my pen was made
to bleed the words of grief;

"there's something so beautiful
and profound in grief
when you start to see it
for what it truly is."

past the barriers
and stretching distance,
i caressed my aching soul;
this grief of mine grew out of love

for grief, in what it truly is,
is a love that endures
and suffers willingly.

IA

how must i feel when the older i get,
"life is a suffering," is a belief harder to forget,
is this because i've looked in the eyes of death
and found such restful freedom
yet to turn everything i was, i am, and will be
into a mosaic, a picturesque, a fading silhouette.

IA

beautiful, fleeting beginnings
collide two restless souls
to strip naked before each other,
****** manifests imperfection,
they were clothed with love
and when the time pass and it wears off,
two naked souls pick up its own clothes,
and unknowingly return to strangers.

IA

bedroom curtains drape before the sunrise,
as i long for catharsis and hope, not beautiful lies,
staring from the same corner with tired eyes;
some old wounds demands a grieving visit as time flies.

IA

i have left pieces of me to people i've loved,
i called it art; some remains close to me like home,
some are kept and never retrieved, relentlessly wandering ;
round and round in a museum filled of memories & history.

IA ☕

i know a tragic poetry;

two souls met and burned together
for each other and for the world,
fate blew the flame and then
they parted as strangers.

IA

people possess three things in life:
a shield, a heart, and a dagger

a shield for the logic,
a heart for the soul,
a dagger forged by the strength of emotion,
unbeknownst to many about its origin.

people used these three things,
a dagger to protect oneself from this cruel world,
a heart to beat its rhythm of existence,
and a shield to ward off the weapon from wounding and distorting a heart.

why do we need a dagger?
it takes two to tango,
it takes chaos to begin chaos.

people wander relentlessly,
breathing, and existing and loving,
until a dagger pierces through,
leaving an open wound,
and a weapon sharpened.

little do we know,
the closer the proximity,
the more ideal love gets,
the lesser we see it coming,
the lesser we forget,
a shield is used to protect a soft, beating creature.

from an open wound,
and sharp weapon,
the cycle of chaos arise,
few people heal,
multifolds stab another heart,
"perhaps there will always be another heart to break."

one polished its shield very well;
the logic and knowledge
choked a heart to non-existence,
there was nothing left to stab,
there was nothing left to feel.

one stood with a wooden shield,
a state of balance within,
of calm and chaos and fear
to wound and lose its heart,
and be forced to survive with a dagger.

the pandemic goes on,
perhaps only until the daggers cease to exist,
soft creatures cannot battle with a heartless one,
it can only tame a while, until it becomes distorted and heartless too.

the pandemic weakens
when a wounded heart heals,
not because of the shield,
not because of time itself,
but because it's a wonder: some hearts can never be irreparably broken.

IA

A quaintrelle's heart is precious,
Even more so when it pursues
Not a man to love her, but her own growth.

Passion was its heartbeat,
Enclosed in a rib cage made of forged knives
so that a real man should struggle before it.

For a woman who knows her worth and beauty,
knows well that no one could be irreparably broken
Even when she ironically used forged knives to protect her scars.

IA

my heart was hammered a couple times,
of a few lovers who knew bittersweet crimes,
even with these remnants, I want to bet on uncertainty
I want to learn how to love again - fearlessly even in adversity.

IA

thousands of colors drip
as memories traverse deep;

i ventured the corner where we used to meet,
in my head, you were more than just black and white
a creature with a beautiful soul, always within sight,
yet the inevitable ending urged me for this lonely visit.

the silence drowned me and i wanted to hear a heartbeat
from where the light glows and your shadow goes,
the battle between how my heart feels and what my mind knows;
i sat down, knowing it requires a mightier feat.

IA

a gloriously beautiful man and angel
cast down to heavens
for his pride and rebellious streak,
sympathizing the tempting evil, Satan.

then is a fallen angel commiserating
the iniquity of a sinner who needed it most,
whose name and itself is a scapegoat,
to him ascribe all sin and darkness,
the corruption of humanity,
as he himself is chained
to the rough and jagged rocks,
awaiting the vicious torment,
just like a scapegoat sinner in dire need
of common humanity's prayer.

IA

peace exists only until
you destroy its walls,
your words bled its ears,
you suffocate it with love,
you dim the light of hope,
you wreak havoc in its home,
and left like a prideful coward,
just when the beast in slumber awakens.

IA

we're all just a blink in a ripple of time,
everything, be it good or bad, is temporary
a faultless coincidence or an action to a crime
in a realistic end, everything happens for a reason.

IA

running out of my favorite coffee
on such a fine evening to work and write poetry,
without a hot mug beside, it feels incomplete in all honesty,
went for some decaf, apologies, my taste does not really fancy

IA ☕

it was remember to forget;
that then is not the same as now,
and miles have stretched in between since we have met.

IA

we're down to the sixth month of twenty-twenty
closing previous chapters, chasing new camaraderie
the chasm and contagious line of diversion keeps worsening
it's alright to wish for new beginnings or a regression to the mean.

have some fearless faith, today is a fresh, blank slate
dare to carve wishes with hope to what is unexpected by fate.

IA ☕

in the subtlety of time,
they dragged me into a dark pit of existence,
sundered my being with their sharp claws
of everything as dark as their eye pupils
they had no ears to listen to my wails,
chained in terror, at loss for hope;
I was their sole epitome of misanthrope,
birthed by my own mind; demons beyond my scope

loneliness engulfed me; the downside of solitude
demons voided me from a life well-pursued
they were an illusion who loves to delude,
day by day, I attempted to befriend them,
what better way to lure an enemy into a friend condemned?

yet there was a root to its subsistence,
there was pain to its persistence,
it was real, desiring for our coexistence.

IA ☕