Tag Archives: writing

His Name

I heard your name for the firs time in ten months today. The sound of your name stirred unbidden thoughts in my mind, as if someone threw a pebble in the pond to watch the dirt drift to the surface. I wanted to know if you were okay, if you finally got what you wanted and if life had been nicer to you than it was to me. But when I found out that you asked about me, my heart pounded a little bit faster. I wasn’t prepared for that and I was taken aback, as though I was sucked inside a wormhole, traveling back to that night when we were standing underneath the lamppost and the light illuminated your eyes, making it appear brighter than it really was. I thought at that moment, “The stars were made for us.”
I blinked and found myself staring out into space, seeing the silhouette of your body as if they were taped inside my eyelids. I thought about how it would be if I would suddenly see you standing there in front of me, our distance only an arm’s length. I doubt I could look you in the eye. I’m scared of what I might see in them. But mostly, I’m scared of what I might feel, because honestly, after all this time, I’m still not ready.

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.

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.

For the Notebooks I Never Got to Use

 

Have you ever found yourself buying notebooks just because the cover or paper was cute? I do this most of the time when I’m at a bookstore, at novelty shops and pretty much wherever I see notebooks.

Last month, while cleaning my dorm room, I found a stash of unused notebooks in my closet. There were about a dozen of them, covered in a thin layer of dust just waiting to be picked up and used. I felt really bad when I saw the notebooks. I remember saying to myself that I would use them to write poems, journals and stories but I never did. I sat down and picked each notebook up. Brushing away the dust, I opened it and flipped through the pages, trying to catch that sweet scent of paper and yet, all I could smell was dust. I thought to myself, how would the notebook feel if it was human? Would it feel sad, depressed, alone and unwanted? Or would it think that it was nothing but a pretty face?

I asked myself why I never used the notebooks? Was it because I was busy or was I uninspired? But no. The reason behind that was very simple. I didn’t want to use it because I was afraid to make a mistake, leave an ugly mark or rip off a page. But if I don’t use it, the notebook would soon lose its essence until it becomes an object only taken for its face value.

That’s when I realized that unused notebooks are just like the people we love. Sometimes, we choose to stay away from the people we love because we’re afraid of hurting them. What we don’t realize is that mistakes and problems are what makes a relationship stronger. The marks we leave in people are what they will remember us by.

I know there will come a time when these mistakes will end relationship, but that shouldn’t stop us from loving and interacting with other people. After all, there are four types of people in our lives. Those who are meant to stay with you, those whom you will briefly meet but will change your life, those who will abandon you and those whom you have to let go of.

I’m trying to make a difference. It’ll take a while before I use all the notebooks I stashed. But one day, I will look back at these notebooks, browsing through the pages and reminiscing every word I ever wrote. And like memories, I will tuck them in every corners of my life to share with the people I cherish.

Disclaimer: Photos taken from Tumblr and link back to the sources

Untitled Poetry

Flowers dried and forgotten
Letters lost and unopened
I brush away the sleeping dust
Open the pages to the past.

A vision comes to view,
A memory of me and you
An old picture reappears
Yesterday feels so near.

My heart starts to beat fast
Like the first time we met in the past
You were loving, always kind
I wonder why I left you behind.

Why is it that we didn’t last?
Why fade away into dust?

Wrote this last night. I’m don’t know what title to give it yet or if its already finished. I feel like there’s something missing though.