Staring at the dreamcatcher hanging by the window

She clutched her chest

And drew a heavy sigh

Took in oxygen

Breathed out the pain

Those things were meant to fight bad dreams

But the one her eyes were laid on

Fought nothing at all

Instead it gave her something

The kind that sting

From the memories of him

Inspiration defined.

Some find inspiration in art. 

Others from someone they look up to. 

Me? From every thing that makes me feel something. 

Movies that made me cry buckets. 

Books that gave me the feeling of falling in love.
Of being in love. 

Songs that remind me of what has been. 

Bonfires and shooting stars. 

Things that make me feel sad, happy, angry, excited, hopeful, frightened, nocturnal.
Anything that changes the beat of my heart. 

Faster, slower, uneven beats. 

Any thing that lets me escape the dullness of life. 

Like watching the sky change from blue to a multitude of colors when the sun sets. 

Or the way peoples' eyes twinkle as fireworks light the night. 

I'd go from numb and flat to having a mind made of sparkles, 

overflowing with ideas I'd like to turn into reality. 

And maybe that's why I find it hard answering people.
Those who ask what inspires me. 

Not because I don't know. 

But because intangibility can be quite hard to explain and to grasp. 

Something the naked eye couldn't see. 

Our bare hands couldn't feel. 

Still I try. 

Day by day. 

Figuring out that one thing that inspires me the most. 

For now, I flourish on the littlest of things. 

Squeezing inspiration out of the most random ones to the last drop. 

And what inspired me to write this, you might ask? 

Let's just say it was something that made my heart stop for a second...

...and then raced it to a hundred miles per hour the next. 

Hello Stranger

It's been days and still you visited my dreams
Haunting me in my sleep
Leaving me silent at times
Whenever you cross my mind

I met you in the dark
Together for no more than a couple of minutes
Your face I barely saw
Your voice I barely heard
And yet my heart banged
Louder than the deafening tunes
People are dancing to.

Your name I couldn't remember
The shape of your lips slowly fading away in my memory
Still I'm amazed by how everything remains fresh.
The way your hand held mine longer than should be
The tingle on my skin when our bodies collided
My back to your chest
And my arm to yours.

Maybe it was tequila
Or the trippy lights
But one thing I'm sure
Is that I never felt this way before
Not to anyone
Especially not to someone I've just met.

So stranger,
I hope we meet again
Some place where I could see your face
Where I can hear your name and remember
Somewhere we could no longer just be strangers anymore.

Trapped

Sitting on a meadow,
I look up high,
Straight to the skies,
Blue white and gray,
A mixture of hope,
And brewing rain.

I look to my right,
Fuchsia purple and lime,
Colors I wished reflected my heart,
Lively and vibrant,
Opposite to the bars,
My soul is behind. 

The thirst for love
For somebody's hand in mine
That hug from behind
To sleep in somebody's arms

The feeling of emptiness
Of wanting to get hurt
To feel just anything
Than not feeling at all.

Yours and Mine

The way you like your morning coffee

The way you eat pancakes with tea

The way you get lost in a book

The way you know me with just one look

Those are your ways I know the best

And I have my own kept the deepest

It's the way I didn't squeeze your hand when you did mine

The way I flinch when you touch my spine

The way I look the other way when you stare

The way I ignore it when you care

Those are the ways I fight my best to turn away

The ways I try the hardest not to give it away

Ways dull and sorrowful

But the most painful?

It's the way I act like there's nothing

When your eyes tell me something

Because I wouldn't waste a decade of friendship

For something that we both might fall in too deep

They say don't look for it

It will come, they say

They say the wait is worth it

He'll be perfect, they say

I smile and shake my head

Nod and laugh instead

Because you don't have to be perfect

You just have to fit perfectly

In my imperfect life

And I, to yours. 

Struck

It took one second,
One heart beat,
One nod of your head.
You saw me after a year of silence,
Hands entwined with another man's,
You gave me a half-hearted smile,
While I notice your hand in her hand.

Us, watching the sunset,
Cuddling under a plaid blanket,
I remember it like yesterday,
And I am struck.
Because now as I stare,
The same arms that once protected me,
Are wrapped around another girl,
The same warmth that once made me feel loved,
Is the source of the smile on her face.

I am struck,
From the sudden pain in my chest.
I am struck,
For I never knew I still felt the same,
Until now that I'm looking at you again.
And I know from those eyes,
You feel the same as I am. 

The Silhouette

A shadow

A mystery to me

Him who does not have a face

A man whose touch I feel

While I'm asleep

Whispers and chuckles

I hear them clearly

Yet when I turn

A silhouette is all I see

Someone who does not exist

When my lids are wide open

A stranger in my dream

Could he be a lover from the future

Or a sign of illness

Or maybe a kind of longing

And dreaming is the only remedy. 

One drink at the club. That's all it takes these days.
No more sweet good night kisses or waking up to the smell of bacon.
No more icy hands entwined, bodies wrapped in a plaid blanket under the twinkling stars.
Or the sound of guitar strings strumming at night while he stares up at her as she memorizes the shape of his lips as he sang.

I am a bit saddened by the fact that I never heard people say, "I adore you".
Saddened that all I am left with are the words, "I love you".
Words that have become too vague or too meaningless.

My friends laugh when I sometimes get too cheesy. And sometimes I do too.
If they do it at me or with me, I'd never know.
But I like to care less and use my head for thinking instead.
Wonder really well if it's just me who's odd
Or has the world already just gone too shallow?

I dare you

Dye your hair purple,
Paint your lips green,
Break the mirror,
Never look at it again.
Scream until your throat hurts,
Dance until your chest burns.
Embrace the danger and fearlessness
Until you're finally limitless.

Disappoint everyone,
Your mother, your father,
Especially yourself.
Run away from the norm,
From all deemed acceptable,
Breathe and take off that stupid mask.
Let those tears fall down,
All the frustration out,
And that laugh brewing inside.

Make a stupid mistake,
Learn from that error.
Make another one.
And another.
And never stop.
Don't you ever dare to stop.

Take a chance,
A crazy second,
Then maybe,
Just a little,
You'd actually live,
And feel alive,
Even just for a while.

Screw You

She hates you for saying the worst things
At the best of times.
You look at her.
Say something funny,
Hurt her feelings,
Make her cry
In a cubicle with nobody's eyes.
You call it friendship.
She calls it bullshit.

She hates you for not seeing clearly.
For laughing genuinely
When really, she's not happy.
Minutes, days, months, went on.
And yet you remain to be clueless
Or heartless
As you continue to be numb
Or dumb.
She smiled only when you did
And die a little every time inside.

She hates you for making her feel.
Anger, a flutter in the chest, a tickle in her belly.
Things she never wanted to,
Things she never thought she ever would.
Hate you for making her feel again.
For that lit a fire,
A hope that has been forgotten long time ago.

Frustration. Confusion.
Until the mirror becomes a person,
Someone she talks to
Someone to tell honestly that
She hates you mostly because
As much as she wants to hate you,
She still can't help
But fall in love with you.

Possibilities

For as long as I could remember, I was never a believer of love at first sight. 

I always believed love has a process. I see friendship being the foundation only a fraction of it. Then there's trust, loyalty, honesty among the long list. And I cannot fathom how something as strong and as powerful as love could happen in a split second.

Still, I do wonder if one look could ever be enough...wonder about how long it really takes to fall in love with another person. The kind you can never fall out from. 

Is there an acquired length of time for two people in love to know each other before others would stop saying, "but you've just met"? To cancel out judgments?

Is there a mandatory number of days, weeks, or even years before the love between these people can be considered authentic? Something genuine?

That it isn't just simple attraction but a much profound emotion. Something that you couldn't put into words but only into actions. 

That it isn't just infatuation but an affection as deep as the oceans. As endless as the skies. A love so bright the sun would be jealous. 

There are 24 hours in a day. A length of time taken for granted by most. The amount of time one can pour into knowing another person in just one day. On the first day they saw each other. About his childhood dream. About her first nightmare. About the thing they both have in common. A total of 1,440 minutes that maybe, probably, is enough to ignite a spark.  

So maybe love at first sight can be slightly hard to happen.

Maybe something that is as foolish as it is magical will always just remain on the pages of a book.

But for now, I will try not to be a nonbeliever.

For the possibilities of life. And of love. 

After all, it is possible to learn more than a thousand things about one person in a day.

One thing for every minute of the day. 

Where are they

Where are the men who know of sacrifice? The ones who will walk on the side of the road. To protect you from unforeseen dangers. To surrender himself and keep you safe.

Where are the men who pick you up at your home? The one who also brings you back safely to the arms of your folks. Not the day after or at dawn. Those who respect your parents the same way you do if not more.

Where are the men who write on flower-scented papers? The one who expresses his raw emotions through words. Handwritten letters for the one he adores.

Where are the men who hold your hands? Gentle and firm at the same time. The one who is aware that women are not fragile but will seek to take care of you nonetheless.

Where are the men who make promises? Carved on a tree and kept forever. The one who struggles and yet continues to fight. For love. For you.

Where are the men who don't expect it on first dates? Or on the second. Even the third. Those who still believe it is a symbol of something else. Of something more.

Where are the men who still kisses on the hand? The one who shows admiration without aggression. Those who let their lips linger on your skin. To breathe in your scent. And leave your fingers with his.

Where are the men who look at you not as a woman? But more than flesh and bones. Those who do not look at all. But connects to you as his eyes pierce through your soul. Deep into your heart. To you as a whole. 

And so as we lay under the constellations in the night sky, a tangle of legs and sheets, of warm breath and half smiles, I knew from that moment we never needed words.

No more

She ran not because she wanted to take care of her body,
But for the sake of shrinking her body.
No, not for better sleep or glowing skin.
But for the thigh gap and protruding ribs.

She pretended to live healthily when in reality,
She did things farthest from what anyone can call "healthy".
Skipped until her legs fail.
Starved herself.
Drown in water.
Until it becomes too much.
Of too much pain.

Everything.
To be slender.
To be thin.
Such destructive things.
She did these not because she wanted to.
She did those to be accepted,
Sadly as a person.

Maybe society's to blame.
Or the boys and even the other girls.
Or maybe,
She's just too foolish or lame.

But someone better save that girl.
From the expectations. From the norm.
But most especially from herself.

If not,
I'm afraid,
That one day she'll just be no more.

To live

Everyday I see people doing the same thing they did yesterday—the same ones they will do tomorrow.  Then I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and stared back at myself only to realize that I am one of them.

Some find comfort in routine. I find it terrifying. Wondering what if one day I wake up and found myself doing the exact same thing I’ve been doing for the last five years or so.

Breathing but not living.

I have always feared not being able to live. To not do the things my heart tells me to. Crazy insane ones kept hidden inside. Free of judgment and conformity to society.

Like fitting my entire life in a bag on my back, leave the place of my roots, and start my conquest to the unknown. To search for something no one could ever know. Only to come back when it feels like the one left thing to do.

Having only a few months left before I turn 21, I knew I have to take action. But could it be possible to have such fear and at the same time be scared of taking the first step against it?

Because right now I am torn. Or maybe. Just too fearful to escape fear.

For a minute forgot about the steering wheel. Drawn away by the music the radio suddenly spilled. Guitar strings strumming. A melody of memories. Of yesterday. Of the year before. Suffocating yet lovely. To the ears. To the heart. Painful but sweet. Painful that sweet it remained. Sky the color of somebody's eyes. Stormy and gray. Haunting. Enticing. Another reminder of him. Of how they used to pierce through her. Gaze on a certain raindrop flowing down the windshield. Thought of something that once flowed down her cheek. In the darkness. In the shade.  

The love that could have been more

Give me, give me that love, I'll be waiting for you. And catch my hand, I'll be fighting for you. - Grouplove

What if you found someone you think is worth waiting for.
Someone who makes your knees shake with the curve of their lips
Or your heart swell from the scent of their skin...
Then that person asks you not to wait?
To prevent pain and heartaches. The kind that rip your soul.
Would you still take the risk and hold on?

If you would, how long can you wait for someone?
A day? A month? A year or two?
Will you be willing to entrust your heart to that person?
Or use that lame excuse, "to let go is to love"?

I guess you'll never know until that someone comes.
I haven't met mine yet.
And sometimes I wonder if I ever will.
But I do stare at the stars at night
Whenever they're bright enough,
Or when it's too dark outside.
Wishing that someday when the time is right,
And so is the person,
That I have the strength to wait.
Not out of desperation.
Not because of foolishness.
But simply because when the moment feels right,
And you're staring back at someone you know you'll love no less a decade from now,
Waiting for that person isn't stupidity.

Actually, it's not waiting at all.
Such a misconception that led people to give up.
Because they thought they were waiting.
When really, they were fighting.

For that person. For the love that could have been more. 

What If

What if I never figure it out?

What if I’m forever stuck in a rot?

What if I’m just breathing and not living?

What if life’s become a toxic routine?

What if I never find someone?

What if there’s just no one?

What if I never feel how it’s like to love?

What if I never feel how it’s like to be loved?

What if I stopped trying to feel alive?

What if I stopped feeling at all?

What if?