Pensive

As I hugged you with great aquiver, salty tears filled my eyes.

"Don't leave me please." I begged

"I won't but allow me some time."

You replied in the most mellifluous manner. I felt calm with your words but I still begged.

You pushed me like the greatest criminal caught red-handed. At that moment I wished that I'm the biggest convict for loving you ineffable as it seems. But things have changed with a single snap. And now I am in a hiraeth in a place to where I may have been moved; your heart. I am most nefarious to your mortal eyes, I know. But to any extent I will still save you my sincerest apology.

I'm sorry love. I did the worst. And no other words can desrcribe my grief of being the gultiest bastard alive. I hate feeling like a somnambulist whenever we're walking, you were my best dream, so please don't try to wake me up. If sleep walking is how I'll be with you, then I'll do it even in a thousand mile. I hope things in our epoch hadn't been destroyed by my stupid mistake. I will make it up to you, I promise.

"I love you." I muttered in my sonorious flat noted voice.

But you failed to reply by the least. I guess you're still hurt by what I did. I'll let you cool down for whatever time you need. But please don't ever leave me hanging. If it's by serendipity that you give me a chance, then I'll pray for that one shot of winning you back. I am not faithful. But that doesn't mean that I fell in limerence with another. You're still my better half.

As I sit here watching you from a distance, I can't seem to hear anything but the bombinate of mockings telling me how stupid I am for letting you down. You may not believe me right now, but baby I loved you in the most ethereal way I know. I bet someone who loves like this should be illicit.

I 'm sorry baby. And I will continue to utter those petty words until the whole region is covered with petrichor. It's currently raining from my insides. And I'm wishing a lot for it to stop. I need your iridescent version. Please be my brightest again?

Here's an epiphany. I realized now that when someone makes you feel this way, you shouldn't hurt them. You should always make sure that you don't let them go.

It's funny how it felt really nice being just supine next to you, just this morning. But now we're like two complete strangers-no, friends. And you know I don't want friends, I want us. Now I'm blinded. All my senses are blinded with supreme luminescence. I'm lonely. And alone. I want my solitude back, ours-I mean. I hope I get you back by the time Aurora comes. Because I can't manage to continue being like this.

Remember baby? We're the couple of syzygy. We're the greatest phosphenes alive. I wish for your oblivion, but that can't happen. You can't forget something like that. I can't promise you with the complete erasure of what I did, but I'll do my best to replace them with better ones. Ones where I am not related into being a scumbag. This may or may not be ephemeral. We'll get back. You're mad. And your incandescent body reflects.

Now this is the denouement of my fault. Blame me for everything and I will just let my guard down. I am wrong. I'm a bookworm in a state of vellichor. You're my library.

"I love you. Please take me back." I thought in eloquence.

I'm defenestrating right now. I may not give you the happiness to as winning to your favorite sport. But please, I want to give you the sonder of what I can improve in the next chapter.

I'm still your prince. I was never not.

I love you and I'm sorry. This is my sincerest.

Dumbstruck

And with one little thought, it hit me.

Whatever happened to the boy who once dreamed of owning an Olympic sized pool filled with nothing but plastic balls? Whatever happened to the boy who constantly rants and complains about not getting the issue of his favorite magazine? Whatever happened to the nerdy little lad who's too eager to finish all the books in his Encyclopedia set? I remember seeing him picking up two giant buckets of Lego and pouring them on his puzzle mats, ready for another creative session with tiny blocks. Where is this creative boy who slacks most of his days with doing artsy things he learned after watching Art Shows on his favorite kid's channel? He's been lost for quite some time now. The memory of him playing his Game boy console is still as fresh as the dews of some mornings of December. Old photographs can be seen with him opening a large present for his seventh revolution from the sun, as if it was pure heaven in sight for him. He used to believe that everything will fall into their down right places just like his blocks of Lego. He used to live a life awfully different from where he is now. He used to have a simple life. He used to be just one rascal amongst the other children in scarlet shorts. He used to enjoy what he has, but later demands for a little more-typical of a child. He used to think that life is merely a series of things that will pass him by. He was never careful, never a hesitant bud, he was never silent. He dreamed of things quite childish but stands to its grounds until the very end. But now he misses what he was. Now he can't be what he was.

But things are not supposed to remain to what they were. Things, as well as life is a constant revolution. I realize now where that poor boy could be. He didn't leave, nor stray. He just grew. And that's how nature makes you better. If not better, then at least new. Now he sees, it wasn't so bad after all. He changed.

Maw

"Di ka pa kumakain? Kain ka na."

"Uuwi ka na? Ayaw mo sumabay sa kapatid mo?"

"Ba't di mo inubos yan?"

I hate it when my mother exactly knows how I'm feeling at any moment of my existence. As I stepped out of our shop awhile ago, I can hear my main woman (Well, not exactly. But I'm pretty sure that Mom will try to open up something tho) say "Siguro may problema nanaman." That's the both cruel and wonderful thing about mothers. It's that they have that incomparable instinct of knowing when their children is going in to something tough. Since my mom is not an exception to that instinct, I hate her for having to know me that well.

Long face, smeared stares, silence, and an uncomfortable posture are qualities you'll able to spot at me whenever I'm not on my cloudest nines. It may be easy for some to cross out these things but undeniably my mother will outrace you at saying when exactly I'm not okay. That is how she works, if there's anything faster than light, I'll be betting for my mother.

But do you know what is far more vicious  than her actually memorizing every single cell and nerve throughout my body? It is that feeling of wanting to tell her exactly everything and wanting to hear her respond and try to sort out my problems-more specifically to sort my life now. But something invisible is actually keeping my mouth shut, leaving us in a state of suspended agony of not being open. But that will forever be okay. Because that's how my Mom and I operates. I'm guessing that my Mom is probably trying to send me something through brain waves and genial gestures. And the message is that: 

"Anak, wag kang matakot sabihin sakin ang kahit ano. Maiintindihan kita, kumpara man kanino. Nandito naman kasi ako, bakit ka ba nahihiya? Kahit tama ka o mali ka man, di kita kayang makitang ganyan. Dinadala ko rin yan. Diba best friend mo pa nga ako?"

And whenever my Mother and I exchange glances of unbalanced thoughts, I would always try to hypothetically shout and try to echo every single word. Then it shall be followed with the nostalgia of Mother's sweet embrace I dreamt for about eighteen years.

Note: She never hugged me, because she always exclaimed that I am strong enough.

And with that out of my mind, I'm now completely fine for at least 48 hours. Thanks Mom and I love you.