability to clear away objects from its path, that it was just not good enough.

Loving you felt like that. It felt like waiting for a hundred years just to be a little bit closer to you but I cannot jump over orbits and meteors and fell short that you turned your back on me.

I’m sorry for not being enough, for not loving you the way she did, for not being the answer to your what ifs and what could have been. I’m sorry for being your mistake.

I tried wishing upon stars, hoping to find love at the edge of the galaxy but even heavenly bodies cannot give you something they do not have. And I waited, and am waiting still, for that someone who will stand up and say, “You will always be enough,” the same way that others have fought for Pluto’s planetary status. Someone who will hold my hand and it will mean the world to him. And each time that I say, “I love you,” he will say, “I love you too.”

Diary, English, Journaling, Life, Poetry, Thoughts

This is our story

Words are not what they used to be,
back when each word you wrote carried the weight of your hand
and with it the stories of how you learned to write
and the mistakes that taught you how.

Typewritten words are so swift and quick it has taken away
the beauty and art of writing. It does not
teach you how the wrong words, even when erased, leave a mark.
Your fingers do not carry the weight of perfecting your handwriting, you just choose
whichever font suits you and format it within seconds.
It had become a habit you’re used to doing that repeating it
over and over again
takes away everything until it becomes
nothing.

That is our story.
A bunch of words that never carried the weight of our lives
that it always left us feeling empty. We tried to bridge the gap
with words, filling the empty spaces.
But when you fill emptiness with nothing, it implodes.
And every time we made a mistake, we jumped
one step back and pretended that it never happened.
We did this over and over again that the marks our mistakes left became
permanent, we forgot it was never there when we started.

I asked you to write me a letter,
one that carried the weight of your hand, the heaviness of your thoughts,
one that carried stories of mistakes, of revisions, because you wanted your
handwriting to be perfect. But you didn’t. Instead,
you gave me one printed from a computer shop across the street because
you were too lazy to set up your printer.
The words sounded poetic, it was an ocean I had to dive deep into.
But it meant nothing.

I knew you typed that letter in five minutes, that
you didn’t bother to think of the words in advance because
you knew that you could always press delete whenever you wanted to.
You would right click one of the words and check out its synonyms
because you thought it would make the words sound better. But it didn’t.
Your letter lost its meaning from the very moment you typed it in your computer screen.

If only.
If only we learned from the start that empty words
would never fill the space between us. Maybe we wouldn’t have hearts
jagged and broken because our pieces never fit together.
Maybe we would never make those mistakes over and over again. Maybe we would never
pretend that we felt warm when we wrapped our arms around each other,
maybe we would have the strength to let go because
we knew we were better on our own.
If only. But we didn’t.

English, Journaling, Poetry, Thoughts

There Must Be Something

Sometimes, I’d wake up at 3AM and life would flash before me, a stop motion picture of my favorite memories: waking up in bed with you, feeling your heartbeat beneath my hand as you opened your eyes and planted a soft kiss on my lips; you’d wrap your arms around me while you played your guitar, laughing to my off-tune version of ‘Falling in Love With You’; you’d trail kisses on my shoulder while I cooked in the kitchen, then grab my hand and spin me around like we were dancing at a ball and our daughter would laugh at the silliness of it. But as the first ray of sunlight knocked on my window, I looked at the empty side of my bed, realizing I was remembering memories that never happened, instead created.

English, Journaling, Poetry

Reverie

I want to tell you that your name reverberates in my soul that each time you’re near, I come undone. I want to say that you are the prince the five-year-old me was waiting for, you are every bit of the dreams and plans I want for my future — you are the arms that embraces me while I cook in the kitchen, you are the smell of morning coffee, you are the hands holding mine at the grocery store, you are the voice from the pages of my books, you are the candlelight dinners, you are the waltz I dance to, you are the goodnight kisses, you’re who I wake up to. You are not perfect but I want you just the same. I want to tell you that your lips are what I want for my first, my second, my third, my last kiss. I want your fingers between my fingers, your arms around me. I want to tell you that I love you, that I am yours completely.

Diary, English, Journaling, Life, Poetry, Thoughts

Fall Down

How can I be an angel
when you clipped my wings
and burned up the feathers?

My feet are blistered
and bleeding
from running after the wind,
jumping
and hoping
that the breeze
would carry me
where it blows.

But I fall to the ground,
my balance lost,
flight unregained.

I stand up
and jump again.