My Muse

The night is my muse.

It always has been.

Words flow easily,

from pen to paper,

under the cover of darkness.

Burning the midnight oil,

when the moon is high and bright,

with a blanket of stars.

Whether the backdrop is a city skyline

or a bright sea of lights,

in the cover of darkness,

my muse sings sweetly.

Up on that pedestal,

this inky black sky

illuminated by the silver orb,

a soft glow without warmth,

this moon shines unperturbed.

As aloft as sweet cherubs,

it lends voice to my thoughts.

Transcribing whispered words,

the muse has set to be presented,

harsh ramblings of broken hearts and dashed dreams,

and soft sweet promises of love and hope.

The night is my muse,

inspiring emotions, setting hearts ablaze.

Back When I Thought I was Strong, 06 September 2012

I have never reached out to you because I was, I am, afraid of rejection. You were the one to call or send a message, and I was always ready to receive you. Open arms, heart on my sleeve, and listening ears. So why did I fall for you? It was not like you reciprocated the gestures as I wasn’t the one to seek your warmth. I can’t blame you for the injustice, the unfairness of it all. I knew what I was doing and what I was getting into. I can only ever hold myself accountable. More self-hatred and self-pity for me on this one.

Congratulations, by the way, you made me cry. Be proud! Not a lot can get me teary-eyed. I want to talk to you without anyone else, just so I can make heads or tails of it. However, it seems you’ve already got everything sorted out. Thank you for your kind consideration, hear the sarcasm, of my feelings.

How come when I’m the one who wants to talk, you won’t even bat an eyelash? How is it then that when you want to talk, I drop everything and go to you? I hate myself some more every time. I really hate myself for falling for you. I really, really, really ┬áhate myself. It isn’t fair.

It doesn’t help that I’ve already talked to several people. I wish I would just learn to clam up. Before, I never talked about anything with anyone… but because of you and these things between us, I can never stop myself from baring my heart out. Why do I always talk? I might as well die of humiliation. Why can’t the earth just swallow me whole?

It isn’t fair, is it? It never is.

Heartsick and Terrified, 20 August 2012

Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I’m missing you again. How the hell did you get this power over me? How can I be this much affected? It’s not fair. You don’t even notice my absence. Probably too happy to care. It is so unfair, for you to have this kind on hold on me when everything is so unclear.

I wish I can wipe away the haziness, like mist on a mirror. When did it get so deep, these feelings I have for you? I care a lot. I like you a lot, but, I don’t want to give it any more deeper meaning. It will be too painful if I acknowledge that this is something more.

I wish I can dismiss it as lust, but honestly, there is nothing lust-worthy about you. I wish I can label it as idolatry, but that would be crap. You do not have that much merit to be idolized. I wish I could brush if off as something platonic… although, it’s probably a little too late for that disregard. But I will tell you this, I will never admit it as something more as it would be too difficult to let go as it is to deny.

Confession of Fear in the Confusion, 10 July 2012

Dear God, what is wrong with me? I am so afraid. I feel his heart beating and his breathing. God, I am petrified. More so than the last time something like this happened. I am frightened. Yes, I am a coward and I think he is too. We are both scared to take the plunge. My hands are still shaking, slight tremors are visible as I write this in the early morning light. Dear God, I am afraid indeed. I don’t even know how I can bring it up again. Is what happened tonight supposed to remain in the shadows?

Lord God, please tell me. I am terrified. I don’t want to lose a wonderful friendship. But, is this a blessing from you? I wish it could just be easy. I know, though, that if I surrendered everything to you, it will be perfect. It will be alright. That is all I pray for.

But, dear God, I am still afraid; I really am. Please help me, dear Lord. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Be passive? Be aggressive? Nonchalant? Straightforward? My dear Father, please… please, help me.

Dear Lord God help me.

Books and Magic

Books are magical. You can get lost for hours and when you close the book, you struggle to find yourself in your reality. With great books, however, everytime you open them… it’s like being welcomed back home. Great and well-worn (or well read through) books are homes to us. The characters giving us warm hugs after days, weeks, months, or years of not seeing each other.

La Luna

In the darkness of the night,
The full moon beams brightly.
Wolves howl, calling to the goddess.
La Luna, bella luna.
Take flight, o fowls of knowledge.
Owls flutter by, hunting prey.
The moon goddess gives light,
Drives away the fright.
Canines bear their fangs,
Dripping crimson on the land.
La Luna, you witness all,
Bella Luna, no mere ball.
These lands whereupon you bless,
The creatures do not rest.
La Luna, bella luna,
Majestic goddess of the night.


Story and Music

You’re my sad story in six words.

Waking up without you beside me.

We never had a chance to explore what could have been. You and I could have failed majestically or we could’ve been exponentially wonderful together. We never will know.
Ours was a harmonious melody played at the start of a day. Nights with you was a cacophony of sounds, rustling leaves in the wind, chirping crickets, buzzing fireflies, and crackling fires on the hearth.
I would have been your lyricist but you found your muse. I never had a chance to sway you, you had written your own music. What could’ve been a majestic symphony remains a collection of music sheets under my tearstained pillow.

Forever and Never

Falling stars are burning bright,
Just like the fires that we light.
Lamps that burn the midnight oil,
Beneath the sheets we are coiled.
No stories left untold.
No Rosetta stone needed to decode.
The memories that we share,
They keep us warm when we are bare.

These books, they hide my shame,
For all our stories are untamed.
Not a day I can recall,
When I did not give my all.
My heart, my mind, my soul,
All for you to closely hold.
My body cannot remember,
The way I was before.

The nights under cryptic skies,
The moon, a shrine full of lies.
Our shadows swimming in the sea,
Underneath the good old tree.
You’re my favorite regret,
The only memory I’ll never forget.
Our stolen moments together
Are the best forever and never.