English, Life, Poetry, Thoughts, Uncategorized

To the man I love, my soulmate

I like to think that we are reincarnations of our past selves. That hundreds of years ago, we promised that we would find each other again. That we would fall in love all over again, like it was the first time we fell for someone.

I like to think that this separation of ours is only temporary because in our next lives, the universe will conspire to bring us together, that we would meet again under better circumstances. That even though we have no recollection of our past, it would still feel like we have known each other before, loved each other before, that each time, when we held hands, when we are in each other’s arms, it would feel like we were born for that moment, for the sole purpose to be together.

There will be quiet nights when we would look at the stars and you would wrap your arms around me as I sit in your lap. I would hug you back and caress your shoulder, the back of your neck, run my fingers through your hair. You would undress me like you were unwrapping a gift and kiss every part of me, even the ones I hate the most. And I would hate them a little less because you said you loved them. We’d lie in bed and I would hug you closer and while I sleep, you would kiss my forehead, my eyes, the bridge of my nose, my lips, and you would whisper, “I love you so much.” We’d cuddle and share our deepest thoughts, dreams and plans for the future.

In that life I would still drive you crazy and I’d still be breaking my walls to love you back. But in that life, we won’t have to run after time, or make do with the stolen moments we had. We can spend as much time together as we want, hold hands where we are. We’d never care about the people around us because they won’t matter. In both this life, and that one, I will still fall, deeply, madly, in love with you. I will still feel consumed by your love. My breath will quiver whenever you kiss me, my body will still tremble at your proximity and my heart will still beat as fast whenever you touch me.

But right now, in this life, I will hold your hand and tell you about the things I liked the most. I would leave random notes on your table and hope that you would love them. I will tell you about this song that I’ve been listening to lately and smile when you would sing it the next time we are together. I’d wait for your phone call every single day, and I would savor the sound of your voice. I would think about you when I eat my favorite food or whenever I would buy my favorite ice cream. On nights when I couldn’t sleep and every part of me is asking, “Where is he and why isn’t he here?” I would hug your jacket closer and try to see you in my dreams. We will talk about how our days went, how we missed each other even when we’re still together and how perfect it would have been if we could just stay in that moment. There will be times when I would think, “In another life, we would have been perfect for each other,” and when I look at you, I would know you were thinking the same.

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


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,
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.

Diary, English, Journaling, Life, Poetry, Thoughts


How do you decide to leave someone?


Where do words go
when they are not used?

Do they sleep in beds
covered with blankets
to keep them warm
and alive?

Do they fall in love?
Are subjects and predicates
forever intertwined?

Are adverbs stronger
than verbs?
Are pronouns understudy
of nouns?
Are prepositions for finding
lost things only?
Are adjectives merely colors
used to paint the world?
Are interjections more emotional
than punctuations?

I sat there,
when you came in.
A question formed
in your lips
and in your eyes
I found the answer.

English, Journaling, Life, Photography, Poetry

Scratch Paper

Why do writers waste so much paper? I asked you that once. You laughed as you pulled me into your lap. You answered me in hushed tones, whispers that spoke of mistakes you must make to come up with something beautiful, of things you must waste to find a jewel.

Am I a scratch paper? I asked. You held my face then kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. No, you aren’t. You are my muse.

edgeofjade - photography 1
(c) Dean Canizo