Nameless Noun

there should exist a word to describe the longing for something despite the fact that you have not lost it, a feeling for something so strong that even a sip of his love you took just seconds ago becomes something you're lacking of for now, like feeling homesick the moment he lets you go from the warmth of his arms, even with his scent still lingering on your t-shirt, like how your brain craves for the softness of his kind words when they kiss your ears the moment he shuts up, or how the gaps between your fingers feel too empty when he lets go of your hand just to scratch his nose. there should exist a word to help you explain the situation.

"i miss you so much."

"but i'm here."

"i know."

Stay

i did, once upon a falling star, wish for a relationship with someone i could laugh with and at, the one who'd bring me to parks to enjoy the breeze in the midst of the busy buzz of the city, observing people and jokingly dub their silent thoughts about their lives out as our sneakers rest against the trunk of an oak tree we would lay down underneath. i did, in the middle of a night, raise my hands up high and pray for a man who'd see me, not pass my flaws, but at them, paying attention with great details and leave commentaries about how meaningful they are like they're scattered pieces of art, which form one I should, by now, have made peace with. i plant it in my mind, making a slide show i would hit the replay button over and over again for, about something that maybe even god has not yet have in store for me. everyone knows perfection is a lie, living only in books i've read and movies i've watched and talk about with my girl friends. so it did struck me when you came. rather than a dream come true, you have become a living nightmare, ghosting around each passing minutes, strengthening my fear of losing, waiting for a thing to go wrong along the way. now that i've known real perfection, how can i ever live without one once you're gone?

Snooze (i)

What's stopping you?

Good question. What's stopping me?

Nothing.

It was the comfort, the glimmering hope of a settlement, of peacefulness, of a home. It was the word "finally", the feeling of everything being enough kind, "finally"

Is it the insecurities?

Insecurities? Insecurities? Insecurities? The word echoed, gently knocking on my skull. Those fears I haven't felt for years had then been awakened. The feeling of being alone when everyone else is not, the feeling of being the one that is left out. But is it?

Maybe.

But is it really?

Or the confidence?

It's been so long, true, but have I not been living my life to the fullest still, all these times? I don't need those supports, I said, knocking the fears back to the very bottom of my mind. I am my own support system. So why bother searching?

Both, I think.

They jumped out of the pool of mud, clinging hard onto my head until they cooled down and finally made themselves a permanent souvenir. That was when I know, that once he leaves, he'll leave something ugly behind.

You should probably start again, then.

Just like that, the alarm started the annoying ring. And I snoozed. I snoozed. I snoozed.

Appendix

you never plan it to happen

neither to have it written

him, another stranger you met

once upon another dimension

them, rings that kept you awake at 2

when you should be ready by 7

effortless, almost

what was casual becomes constant

that becomes a routine

came in so often

and by then you knew

you were either blessed or screwed

but that didn't stop you, even

although he stayed like an appendix

which is worse than a mystery

he was there, nothing to be fixed

until it caused a slight misery

which absent, though brings no harm

leaves a mark after the surgery

his function, which remains untold

becomes the source of the worry

was he supposed to be

the end of the journey

or another lesson that

you have to carry?

but then, don't you think

you had enough of them already?

wasn't it time for you

to grab the present?

just like how his midnight laughter

brings the cotton candy sunset after

or how his morning greeting

becomes your lullaby

and his nonsense talking your anthem?

that was what you believed in

until what was once a routine

becomes casual

off of the schedule

and crossed from the usuals

fading back to level one

back to "every once in awhile"

they all have something in common

the cool breeze in a sunny day

three layers of blanket in a cold night

the crescent moon tattoo on your collar bone

him

things you wish would stay

clinging to your senses, to your sight

on your phone

him

pretty, but temporary

Worst Best Part

I met you

and after years of uncertainty

of a frightened heart

and a lonely soul

it begins to look easy

except words exchanges

are no better than
those of breaths

and then I start to think

whether or not it's me

you have fallen for

or am I just 

another friction of ideas

you made yourself.

The Long Aftermath

i

he traveled half way to meet me, and that was a start. he took me to his favorite book store in town, where we window-shopped over art books, drown ourselves in pretty book covers, discussed a theory about a cross-universe that should exist between the comics we grew up with, and argued on which, between harry potter and the wonderful world of ghibli, would make a better bed time story.

ii

we wandered around the city, losing sense of direction as we continued to laugh at the jokes we brought upon ourselves, our lives, and the people in it. then we just sat down, underneath a giant tree which name remains unknown for the both of us -it might have been an oak- observing the entire world as they continued to move, arrhythmical, but affecting one another, interestingly.

iii

I've always dreamed of a mindless dance in the middle of a busy town, exposed, yet feeling secluded at the same time, with no music accompanying but off tune hums of an old song my parents might have danced to. it was almost as if he could read pass my eyes and into my mind, he found the old dying thought somewhere in between my brain cells and decided to let me have it my way.

iv

there hasn't been any talk about the animals we'd want to be reborn as if we were given the chance to, or about the famous people whose actions and personalities changed the world for the better -those we'd love to meet- or the nightmares that follow us around even when we're awake, a part of our childhood that grows up together with us, darker than our own shadows.

v

but then again, most of the times, I don't even know if I want to know him better than I did you, nor I want him to read me better than you did me.

vi

"read me your poems," you said.

"I want to know how you feel when you wrote those words," you said. if only I knew that my nakedness would scare you away, I wouldn't say yes to that one damn request.

vii
trust me, love. I've tried. but liability is one loyal friend of mine, and it prefers having me suffer over the memories of you. so no, as much as I want, and have been trying to, this is not about him. yet