Lachryprose

My hands would only fail To lift each letter sent through mail I must move somewhere for a new address There, I might, find some happiness But the postman says he’ll find me here Where the future is far and the past is near

I can leave the city and never return But bridges once crossed don’t really burn If one looks back where the letters come from Though each reply is only seldom Still, my hands would merrily write Each lazy morning, each tiring night

As the hole in between grows ever wide My words would flow as much as I cried If my letters would soon be left unread Sealed, unopened, beneath your bed My love remains for you to find And ever since, it was always blind

Our eyes could only see as far But they cannot reveal who we really are And if my pen would be my last friend I would write our story from beginning to end For the sound of goodbyes can never heal A heart that used to know how to feel

I could no longer recognize the person who wrote the drafted entries.

Those are mostly unfinished, but the emotion seems to linger.

Unfortunately, I cannot bring myself to write the endings as he would have intended them to be.

Because I don’t know him anymore.

He created this blog in hopes of finding a safe place to furtively write as truthful as his thoughts. A place for catharsis, for self-reflection.

And as for me, I have seen and experienced things that exceeded the expectations of the idealistic poet who took a leap of faith to express himself, though in shadows of anonymity.

But I cannot stay here, with these memories that I find no relevance to my current life.

For I believe that the past is only a place to measure one’s distance of travel across time and space.

It is not a place of dwelling.

On top of that, I seem to have failed to continue the legacy of the poet who established this. He had more dreams for such writings of melancholia. His inventive mind attempted to catapult those heavy emotions to the sky, so that their weight would not pull them back to Earth, but would project them far into the outer stretches of gravity, along with the light of the stars.

I am sad, that I wasn’t successful in bringing his dreams to life. And so I will leave these works for everyone to see.

If any of these had delighted readers, it would certainly gratify him.

If any of these changed someone’s life, even with the slightest epiphany, it would certainly make him an efficient writer.

May anyone who comes across this blog learn this: in whichever situation you are in, please understand that life is a wheel that turns around. You will not stay at the bottom for the rest of your life if you did not allow it. Pain is only one of the many faces of life. Feel it, take it, until you reach that glorious moment of liberation that will struck you with so much confidence that you will be convinced to breathe life unto a new, and far better version of yourself.

Keep going. He was already proud that you have that hope to hold on to.

Come close and pull off those  Covers and turn off the lights Hold your breath as the noise Shudders in the quiet and leave the fights Raging here and there, inside your mind Just leave it be, leave it all behind Sooner or later, you'll come to find Me wearing my honesty And utmost sincerity Lips meet slow, Time stands frozen I just want to listen To your midnight blues Witness your eyes glisten as we muse Over countless exchange of "I love you's" Whilst I caress your face Recalling those days That quickly fled And now has gone When truths were said And battles won But here we are still Watching our scars heal For in between ruffled hairs and muffled moans Awakened are my sleeping bones And calls ignored from ringing phones For I’d rather miss Those things than a kiss On soft, rosy cheeks We’ll figure out what else to fix Now our hearts are no longer broken And the past is long forgotten Beyond pleasures, groans and skin See me as I've always been I'll be the one to say That in every way Every edge and curve of your body I am truly, deeply and madly In love with every piece of you Paint my dreams with your purest hue And as the lamplight dims, our moment in the dark Comes to light up the brightest spark Eyes closed, with only hearts speaking Inside our chest brimming With every warmth of being Found in a place like the heavens above And wrapped around our greatest love

Miles of asphalt stitched together Often begged for resignation Should I stop from going further And find a new destination? The roads are dull, sad and lonely Sometimes frozen in the night's deep Under starlight shining dimly And yet no morning sun to reap

Threads of fates are seldom woven Unless worlds are told to collide A map to you I am given A secret that stars cannot hide

Without a warning nor a thought Some people are drawn only once Right to your doorstep I am brought Many could happen in one chance

I closed my fist and asked the wood “If now, I must knock on this door Would I be greeted warm and good And be welcomed unlike before?”

Among the gifts any would wish With you, I want a life to spend Though journeys take long to finish All will be worthwhile in the end

The lonesome years will come to pass So do the pain and misery For in your eyes I found solace And a home of serenity

Under the vast roof of the sky I will watch a new beginning And I’m certain the stars up high Would all be glad and rejoicing

The moment I saw you I knew I’ve seen those eyes before That resolute gaze of iron-grey hue With my name to call for

Amidst the chatter and clamor of the crowd My own failed to call yours aloud For I have known not one letter Of your name, dear stranger

If I would tell what I have seen  What speaks for me is the word “night” For it greets with a dark and nebulous grin But not with the weight of fright

I caught a glimpse of colors bursting somewhere A glimpse of splendors dancing fair Inside of you, all is hidden unknowingly But all remains far from me

A vision came to my mind Everything melted away Even my past seem to fall behind And I just wish for this moment to stay

What if it’s only you and me Who are bound to drift perennially Together through time and space Until the end of our days?

Or what if it’s also a fragment Of something rare and beautiful But only in another life, it’s permanent And only there, it’s truthful?

Even if I ask the winds to carry my prayers I think I might not truly find the answers And all that’s left for me to do Is to hope you feel it too

Yet in a world like ours No other tale is to be told But one that is written by the stars Where true romance will never unfold

And all is just as saccharine as fiction With broken and unfinished narration A beautiful story of everything that could be But a page blank and empty in this sort of reality

"A Festival for the Broken-Hearted”

  A quarter after six in the evening, a white sedan arrives at a waterfront. There, hundreds of families are milling around, enjoying the modest breeze of January. Child-friendly rides are in regular operation. Vendors are selling popcorn, balloons and an assortment of toys in vivid red and white stands. Game stalls are also found scattered in the open. 

   Somewhere in the middle, a technical team is busy assembling a stage for some sort of band performance. It would certainly bring delight to anyone who would see such a boisterous place, overflowing with festive activities and untrammeled merriment. 

   But for some, it’s the closest place to shun their thoughts with noise.

  “Late as usual.” A young lady named Sierra remarks dryly. Her eyes emotionless and static.

  “Not bad, isn’t it? Ten minutes earlier than last time!” Beams a man as he wipes the sweat on his face with a handkerchief.

  Sierra turned sharply to the man, with a stare so piercing, it made him uneasy. Looking at her eyes, she must’ve been lost in sorrow for days.

  “Is it not always the case? Franco?” Her tears are threatening to flow any moment now.

  “I-I’m sorry, I’ll try to make it up to you.” A fretful look flashes on Franco’s face.

  Unconvinced, Sierra goes back to amusing herself with the distant horizon. It has been a month since the two had spoken to each other. 

   Around them, children are playing. Near an ice cream cart, a little girl of about 5 years buys a vanilla soft serve, along with a little boy, some inches taller than her. When they leave, the girl looks distractedly at a balloon stand. She doesn’t notice her ice cream falling from its cone. Finding it splattered on the ground, she grabs it with her small hands and puts it back. But the boy takes the cone and throws it in the garbage bin. The girl cries pitifully but the boy gives her his ice cream and she stops sobbing. 

   An impenetrable silence bridges the channel between Sierra and Franco. But with much concern, Franco revives the conversation. 

   “Do you think I’m boring?” He knows the answer might horrify him, but he needs to hear the words to find rest from his racing mind.

   Sierra’s eyes close, and her gaze found the concrete floor as she opens them.

   “Have you ever thought about the end of this tunnel?” Sierra’s eyes are weary.

   “If you imagine a tunnel, you would only see darkness upon entering. Your senses will crave for some light, of course. But there’s the sky, and we’re outside aren’t we?” Franco lightens the mood.

   There’s no change of expression on Sierra’s face.

   “But, on a serious note, no. Because endings don’t exist as long as you live in the story.” 

   Somewhat inflamed, Sierra says, “And if there’s only a few chapters left? What do you think will happen to the characters?” 

  “They’ll find a way to begin a sequel.”

   Something behind Sierra catches Franco’s attention. “Wait for me here. Don’t leave.” Then he darts away.

   Her gaze follows him. He goes to a food stall to buy a pair of pink cotton candies, a tray of nachos and two bottles of soft drinks. From a gift shop, a stuffed bear holding a flaming red heart attracts him. He buys the toy before going back.

   Franco spots an unoccupied bench nearby and calls for her, “Hey, my sweet Sierra! We can sit over there, come on!”

   They both sit quietly. Franco offers the food to Sierra but she only gives it with a cold stare. He’s crunching loudly, as though to annoy her, for which he is quite successful. Sierra glowers at him but somehow manages a smile while her fingers are fishing some nachos. 

  The sun nearly touches the edge of the ocean. But the crowd still thickens by the minute. At the center, more and more people are swarming as the stage is approaching complete erection.

   Franco pulls out the stuffed animal from the gift box, and he says to Sierra, “If you won’t take my apology, would you perhaps, listen to my new friend here?”

   He changes his voice.   

   “Hello, miss! Can I take your hand, please?” He imitates a young girl’s irresistible voice. But Sierra looks at him incredulously. Franco frowns, so she holds the bear’s paw with her right hand, which he wraps around his left. 

   “Would you please adopt me and take care of me? I swear I’d be a good boy. I know this guy here is a jerk,” Franco yanks the bear’s hands toward himself, as if to fend him away. “that is quite obvious with his impishness and lame jokes, but do you know he loves you very much? And I can love you as much as he does!” 

   Sierra bursts in laughter, revealing her smile and gleaming teeth, as beautiful as the moon, as sweet as honey, as tender as love itself. 

   “Why, of course, young one. Aren’t you the most adorable bear out there?” She says in a gentle, earnest tone.

   “But this, I’m too certain to know, you are the most adorable person out there! Not to mention the most beautiful!” Franco accentuates with a glint of contentment in his eyes.

   A warm smile crosses Sierra’s face. For a short-lived breath in time, the electricity of their eyes recharges the connection they might have lost. A thousand words are being told through that stare, and, as it turns out, it is enough to understand that nothing could get any better than coming back to the arms of love. 

   “And nobody knows you better than he does.” Franco continues.

   But the bitterness of truth invades the sweetness of the moment and breaches its veil. 

   “You do know, but I don’t think you understand me.” Sierra mumbled.

   Confused at most, Franco asked, “I don’t?”

   She stands upright and said, “I just don’t see the point of it all. There are better things that deserve our time, better than something aimless, vague and immensely variable.”

   “Variable? But isn’t everything variable? We can never be sure of what unfolds next as we the turn the pages of our book. We can never figure out where things will lead no matter how keen and measured we are in observing the roads we’re taking. All we have to do is to believe it will work out.”

   “Tell me how am I supposed to do that? If we keep fighting over things that should have consolidated our relationship? And I’m not sure anymore if we should call this a relationship, because even that is purely existential!”

   Downright bewildered, a surge of anger begins to stir inside of Franco. He swings his head sideways in disbelief.  

   “So what are you asking for?” He speaks as calmly as he could.

   “What am I asking for? Oh god!”

   “Sounds to me like you want us to be in a legal relationship with a nice emblazoned label on our foreheads to mark us boyfriend and girlfriend when you said it yourself that it is impossible to tell your family right now!”

   “That is absolutely the reason why I think it’s pointless! Our parents don’t recognize what we have! ”

   “But you know we could be patient to wait a few more years until we tell them, right? Unless you get so infested with your pet-peeves you forgot that I was one of them?”

   “No! That’s not it! We’re going against the current here, and I don’t think I could ever bear to go any further if we’ll never figure out what to do with the rest of our time!”

   They are beginning to draw attention to themselves as their voices grow into moderate screams. 

   “No! But you promised me! And it was only a few months before!”

   “Oh god! You and your childish whims!”

   “Childish? I believe that promises should be kept! And it was you who made it in the first place! Everything you say matters the most to me!”

   “That’s barely a promise! Oh god! Why can’t you just give it up so we can both move along?”

   “Wait, what do you mean give it up? No, I-”

   “JUST GIVE IT ALL UP!”

   A long, uncomfortable silence drowns their conversation. Only after a few minutes passed does Franco makes sense of Sierra’s last words.

   “So, do you really want to end it?”

   “I’m sorry.”

   “Why?”

   Both upset, their eyes loses contact with each other. The question remains unanswered in midair. They try to settle their gaze on something else to relieve themselves of discomposure. 

   Near the promenade’s edge, a pair of mischievous boys are frolicking around. Having seen a stray puppy, they hold their toy swords in battle position and starts to brandish those at the poor animal. The puppy, trembling in fear, attempts to escape them, but gets hit in the head for each try. Meanwhile, a woman of about thirty walks nearby and seems to have been looking for someone. She spots the boys and sees what they’re up to. She could’ve been their mother or guardian because she pinches their ears and scolds them but it is already impossible to hear with all the noise in place. 

   Franco holds Sierra’s hands with much passion and sincerity, “I’m trying the best I could, Sierra. And if that isn’t enough still, I swear I would do anything you ask of me. I never wanted someone as much as I wanted you in my life. I have no other words to explain this, but, I love you. Please, I really do. Please be a permanent part of my life.”

   “But I don’t want to be a part of this. Not anymore. I’m sorry, Franco.”

   “But I love you. Give me this one chance.” Franco catches her gaze, and, without hesitance nor any concern of people watching them, kneels on the ground and closes his eyes as though he is about to recite the most solemn prayer he has ever made. 

   “Stand up, don’t make a scene.” 

   “Please?” 

   At the central plaza, music starts to wind its way from the large speakers to the wide unmasked sky. The crowd has grown larger since the last half-hour.

   A subtle risk for Franco, he invites Sierra to come closer to the stage. The emcee introduces the sponsors, the organizers and the line-up of the bands. 

  The first band opens the concert with a full-blown pop song which energized the crowd and got everyone jumping to their feet.

   Franco shouts and nudges Sierra. “It’s fun, isn’t it?”

   Sierra stands there wearing a frown. 

   “Feel this moment, let the music fill you up.”

   “Yeah. I might.”

   The first band plays a couple of electro-pop songs before the second one comes to the stage. The following band is set to perform indie music.

   During one of the slow-tempo songs, Franco faces Sierra and takes both of her hands. Gradually, his eyes fall to a distant universe as his lips are sensing her’s in the sporadic darkness. Until, at last, they met in the moment’s most intimate second. There is no music playing, but only one that their hearts has written and engraved into each other’s stars.

   Love, beyond any circumstances, is still love.

   When the daze left their eyes, they both wake in the sound of the band playing an emotionally-touching song. 

   Sierra manages a genuine smile that can melt hearts. True as it can be, but her eyes are screaming freedom. She wants to leave. But Franco holds her tight, never wanting to let go. She shrugs and finally, her tears fill the emptiness of her words. 

   “I loved you. But, I’m sorry.”

   The noise booming everywhere softens to a dead, impregnable silence to Franco’s ears as he watch Sierra squeeze her way through the crowd, occasionally getting bumped by someone who’s lost in the concert’s pleasure. 

   When he makes it out of the last line of concert-goers, Franco sees Sierra scurrying towards the parking area. He initially thought that she’s after his car, but, shockingly, she enters the car next to his. A black, glossy sedan, looking fresh from the showroom, perhaps. Wondering who drives the car, he sees a man with a smoke on his mouth. 

   Sierra, on the other hand, is oblivious of Franco’s presence and kisses the man as if to tell him to bring the engines back to life. He stares at them right until the windows closed and the car speeds away. 

   Lost in thought, Franco looks back at the live performance. The current artist sings a ballad fit for his shattered heart. Mingling back to the crowd, he loses himself in the midst of several other souls resonating in the music’s pure emotion. 

Remember the days when we used to watch the ocean

Admiring the turquoise hue of the roaring waves

Before we even knew that our hearts would beat as one

While bathing in the sun that our skin craves?

 The tide washes the sand off my feet

I remember the time it crashes over me

Miles away where my childhood days greet

‘Til it brought me to you to share this serenity

 Scared of diving in, I once thought you are the weight

Chained 'round my neck and my freedom

I begin to swim deep, but long did I wait

'Til I sink near the deepest bottom

 I thought you were the reason I’m drowning under

But it was you who pulled me from the ocean’s floor

I found that you’re the vessel above the water

Carrying me safely, back to the shore

Another day is about to end, but nothing monumental really occurred to me this morning. In fact, I’m casually conditioning myself to sleep.

Then I saw her, moving across the television monitor. 

She’s absolutely real and human but physically apart from the fragrance of velvet roses cascading with my fluid words. I’m irrefutably certain she’s cities away from where I sit bedazzled by her profound litheness and magnificence. But nowhere will I deny myself of the encouragement of faith’s abrupt ignition which, I think, emanated from the subtlety of my mind’s abstraction and aimlessness.

Oh man, she breaks my heart, but not plaintively. Not painfully. No. She breaks it fiercely, fearfully and fervidly with her unrivaled boldness strapped tight in fast momentum. She leaves the chambers of my heart into a thousand hollow caves but she turns it rather into a freshly-forged house of steel for my delicate emotions. 

Which I think is where I am suddenly thrown into the field of courage and managed to pick one sword for myself. Suddenly, I feel braver than I have ever been. I feel myself growing indestructibly poised and exuberantly confident in starting a pursuit like never before. 

The pursuit with which the prize is the unabridged atlas of each portion of her interstellar grandiose, from atoms to planets and the source of her astral benevolence, her sun-like warmth, her grass-scented kindness.

There is a spark of unbeknownst hope. A comet’s visit across a stale, unexciting night, illuminating the stark fingers of trees and eerily motionless silhouette of houses. The roof protecting me must have left a few moments ago. Perhaps it disintegrated along with my blood-sucking sorrows. But I am still here, wide-awake, dreaming with a head open to the roof of the sky instead. 

Oh man, despite being projected so far off into the outer boundaries of the universe, I could feel her close as the moon to the Earth. Our skin had never met, no, not in the slightest electricity of a nudge or the wide-eyed shock of an unwary touch. Still, my eyes, if not hers, deliver a compelling speech of recognition to her. But I must say that it sounded like a heartfelt ode to me. 

She’s right there, and I can see her, clear as an untainted lake. With her gravity, she pulls the tides I’m holding inside of me. Her attraction, oh, so irresistibly strong, establishes herself to become the general of my heart’s fleet, commanding my feelings unconsciously to move where she does. She doesn’t know, and yet I still follow.

Lonely as it may seem, she’s this white ball of light mounted in my sky, graceful as the auroras of the north and south, dancing gaily and vividly atop mantles of snow. She’s my moon, whose pitch-black mysteries I have yet to unravel, like a worshiper learning the rigidity of sacred rules by deciphering an ancient stone tablet.

She’s definitely far but she’s undeniably near as well. 

And I saw it. In disbelief, I had to close my eyes, but quickly did I open them before I miss the chance to see it again. 

Her smile. Oh man, what is this I am feeling? My veins turn to tracks, my blood into steam, and trains of jitters arrive inside the marrow of my bones

Nevertheless, I am fearing nothing. But I’m scared my scaffold reduces into a flimsy tent. 

It was her almond smile. I don’t know, but the first metaphor that came to my mind is almond. My mouth finds it delightful to chew its sweetness. And the addition of an indulgent chocolate brings just as much.

It makes me hungry that I nearly wished I could taste the pink of her lips. But of course, that would be impetuous. 

Back to the smile, its smooth curve, it gesticulates the kindest, if not the most tender caress of an afternoon breeze, a humble prelude to dusk. 

Honestly, I want her so much. I really do. If I could only go straight into the television to ask her for a date, I will. My heart soars across a mellow cerulean dawn. To where it may land, I’m never truly certain. 

But I hope it would be someone as perfect as she is. 

The heart is the brain of the emotions.

But do you wonder why the heart is pumping your blood involuntarily?

Because it has a mind of its own.

So choose your mind.

One that can control every motion.

Or one that can control every emotion.

Stares vacant seam the void between “Stars falling, then there is nothing, hope is thin.” Under breaths a card has been dealt In ashes burned when it met the table’s felt

Any sport aren’t played by eyes alone Neither do electricity flow on its own No more do I see solar flares inside you Perhaps the sun has died there too

The blind doesn’t wish to live without sight Neither does a man walk without light The ground high and the cliff near I think I would rather stay here

Clashing swords horrible in the storm Again and again, they thought Rage is difficult to transform But if rocks can, it could too

Conflicts line as mine carts do Tracks beneath the earth sleeping Who wouldn’t dig deep enough? There is gold abundant for fault’s dressing

A nap the tired worker takes Idly in love with the lofty clouds But if the ground ever shakes None is awake when all collapses

Saunters casual with winds cool A delight of unloading my head full Dreams screaming wild But some aren’t just mild Across a sky of stars aligned Chances stride for us to find From the breath of the sea beside Would I be mad if she ever lied?

Behind you, I am the shadow watching Each step to Utopia where we must be living Others say a tree’s bark is often strong But the promenade runs long

Half-asleep after dusk Prodded by a downhearted tusk My brain I left floating in bubbles By now it could have seen more troubles

Words behind your tongue unspoken Your eyes wonder in brown of what could happen Though a chest sealed tight is a mystery Inside of mine, a heart reads knowingly

No one would have us exposed Would you mind if I leave the windows closed? I know you’ve been dreamin’ and dreamin’ You’ve been waitin’ and waitin’ But from where I've been I don’t want to be anyone Anymore So I said "Can I be the one You've been looking for?"

Heard this one before While knocking on her door But found some bricks From powdered walls I think Scattered, with roses trampled And letters crumpled On the floor I see her legs would spread there too Or perhaps on the bed if she allows me to I know she’s been dreamin’ and dreamin’ In the dark she’s been screamin’ and screamin’ Now she won’t be alone if I'd be there too

The curve of your neck The glare of your eyes shining in the speck Of intruding lights between the blinds Your shoulder lines They’re oh so fine I look at you, I lose my mind But for tonight, you're only mine Exclusively, intensely mine Are you not? The silence is here to hear your best But I’ll tell you what I could take off your dress And I'll do the rest

She bends her back Bones that mend seem to crack Again, but I’ll put them where hearts would stop To wait for the high to come down She twists her body as smoothly As she changes her mood immediately Like she twists her truths In words made of embers And breaths that smell like flowers Though I can’t walk on foot 'Cause a fire burns where I stood I'll take you to the clouds instead Where no one ever could She said, "I never thought You'd be this good."

You're lowering your voice Like some ghosts are prowling around Are you afraid they'll hear the sound Of crashing chests and pounding thighs While skins are bare? "Yeah, you like it there? Huh?" She said, "No, I want your fingers loose everywhere." And the wildest moan broke the quiet there

I will love her so bad If she would tell me so I'll cut her strings from threads unfinished Untangle them, untangle them Just as she wished Entangle her tongue ‘round me Deep down from the midst While she’s moving her head And when I'm back on top I'll come right in

I want to love her so bad I'll love her so bad I'll always bring her back To our holy realm While touchin' and kissin' And there's no more waitin' When all things turn bad Until she forgets the feelin' Of being sad

To the ceiling of my solitude, I gradually rose I saw you first and asked to come close Unlike any I’ve seen, your eyes are unreal But in this moment, all I want is to feel

Against raw, warm skin and silky fabric Lost fingers slivered through hair, black and thick Honey, for now, please leave all your fears For long are the hours before the sun hears

I heard the noise of night owls vanish The silence is ours to break as we wish If the curtains melt down, I don’t want reality to come ‘Cause you are the dream I never wished to wake up from 

Tendrils of hair cascading on shoulders Reignite the fire from the fading embers Can I bring you here with me where perfect things are seldom? ‘Cause you are the dream I never wished to wake up from