The Woman That She Is

This is a birthday dedication for my sis angie! check out her blog Travel Moments


The woman that she is spans a lifetime.
it goes beyond whispers of endings
and initiations of sweet beginnings.
there she was staring.
critical, with open heart and full of curiosity.
She finds happiness and she finds bliss.
In meaning, in knowledge in past mistakes.
Most of all, the woman that she is
hungers for the edge of of the cliff
and the three second death upon free falling.
She is a soul no world could contain
and no continent could satisfy.
She may be a burning fire, perfume and magic.
She is sunlight and dew,
soaring mountains and rippling the seas
With wanting and with doing
Hungry, thirsty for adventure
to understand people to taste delights and naught
of places far and here.
The woman that she is belongs to one and to herself.
She belongs to her passion and to her longing.

About Angels

And I’ve walked this dark path again.

The searchlights looms heavily as if vigilant

spotting me while I hide in the darkness inside.

While the heavy heart has wept and bled

and wished for death.

While I dug my own grave and the tears

are all seem unfair to turn out this moment.

Would I dare to let go?

While my past haunts this caged soul

inked in menace, stained by prying eyes.

you’ve wished for my death, I’ve wished it too.

But my life is not about a story of death.

this is a story about angels.

and even upon saying it, I could barely breath.

for the tears are alive

for my heart cries for their presence

I do not deserve it but threw their lives in mine.

this is a story of my angels.

how they’ve never given up on my darkness.

how they’ve fought my isolation.

how they’ve replenish my life temporarily with theirs

when I can barely hold on.

This is a story of the angels that clung to me and dried my tears.

and even at times made me laugh and killed the hurts for some time.

this one are for the angels that made me stop.

for the angels that never judged me and my past.

this one is for the angels that never saw me for my mistakes, my repeating mistakes.

but accepted me and saw some light in me that even I cannot see.

I would be forever thankful.

Forever thankful.


And Then We Grew Up

Then eternity, infinity doesn’t exist. Separation is not elusive but a corner away in the shadows.

There is something I realized today…

And then you grow up.

Could mean differently. In times when you see the narrow road.

And when you finally let go and look forward.

See, when we were young we feel and breath love differently. Ecstatic, possessive, elated kind of love. I think I like that. That sort of un-mediocre kind that sweeps you off your feet. What is this kind of love? I don’t know. But isn’t it the one when you get so angry you hate him but you suddenly looks into his smiling face and everything just fades away? Who knows. But if there’s one thing that this love creates, I think it’s eternity or the faith in it. Time stops and passes by unnoticed. And when you realized it’s gone, you too realize eternity is possible in seconds, in moments. And you could create endless eternities.

This love….

This love. It should never end. Right?

And then you grow up.

You get confused, you meet other guys or gals, you exist in a world beyond the two of you had. You discover dark pasts, seemingly unforgivable presents and bleak futures. You get jealous of others and you failed aimlessly at selflessness and empathy. Understanding miserably, not knowing and unconsciously being less confident of each other, more of yourself and your worth as a partner. Things get rough. Relationships given up on unprecedented assumptions and discretions. We became oblivious to our own love for we became conscious of our own desire to be happy. Where is the past, before this moment; that eternity that could seem to last? Happiness, memories and the desire to constantly stay in those memories blinds us.

And then you grow up.

Suddenly, love isn’t what it’s meant to be. Love isn’t what you think it was. Love hopelessly was in love as you bite the dust.

Everything is falling apart.

And then you grow up.

You realize the unfounded tears. You learn to fight for something you want. You don’t give up in your truth. You learn to let go. Of possession. Of eternity. Of loving love. You learn to trust. You learn to believe in distance, in time and in your capability to make it so. Most of all, you learn to be honest. Yesterday, you do not understand each other, you seem to love but get hurt all the time, you seem not to understand. How can we love someone we do not understand? How can we love someone that steals the words we long to say and makes us too afraid to say it?

Then you grew up.

And suddenly you see beyond the reaches of your eyes. Then you were braver enough to face him and tell what you really feel. Ah, I see. You were to be honest, and in the end, you both feel the same way. Then you understand. Then you let go of him but you keep him still. Go free and come back. But he never left.

Ah, I see. We grew up.

to the girl who couldn’t let go

here’s a poem to a girl I knew
Here’s a toast to the confusions that you can hardly let go.
be it beer, whiskey or scotch
here’s a cheer to your brilliant light.

and girl as your story is kept within your walls.
there’s a load of emotions waiting to crawl out
from the abyss of happiness, from the constraint of bitter pill
for the heart is full and the mouth could only speak one day
it’ll speak of love so full and new;
and when it does, let your courage grow.

here’s a story to a girl I knew.
do not stare too long along the walls,
do not keep wondering what could have been and
where it could be leading you.
You hold the future, the sweetness, the pain, the judgment.
ah, we’ll never know..
Unless we try.
Unless we try hard enough.
we never give up, right?

and at the end of our lives, awaits the story
we’ll pass beyond.
It may be a happy ending, it may not be.
But make your story beautiful. Make your story worth the while
let its message of love echoes among the mountains
and ripple the ocean waves; disturb the singing birds.
In the end let me say,
here is a story of a girl I knew.
Here is a story I would love to never let go.

Do Not Come When You Need Fixing

don’t come when you need fixing

don’t come when your heart is broken

and while it drowns in tears.

I am no angel. What about angels?

There are no wings that could make you soar

and fly you out of the darkness.

you have to give me up one day.

for I will leave you swimming in shadows of despair.

do not come when nails are not buried in your fractured bones

I am only a duck-taped pieces myself.

a walking hope of thin stitches.

My thread won’t hold your soul and head.

do not come when you need fixing.

I age with the moon, it appears and go every time and what’s left would be

the gravity and the grace that the tides obey.

I am a sunset.

I do not rise at all.

I look beyond and stare blankly at the edge of the world.

I am an otherness and careless selfish pride.

While I stumble in fear.

I cry for the times I was blind.

I wouldn’t see you.

You’d be left at the gutters.

I’d be rotting in hell.

And even the searchlights in the parking lots of hell

would not lead me all the way down.

Come though, for the midnight drinks,

the smoke and the music engorgement

of swollen indie songs and piano dreams.

like when violins cast a soulful melody I couldn’t understand.

Come though, for I have aspirins and xanax in my pockets.

we can gulp the atrocity

and face the ghosts.