Balikan natin ang gabi.
Ang gabi ng iyong pagpili,
Ang pagpili sa paglimot,
Sa paglimot sa’ting mga sandali.

Balikan natin ang pagtalikod.
Sa iyong pag iwas sa bawat lingon.

Balikan natin ang pagpumiglas,
Sa iyong pagkalas,
Ikaw, ako.. Yung tayo’y nagwakas,
Yung akala ko’y walang wagas.

Balikan natin ang gabi,
Babalikan ko ang gabi,
Babalikan ko ang gabi,
Nang wala ka saking tabi.


Today, The Sweetest Line

TODAY I WILL write the sweetest line; I miss you so much that I hug the pillow hoping it was you.

Today I will write the sweetest line; I will do anything just to be there beside you.

Today I will write the sweetest lines; I love you, always –be it hurting. I have loved you yesterday and I do love you today. I will still love you tomorrow.

Today I will write the sweetest line; I love you more than I have loved you.

But today, you wrote the most hurtful line; I love.. someone else


[Inspired by, Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Line by Pablo Neruda]


COLD BREEZE came knocking,
Lingering through my skin.

I felt the weight of a sweater,
being wrapped around my shoulders.

The force of an arms, pulling me close.
A mere presence, radiating warmth.

There I was,
Oblivious to the cold..
Drown with your voice..

Times like these,
When coldness whispers.

I waited for the sweater
that never comes.


The Man in Red

The Man in Red

A thousands in that crowd, movements everywhere. With the speed of the train, faces would be unrecognizable

But through the ruck, with such speed of the train, my eyes darted on the man in red.

It was you.

Have I veered my head on the other side, have I blinked my eyes on a split second, it wouldn’t happen at all.

But it did. In that littlest bit of moment, it did.

That “one in a million possibility
and “strange things happen” moments really do exist.

It was so perfectly timed. You, being there at that certain moment
and my head veering at that certain moment.

It was so perfectly woven. You, standing right at that very spot and me, sitting at my very spot.

It was so perfectly put together. Who knew, it would be so perfect that I was led to believe in destiny and coincidences.

And right then, I uttered your name with a smile full of amazement for the perfection of it all. That littlest bit of that certain moment..

But perfection…
It doesn’t exist.

And You Are Called An Art

SHOULD HAVE written our story with pencil
Should have neither known charcoals nor crayons
Should have neither touched the canvass nor the brush
But I’ve used all of it anyway

Color pencils to oil pastels to spray paints
Hands to brushes and cottons and tissues and such
Every kind of it, to find real happiness and satisfaction

Our moments drawn with color pencils
Memories embossed with oil pastels
Even smudged with acrylic to further emphasize its beauty

Too colorful not to stare
Too beautiful not to grin
And too much emotion not to cry

I should have used a piece of paper instead
I should have used a pencil alone