Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Sunlit

I'll never get used to waking up next to you,
clothes on the carpet; your jeans, a faded blue.
Your smile, piercing through the still of the night,
and I'm sitting here, trying my best not to write.

But then it all comes back, triggering déjà vu;
the minute I met you, the moment I knew.
Your arms wrapped around me as if I'm home;
no longer on a stroll, a wander. I used to roam.

I put my hand on your chest so I can feel it;
that humble heart glowing in the dark (sunlit).
It doesn't speak but I can hear it talking,
or maybe it's just me, maybe I'm sleepwalking.

Softly we chat, serenaded by the projected stars.
For three years, we have been making memories: ours.
I close my eyes, and you don't think I see it, but I do.
You and me together for another ninety; they flew!

Friday, February 10, 2017

New Home

It took us five months - one, two, three, four, five;
two wild bees buzzing without their sugar hi-gh/ve.
Us two and the boxes and suitcases gathering dust;
we hear you, we get it, settling down is not a must.

What is, is riding a jeepney in Manila and its mundane,
on the thirty seventh floor after a fourteen hour plane.
What is, is you and me on our own private sandy beach,
driving through El Nido on a motorbike, a helmet each.

You and I, we tend to live like there's no tomorrow,
like the minutes and the hours are not for borrow.
Peter and Wendy in fictional, magical Neverland,
sucked into a vortex, up to the knees in quicksand.

You and I, we don't live like everybody else and that's alright by me;
life does not come with rules - we are, we are, we are free.
I love you, in the end that's all that matters.
Grab my hand, let's go home together.