morning dew

the sun hid behind the dark clouds

and so it rained this morning

the drops hugging the window

the wind, cold like a deep sigh of sorrow

my cheek, pressed against the glass

looking out, thinking our what was once was

fleeting like the morning dew

my hands grasping at the memories of you

vanishing the cold, unforgiving air

til there was none left but my lonely stare

my body slightly shivers and i hug myself

for there is no one else but me, in this dark gloomy morning

i linger, hoping the sadness dissipates

like the summer rain

 

 

scattered letters

by the window, there’s a box

covered in dust, sitting in silence

i reach for it, slightly holding back

afraid of what it might do

of what i might see

the key feels heavy in my pocket, like lead

like something that is dead

i took a step back, unsure of what’s next

summing up the courage to turn the key

afraid of what i might do

the afternoon sky quietly fades into sunset

the box, on my lap remains unopened

they key, now sweaty in my palm lay still

i smell the lacquered wood, the dust and the memories

i turn the key, creaking as i go

and the sun rosy as it was held its breath for me

letters, stacked upon each other

papers yellowed, like wisps of memories

came flooding through my consciousness

i steady myself, willing not to let the tears fall

i have hidden all of these deep in the crevices of my heart

i read them, like a eulogy, sending my emotions to the grave

and in every page, in every stroke, i see your face

and i remember, everything i remember

for the last time, i remember.

 

the guitar man

his guitar sits on a corner

the strings yearned to be strummed once more

to be touched by those loving hands

whose gift was like the voice of an angel

but his music ceased to be heard

his guitar would no longer be played

for he has been called by the maker

i remember his songs

the safety in his voice

and the joy, the joy he shared

the guitar man, that’s what i remember

like a faded photograph, etched in my memory

like beautiful poetry, written in the pages of eternity

the guitar man would no longer play for me

his voice, now a mere echo

but his music lives on forever

his melody is in my heart

so goodbye for now, my guitar man

i will see you again

singing with angels

 

 

 

 

 

updated!

my tagalog ‘short story’ has been updated. 🙂 click here.

new page!

check out my new page, my second lame attempt at fiction: Manila Steampunk. Read and comment. 🙂