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Posts Tagged ‘drifting’

Sometimes,  I catch myself

wondering about you

on some moonless evenings

or misty mornings, drifting-

where have your pages brought you

on some ride in the wind

or tail of a comet’s end.

 

Somewhere

hidden beneath the shadow of stars

thinking

 

who’s reading you now.

Whose hands walk

the landscape of your soul.

A borrowed moment

inhaling your scent

and leaving fine, little circles

of fingerprints

much softer than mine.

 

Sorry if

I left you-

 

like letters I burn in the fireplace

while watching the ashes float in winter air

and fall sadly to the pavement. Like rain

 

remembering the sweet hours.

The blur images of innocence

and immortality you believed

then, but honestly, I realize how beautiful

it was

 

and I kept you

for awhile but good things never last.

I wonder

 

who’s reading you now,

whose mind can fathom

the deeper meaning of you.

Whose hands were

much cleaner than mine.

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A balloon hollow as air

I float miles farther away

no one could catch me.

I’m not here. Drifting

past the roofs of cities

and a maze of streets.

No one could see me now.

Lingering among clouds,

playing with dreams,

breathing a reality

of existing to survive.

In a skin I lived in

may not reveal who

a being- hidden within.

A face. A soul waiting

to be exhaled

and found again.

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Beyond the years and graying hairs

I am keeping in a book of dreams.

 

Like dried leaves and dried petals

flooding my way  to the mailbox,

togetherness is just one simple note

of words handwritten in a page.

 

And in my dreams I am trading places

of happy photographs and postcards.

Those promises that fill my head

I am dreaming still. Wondering

 

what’s like to be on the other side

traversing like pigeons. Drifting on

edifices, and parks, and monuments,

wide-eyed in surprise, collecting moments.

 

This morning, I waited for the postman

dropping another note to my mailbox.

And I’ll begin to step back in time

miles and miles away from yesterday.

 

Wishing and hoping memories can be

such like these,  just keeping souvenirs. 

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Fish crackers, salted

peanuts, chicharon

and Coke in can.

Five peso and fifty cent

fare to a jeepney ride.

I  inhale the pungent

breeze of the balmy bay.

As I watch the murky water

when the sun walks away,

its face hiding down.

 

The lamp post aglow

to your face, a pale moonlight.

Do you remember-

when I cuddle you

on this lonely bench? Together,

neophytes to tender love

leaning into each other, teeth

cracking watermelon seeds,

choc-nut, lukewarm Zesto

in tetra pack.

 

Do you remember-

Zagu and popsicles,

banana chips and chiz curls.

Love seems a butter

and salt to a popcorn.

A pink sugary cocoon

to a cotton candy. Sweet

melting, artificially

flavoring our infatuation.

Intertwined as alchemy.

 

The image of your smile,

glossed in tutti-frutti glitters

and sparkles like stars.

My tongue rolling

Halls mint, holding mild

mannered gasps of breath.

And there I was, restless

at your side, wondering.

How this kismet, a make-believe,

our promises, shall we keep?

 

Fish crackers, salted peanuts,

choc-nut and chicharon,

lukewarm Zesto in tetra pack.

Seven peso and fifty cent

worth of jeepney ride, I came.

Back  here in the bench

our memories of love

littered as wrappers.

Such is our promises we left

bobbing and drifting by the bay.

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