excerpts from her mind

Hindi ako tumututol sa kapiranggot na biyaya; sanay akong mamulot ng mga nalalaglag mula sa iyong mga palad

Ngunit may isang tanong na hindi matangay ng hangin— kailan pa naging panata ng pag-ibig ang manatiling nasusunog upang paniwalaan?

Sapagkat habang lalo mong isinasabuhay ang panahon ng yelo, lalo namang sumisiklab ang aking dibdib.

to a place my mind has already burned.

One says,

stay until the ache forgets your name.

The other counts exits,

memorizes the sound of doors closing.

I am loved—

or perhaps only touched by the shape of it.

Enough to bloom,

never enough to root.

How strange,

to be held by hands

that feel like letting go.

Some nights

I mistake silence for peace,

and longing for proof.

I have buried you a hundred times,

yet every dawn

finds dirt beneath my fingernails.

If love is a language,

then ours is written in disappearing ink—

visible only when it hurts.

So I remain,

half prayer,

half apology,

waiting for whichever arrives first:

the courage to leave,

or the mercy

Yet, each time the calendar adds that suffix, something inside me cracks. The nights grow longer, but it's not the cold that bites—it's the weight in my chest.

As the days slip into their festive coats, my heart aches, beating out a rhythm only I seem to hear. My mind stirs, restless, like a storm trapped within, drowning out the carols.

if it is not about you—

or us,

or everything we've been through.