Dear Lonely Lover

Dear lonely lover,

It is sad to know you are sad but some lessons are only learnt through tears. Know that the tears you shed now will not be wasted as you promise yourself to learn from it.The loneliness will eventually fade and you will be at peace with yourself.

XoXo,

Day 4 - The clarification

And so it was, it's just me. It was withered to something beyond repair.
When you've given all and even borrowed some and it still wasn't enough what do you do?
She and I are no longer trying to be an "us". We are on our own journeys to rediscover "the self".
It is a journey we cannot make holding hands.

It ended in the same manner it began. Abruptly. My sadness has turned into a deep sorrow.
What am I to do with the sorrow? How am I to knead this emotion that seems as  bottomless as the pit of eternity into becoming an overflowing fountain of inspiration. I miss her beyond reason.

I am petrified of the impending future because I'm clueless about what I'm suppose to do next. I've always been somebody's something for so long, I've forgotten how it is to just be with myself and not feel alone.

Ready For Surrender

Sitting on the paper thin edge of my sanity

My fear balancing me on the blade

I am about to surrender into the fall

Following the white rabbit

I will land somewhere, a parallel place

The usual familiars all redefined

All rules rewritten

As would I

My heart dismantled, expelled as a tear from her eyes

Exploding on soft lips laced with goodbye 

The far flung pieces journey to reunite in eyes clear of distortion

Without expectation

Only celebrations as her as she is

Those eyes

Her own

Day 1 - Limbo

Still in shock.The wheel of life turned.
Breathing is like taking a whiff of chili being fried in a pan
A full deep breath is impossible.
There's this beating in my chest that feels like a truck is about to rip through it.

Ex-lover

Even though we’ve gone our separate ways 

And ended our song of verses lacking rhyme

When retold I’d still begin the story like a fairy tale
Start with once upon a time

You made me believe in the miracle of love

Made me plan a forever like a gift from above

Right now we are really talking

My calls you still can’t take

But after time heals this aching

We’ll start another story of a different fate

One that rhymes, one with lyric
One that never ends

A story of how two lovers fell apart
But still found forever by being friends.

She - cowritten

a

Pic by: Eunice Aquino

Molding her hand into mine easily
She kisses me passionately
Making me feel more
Than anyone has before


And by the softness of that woman's lips
My soul is resuscitated
All heaviness is lifted
The chagrin wiped clean




Indeed there is no taste sweeter
No arms stronger
No scent more delicate
Than the one I call "mine"


She becomes the weakness
That gives me the strength to own her
She becomes the person who makes me strong
Strong enough to admit sometimes I am weak


In her eyes I found the cure for an ailing soul
And the missing pieces of my broken heart
She totally completes me
By loving me COMPLETELY


I will never be ashamed or hide this truth
For when I do I hide the best part of me
There's no hiding it anyway
My smile is brighter, my eyes are lighter
I turn into a writer when she walks into the room


This was a poem formed on twitter with @MzEmilyK
For more please visit http://bit.ly/32uQPz aka "Savi"

Two Together

I lay here with you,
Whole but completely dismantled.
Where do you start and I begin?
In bed as tangled souls.
We are strength and grace together.
Not one of each but two of both.
As one, together as might and mercy.

Answer in Kisses

Impatiently waiting for her to get ready,
Puffing away on my final cigarette,contemplating on whether I should talk to her. 
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make room in my head for thoughts other than unanswerable questions. 
The bedroom door opens.
She’s finally ready to go. "Smoking again?" She said with a little pout.
I smiled and said, “Yes!” in a flat tone and almost whispering. 
I stood and reached out for the keys hanging on top of the light switch holding the I door open for her. 
She looked at me tenderly as she brushed passed my shoulders, right before I closed the door behind us. 
I didn’t know what to make of that look. 
In the car, I contemplated.  
A bottleneck of words in my mouth for the oh-so-many things I want to say but couldn't. 
She kissed my mouth full of questions. 
I suddenly feel ashamed. 
Before she came home from work, I packed and left without a word.
Neither of us needed an explanation. 
There was nothing left to say or save.

Sleep with me

Here we are again
You almost asleep, soft as a tear
Here we are again
Me half-sleepy, cradling you, right now, right here

In the solace of the silent corner
Of the home that we have built
I'd place us on the window sill
And look at the earth's oceanic quilt

The sea sings you a lullaby
And she also sings for me
sleep little baby,
water all still
sleep little baby
the "now" bowl a-fill

Sleep...

Sleep...

Asleep...

Together on the window sill

Spiderwebs and lies

A strand of doubt
A string of hesitation
Braided together with straws of hope
Knitted in patterns
Every lie and empty promise

A spider web glistening
Stuck in the forgotten tree
In a forgotten corner in my head
Near the suitcase
Filled with my skeletons

A net of drama
Heavy with it's prey
Beads of tears
Different sizes
Different tastes

Fingers of honesty
Tug on each string
Drawing straws of hope
The web of uncertainty now comes undone

The glistening pearls fall as rain
Watering bones of fingers
That grow nevermore

Raped pillow

My pillow lay silent, the lights all dim
I gently placed it where your face would have been

I use my fingers to draw your lips
Tracing your eyes and your cute nose's tip

I breathe deep the spot where you neck would have been
Where I would have found your perfumed skin

I close my eyes and gather the sheets
A poor excuse for your body's heat.

Me and my make shift "you" in bed
Me wishing it were you instead.

*** I dedicate this poem to all the molested pillows and to the lonely lovers who soiled them. hehehe

The moth and the flame

It was like looking at a page of “Where’s Wally?” Only in that sea of people, everything except her was Grey.

I chose to be the flame instead of the moth, so I sat at the bar and thought of things I were to say.

I stared at her a long time, certain I’d reel her in with just one look.

And so it happened by the book, one look was all it took.

She sat on the empty stool beside me and yelled to John, the bar keep, "Another glass of wine."

I said, “I got it John. I’ll get the lady her drink as I too need to refill mine.”

From behind the bar counter I muttered “You look like someone who’d like champagne instead."

She laughed , smiled, flipped her hair and gently nodded her head.

“Well then follow me madam the good stuff is in the cellar.” I said

Trying hard not to tumble on my words and keep from turning red.

Finally we arrived in the wine cellar in the slowest "quick minute or two."

I instructed her, "Pick the bottle with the red ribbon round it’s neck that I specially tied for you."

I loved watching her walk and strut her stuff like that.

My hands wished they were touching what my eyes were looking at.

As she walked back, I flashed a smile and opened my mouth to say

“Hello very nice to meet you, my name is Midnight by the way.”

I popped the bottle open and realized I didn’t have a glass.

I also quickly realized there was a hand squeezing my ass.

She took the bottle, looked at me and then she took a sip.

Next thing I knew my eyes closed and her lip was on my lip.

Instinctively, I sipped champagne from her divine tasting lips.

While she groaned ever so lightly as I started grinding her with my hips.

We finally parted for a breath, she kissed my cheek and said

“I feel like I know you, know you from toe to head.”

We kissed a little more before going back outside to finish up the bubbly.

I sat next to her and as she spoke put my arm round her nonchalantly.

Her crossed legs towards me, palm on my thigh, she spoke of random things about her life.

I wasn't listening but knew right there and then, one day she’d be my wife.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” and I replied “Didn’t you say that you had a lass?!”

“I do but she’s doing the same thing tonight and on you I just can’t pass.”

“Alright but you should know I too have a lass,

The most beautiful creature with the most perfectly round face.” :-P (just kidding you get the point)

“Where is she then and what are you doing here with me?”

“Pretending to meet her for the first time on our anniversary!”

We laughed and kissed and held hands under the moon,

Knowing we had to go and leave for home soon.

“It was nice to flirt with you again” to my baby I then said

“It was my darling, now let’s go get reacquainted in bed.”

I turned her way and had to say had we only met tonight,

I still would have fallen in love with her underneath this moonlight.

You see, no matter how hard it is I try to pretend

I am the moth and you will always be the flame in the end.

Just Saying

i do not like the feeling i get when i dont know where you are or who you're with or where you're going. Is it obsession, maybe.

My Poetry

I use to be self concious of when you read my poems because you felt that it was too much, too intense, repetetive, redundant. Then I questioned why I felt bad when you said that. I felt you did not understand. I was frustrated that I could not share the emotion I had with anyone else. But then again we all have different tastes.

Poetry to me is melancholy, it is sadness, it is overwhelming emotion,it is drama repeated beautifully in several ways driving at the same point if only to emphasis the passion or the magnitutde of an experience at a specific point in time. It is nothing else outside of that. Poetry is passion, it is an explosion of something of some sort. It is that thing that spaces me out in the day when I see it happen. It is the thing that moves me to tears when I try to validate if it happened or if it ever happened or if it could happen at all. There is a poem in everything that commands my attention and evokes feeling. Genuine feelings not one of those Hallmark channel smiles or tears.

I find poetry in the movement of a ballerina's fingers when she reacher out to the spotlight as she stands on her toes.And you can see some tragedy of being starved for about ten years just so she could fit into that delicate mold that lets her be a graceful feather blown by the wind held together with soft rubber bones that make her as fluid as water.

I find poetry in the act of looking at my wife's lips and the total captivity I am in when I look and she lift's my chin to look into my eyes to tell me to not be so obviously in love with her. It is funny and tenderly painful.

There is poetry in everything, and I like to romance the mundane because I find a certain beauty in them. As we all know true beauty is rarely ever explicit. There is a cetain amount of digging and imagination involved.

3 am

Awake at three

Got up feeling thirsty.

Had a drink, a bite and a smoke

To sleep again I go... I hope

I'm a fish out of water

I feel now that you are far

What I wouldn't give to be just where you are

In thoughts, in dreams, in wishes I now fly

I can hop on the next gush of wind blowing by.

I can get off the next stop and parachute down

With the gentle drops of rain drizzling softly to ground

Closing my eyes as I fall towards the sand

On the soft padding of your lips I hope I do land

If only it were that simple to be where you are

We'd never spend a day apart

You from me never far