Do people even like poetry?

I was never good at it and never dwelled on it up until I was in college.

My cousin died of cancer at the age of 20. He was a second year nursing student back then, and he used to write beautiful poetry. He wrote about his classes, his experiences, even his sickness. He wrote about leukemia and how it managed to consume his body as time passed on.

I went to the same school he was in, and i didn’t really expect that poetry would become my medium after writing prose in elementary and high school. But I guess, it stuck because it was something that reminded me of him. It was something that I could say we had in common. It was… Kuya’s thing.

I’ve written almost 50 poems in the past five years, about love, lost, longing, school and whatnot. I don’t really let a lot of people read it because some are too personal. But isn’t it what writing is all about? Conveying an emotion, telling a story, exposing your roots?

📸 MarkE

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Part Two

I wish I wasn’t afraid to die

“I’m not afraid of death.
I blurted out
And I watched as his eyes widened
“I mean, I feel like I can die tomorrow
And be fine with it
He still didn’t say anything
I tried easing him into it
Talked to him about the thoughts
That have been barging in
No, i don’t want to die
But i’m not afraid to die
I made a lot of mistakes
I went through slopes and hills
I fell, I conquered– those bullshit
I loved and got heartbroken
But that’s life isn’t it?
It’s not like I was really giving up
But I think I’ve just had enough
Of the happiness and the laughter
And the dramas here and there
He shook his head
Trying to relax the muscles on his jaw
Clearly thinking I could be crazy
Thinking this girl across from him needed a shrink and not her junior
But he gave his thoughts, his mottos
And words he’d lived by and whatnot
He was religious, you can feel his faith
But I’m too stubborn, too indecisive
It wasn’t gonna be an argument
He didn’t even looked the part
So I went on and on
My mouth never ever shutting
But that pencil case caught the corner of my eye and broke the ice like a nutcracker
And I… paused

I don’t have to feel sorry.

I’m always going to be too much for people.

Too much to handle, too much to care for, too much to long for

I have baggage, I am heavy, I have all of these fucked up thoughts in my head

I have this sense of bipolar-ness in me that no one could understand

I can love you in a second and hate you by the time the minute is up

I can scribble your name over and over again

wishing for things to finally go as planned but I still find myself being scared

and I scurry and I run because that is what I am good at

I am good at leaving even when I didn’t really stay

I am good at pretending that I can be okay when I know I can’t

when I know I will fight the urge to feel sad yet long for it anyway

I am too much for people

I am too much for myself

I always want to impress those who couldn’t

I always want to be part of the crowd when I can’t

I’m too much, all at the same time

But maybe I don’t have to say sorry

Maybe I don’t have to feel bad or guilty or sad

maybe it’s okay to be like this because I always give my 110 percent

when others can’t even give atleast 1

Maybe it’s okay to chase after infinite things

it’s okay to fight and not fight for someone or something

Maybe it’s okay to be me

Because if people really love and care for you

They’d know you’re not too much

You’re just… okay

Walls unbroken.


He’s lucky, you know
I chase after him even if I don’t chase people any longer
When I stopped fighting for those who wouldn’t fight for me
When I told myself I’d never ever go for the uncertainty again
Yet here I am, I’m allowing myself to break those principles
Wanting to keep him here
Between two thin lines of our friendship
Both of us pretending we don’t know what I feel about him
And I guess this has to end
It has to end somehow
I have to distance myself from all of this
Before I start crashing again
I have to stop longing for his presence
And the comfort he brings
I have to let him go before it breaks my heart to do so

#4

I don’t miss you anymore
Not your smile, not your laugh
Not the late night talks
And the secrecy
I don’t miss hw we stare
At the open sea
At the moon that glimmers
On the surface
I don’t miss the stars
Watching over
Two lost souls
Parked too close to the edge
It lingers for one last touch
One last kiss
On and on and on
This went on
For months, for days
Why did I even stay?
When I should have left
Right from the beginning
When I should have known
I’d fall and shatter
I don’t miss the way
You made me feel unloved
And loved at the same time
I confused bullshit
From the truth
I don’t miss the words
That come out o your mouth
The reassurance that
You’d never leave
The way they did
I don’t miss the way
I loved you
We’re better off
I’m better off
She’s better off
That I don’t miss
you any longer.

Part One

I wish I didn’t feel lonely.

Hi—
How long has it been?
I don’t remember the last time we talked
No, not short conversations
but those that dive within
September? Was that it?
When we went out to study
And ended up having dinner
and gelato
When we walked from one place
to another
Just enjoying each other’s company

and now we’re back at square one
when loneliness struck and I needed
a friend
I needed to cry
And your place was the only place
I could go to at 11 pm

I had a few glasses of beer
Though it didn’t numb the emotions
It revved through my brain like an engine
It was alive, at that hour
I fought the urge to cry

But I coulnd’t hold it
and there I was
I knocked on your door
Waited for the tears to come spilling down
You asked, “what’s up?”
“Sorry.” Was what I replied.
“Sorry for barging in so late.”

I didn’t exactly know why I was sad
Maybe, it was me overthinking things again
My anxiety creeping in
Sliding past through the restraints
It knocked off all of the sunshine
And replaced it all with acid and dust

I sat down on the couch
Propped my feet up, hugging my legs towards my hoodie
And pondered on that crappy day
The crappy few days
And how I wished it all to go away

I couldn’t cry just yet
Some part of me was shy
To feel vulnerable, to feel exposed
You saw me as happy when all along
I was sadness wrapped up in a blanket

I wanted to utter something but I hesitated
“I can’t bring myself to cry because you’re here,
and I think it may or may not be a good thing”
I messaged you on facebook
And you broke the silence by laughing
And smiling; that smile of yours

“What happened?” you asked me
and as I started to explain why
water spilled down my eyes like a river
I was choking in my own tears
And you knew you couldn’t console me
No one could console me
I was whimpering like a child

You closed the door to lull the sound
And got a glass, filled it up with water
“Drink up.”
I was catching my own breath
As I gulped, I waited for myself to calm down

You didn’t say a word
For a minute; for two, for three
Until I wiped my tears on my hoodie
And sat across from you on the table
And I spoke up.

I don’t write poems anymore.

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Not for the guy I met in April
With the sideburns and a smile
I was naïve, it was exciting
To have locked unto his eyes
He was smart, he was charming
But he was blunt to my demise
and in the end, it really was nothing
but a girl’s first crush in a while

Continue reading “I don’t write poems anymore.”