Saturday, March 26, 2011

The Silent Scream

a heart doesn't have to be broken to be fixed.
feelings don't have to be shuffled to be mixed.
sometimes you just have to let go of what you never really had,
even when tears start to ooze out and you want it really bad.

but the sweetness in his emerald eyes overthrew you,
and you talked all night long like he already knew you,
but that was now and this is then, a sad surreal omen.
because in the end, a dream is just a dream.

just like that heavy hopeful heart and its ridiculous silent scream.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


Those yellow wings, rapidly flapping to the violin strings of freedom, teased me. My days were numbered and I think he knew. He didn't ask, I said nothing, but he knew. And as his body brushed against the fast moving window, judging me because he had to, I smiled. And for the first time in a very long time, I meant it.

Because definitions are overrated. A carefully constructed sentence written in such a way so as to sound perfectly beautiful ends up being very unemotional. I know because I have been failing time and time again. Because words, powerful as they may be, pale in comparison to what you feel on the inside. Finding the heartfelt poetic phrases to describe that funny little feeling of lightheaded happiness remains understandably unreal. Much like the happily ever after of a prince and a princess after he clumsily climbs her generous golden hair. Because as much as I want to, sometimes you just can't.

Sometimes, and simply because it was meant to be this way, that rapidly flapping feeling inside your heart is the only definition worth embracing. The butterfly in your barefoot body asking you to live a little is hanging by a thread. Ignore it and it breaks.

Because the truth is, the consequence may be permanent, but the damage, well, that's only temporary.

If you ever get tired of the weak wingless butterfly inside of you,
remember the yellow wings of freedom you never really knew.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Foreign Emotions

this side of me you didn't know,
we waited too long for the flower to grow,
and now it's dead, and i'm still here,
soothing the empty with each tear.

the days we had were many,
the love we never really shared, uncanny,
i sometimes wish we had a tomorrow,
or a time machine we could steal or borrow.

but life's unpredictable, i know that now.
the trick is in living without knowing how.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

The Smile

Two lips alienated from each other. One Cupid's bow perpendicularly aligned to perfect taintless teeth. He smiles, and her heart, dancing to the sound of a slightly skipped beat, smiles with him. The room, darker than the night surrounding them, lights up. The six candles flicker. The world as she knew it, gone.

Oblivious to the spinning scenery around them, the back-and-forth smiling ritual continues. He slowly approaches. Her feet glued to the earthquake beneath her. Words do not even matter at this point. In this case, and only because this is an exception, words are merely an accessory. One we can all do without.

What happens next is open to the imagination, biased and prone to the typical fairytale disaster. The smiling prince is dead, and the smiling princess is, well, screwed. The end.

And if you were looking for an alternative ending, one without any pathetic pitfalls, too bad. That indestructible ship sailed and sunk a long time ago. And unlike popular belief, people did not survive.

In the meantime, the (fake) smiling ritual contracts are renewed. Signing off on those which aren't ( ), is the new Titanic of the century.

Good luck.