It’s Not That I Don’t Love You

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time when I was still eighteen and my friends saw him cheat on me with his ex a few times but I still chose not to believe them. It’s that I’ve been told not to give him another chance. It’s that I never believed in anyone but him until one day, I saw him holding hands with her. It’s that he said he was sorry and promised not to do it again but this time I chose myself over another chance, and I promised not to trust people again.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time when I was about to start feeling fine again and I fell in love with my friend. It’s that I didn’t want to lose him and I know that he still has feelings for another girl. It’s that I tried so hard not to show it until one night, he held my hand and showed me what it’d be like to feel again but then I trembled at the thought; so I let him go.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I thought I’d never find someone in a world as fickle as ours when I already got so used to going through everything independently. It’s that I got so fixated at the thought that I build walls and always try to fence myself in. It’s that I can’t afford to be human and I thought I don’t need anyone. It’s that I’ve become so distant and detached towards the chances but then I met you.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time when I saw you standing there with the biggest smile on your face because you are doing something you love. It’s that I barely even know you and the remnants you still have with her. It’s that I’m already starting to recognize the feeling. It’s that I trembled at the thought of it again so I started running.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just that every time I try to convince myself that I’m ready for you, I curl back and shrink behind my walls. It’s that I feel like I can’t have you while you still have a little something of hers. It’s that I’m already torn between running and believing that I could afford to try again just by looking at you. It’s that I think that one of the most bittersweet feeling is when you realize how many times you’ve been living the same loop like baring an unraveled thread while getting so used to it again and again. It’s just that I never mean to confuse you even though I always validate myself with metaphors.

But what I’m trying to say is—it’s not that I don’t love you; it’s that I do.


A Postcard From Far, Far Away

Waves curl on your spine

As the soft blue moon

Orbits around your fingers

Flowers sprout

Out of my throat

Every time you speak

Every time I hear you sing

Your dreams are my dreams

Like large droplets of honey


Dripping with gold

So I squeezed the sun

Between my fists

And poured half a glass

My sunshine

Unto your resonating bones

Seasons split

And wither away,

Waves rolling into highways,

The never-ending seams;

On roads that are less traveled,

Dividing you and me

I wish I could unravel

The distance in-between

And tear away the space

To bring you close to me


Unsorted Thoughts That Should Never See The Light of Day

“I don’t understand. How will I ever make you understand?”

“I am worried that I will try too hard and lose you. I am worried that I will try too little and lose you.”

“Even if you can’t touch my walls, please know that what we have will still shelter you; even if you can’t see through my clouded ceiling, I will always be here for you.”

“Doubt may be as inherent as the desire to breathe, but there are still long stretches within you when you forget to breathe.”

“I imagine going home and talking through the day with you, even if I only speak about all the mundane things—dull and ordinary yet it’s a necessary thing.”

“I don’t trust myself, but I’m also the most honest, informed voice I’ve got.”

“Your name—I take a residual satisfaction every time I say it, as if what we have has become a part of its meaning.”

“I must say that there is an intimate language the two of us draft for each other, whether out loud or in our heads, on a day-to-day or moment-to-moment basis.”

“Before, I hadn’t understood how learning about you and learning about myself could happen within the same thoughts.”

“When everything seems so confusing without solace, I will always try to find your hand.”

“The best things you’ve given me can all be measured in days.”

“…the soft fabric dressing like silk, quietly holding all our patterns together.”

“I’m not sure what would happen if one morning I drank from yours and you drank from mine, but I’m glad we’ll still have to find out.”

“Opening my eyes, seeing sunlight, seeing you.”

“In a situation like this is, tell me that no matter what bad things happen, we can still make good things out of it.”

“When can I put aside my self-consciousness about talking too much in order to tell you something that I hope isn’t too much?”

“I only need one color to write down for you what all the other colors are like.”

“We’ll never change the world all at once, but I like to think both of us have a chance of altering it one person at a time.”

“Hand me your old skin, and I will get rid of it for you.”

“Sometimes I think I should tell you less; sometimes I think I should tell you more. Either way, I trust the balance.”

“Even when I pay attention, I miss things. Even when I add the sum, I can still get the numbers wrong. I know I build walls and have issues, but God knows I’m also trying so hard for you.”

“You do not always choose to be reflective; I just have to look at you the right way.”

“Still there are times I wish I didn’t have to be my own postman, that there was some separation between send and received.”

“There are days we have that can be measured in mere dozens of words, and I feel clouded because of them.”

“I like to believe that ultimately what we care about is what we are made of.”

“There are things within me that I haven’t shown, and I will not allow everyone but you—only if you choose to do so.”

“You keep the ravens in your head in a loose cage, allowing them to whisper their worst-case scenarios. But darling, shouldn’t we be setting them free?”

“I remain as devoted to your loss as I am to your victories, because I know you and I know what you mean to do.”

“Every time I speak the truth without knowing how to articulate it, I feel I haven’t lived up to the moment I wanted to create.”

“There must’ve been a moment when I don’t have to say “I’m over here,” because I can tell you already know, without having to turn.”

“I need you to believe that you are one of the certainties that holds me together.”

“I wonder how you would carry me when my thoughts weigh so much.”

This Is How You Will Water A Wallflower

I don’t know how I will ever believe at the idea of meeting someone as rare as a wallflower; but I’m beginning to believe that at one moment or another, if I were lucky, I might actually meet one. Not because it is perfect or because I am, but because our combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together. I also believe that there isn’t much of a written rulebook or description when you really try to decipher what a wallflower is, but I do believe that it’s something rare, something raw, and something reeling.

If you’re a wallflower and you’re reading this, here are the things that I want for you.

I want you to chase your happiness, your dreams—the ones that have lived inside your heart since you were little, flying to cloud nine, overwhelming with elation, if you make them come true. Some might even be the biggest and boldest dreams that scare you.

Build a life you’re excited to leap out of bed even though it’s just another typical and gruesome Monday morning—a life that doesn’t have you living for the weekend, a life that isn’t about making enough money so you can retire 50 years later and finally start living.

Live today.

You deserve to devote your precious time to all those things that light your soul. Maybe it’s traveling and writing. Maybe it’s making music. Maybe it’s painting or working on something you truly are passionate about. It’s your goal. Do it every single day and we’ll always support each other in every step of the way. Become a master of your own craft in the process. Accept the fact that you can be both a masterpiece and a work in progress. Do it for no other reason than the joy it brings you.

Honor your goals and the reason why you are here. Even if you don’t think that you have anything brilliant to offer—trust me darling, you do. And once you figure out what that is, it will all finally make sense. There might be years for questions, but there will always be years for answers.

Lastly, I want you to make everything count, even in the littlest of things, and infuse all your moments with sunshine. Create your own rational platform even in the most mundane task or issue. Find the silver lining even on the gloomiest of days. Be grateful no matter how small.

Choose to be happy. Chase happiness, everything else is a bonus.

Missing Sun

“If there’s anything that I should know…”, you said. Not looking at me. Just somewhere far off near my eyes and it’s startling because normally you hold my eyes so gently, I wonder how long it will take to melt with that.

I said it softly, unsurely moving but gentle fingers try to pick up the strand of your hair loosely hanging on your forehead. But you shake your head and the confusion looks a lot more blatant seeing you up close. Your expression makes me loose the sunlight I’m holding.

“If this is making you nervous…”, you eventually say and I let out a breath that gets caught before it sounds like a sigh, my eyes searching yours while I slowly whispered your first name. Replacing your nickname with more letters, tagging on to what belonged to you for a couple of years now. And I realized that I’ve never called you that before but it resonates, bounces around my mouth and down my throat and pounds with my heart as your eyes slowly searched for mine too. The twitch of a smile was there because every word I’ve said doesn’t have that much of importance except for those two syllables and you know it. Revel in it. Let it leak into parts the sunlight has missed. And right at that exact moment, I realized that I haven’t loved a person that much before—let alone myself, but maybe it all starts with you.

The Ballad Between The Moon and The Wolf

“How long can tonight last?”, asked the wolf.

Its whisper through the forest, an unkempt secret like a tattoo carved deeply in the branches; spreading across the indian rosewood tree. The wolf stared at the moon, glaring light throughout the valley and each night, it hunts for its own and the moon will always show the way. Relentless on its beating, the wolf slowly pressed its way through every bush, wondering how it came to a certain point of asking such an immeasurable question.

Like all the other nights, it’s dark—the wind gushing between every sleeping flesh. “I’ll only exist for a few hours.”, replied the moon softly on a cold and cloudy night. “Can I share it with you?”, asked the wolf again as it watched the trees sway across the moonlight. The moon smiled in unison.

And as the seasons change, conversations danced; one word to another. And the wolf still stayed, a being made alive and adored by the moonlight. And although the wolf has only been a believer of one thing but the moon is changing it now, the moon knows differently. And even though the moon and the wolf doesn’t always use words to write, but there’s a ballad in between their fond touched smiles and the way the moon tug the covers off the wolf’s paws every single night.

How long can a love last? How long can tonight last?”, this time it’s the moon asking to itself—and I’ve never seen shadows pour out of someone’s mouth like that.

For You

I really don’t know where to start, even though I usually don’t run out of metaphors but lately, it’s been like a clouded parchment and I may or may not have riddled out everything but I’m starting to get a grasp of something. I don’t know if I’m connecting and naming the right constellations between the tiny dots that you’ve laid out on my palms but I’ve already grown a lot more familiar to you and I only know how to keep you tucked in between two random pages like my favorite love letter hoping one day you’ll find your presence in these words; how I have felt so deeply for so long yet not knowing it myself is a mystery.

But I do believe that I owe you a lot of things; things I wish I could easily do and things I wish I would’ve easily done if it were possible for me to do it. And you might have already thought that I carry a lot of metaphors in the pockets of my mind and nothing I ever say is binary. And when given the choice between yes and no, my palms reached for a maybe because maybe, maybe this time you’re starting to get a grasp of something too.

And for quite a long time, we keep watching the slow drift of seasons from our windows in different locations. But you see, I never quite learnt how to pronounce intimacy so when you try to make a home out of my barred heart, my fingers still tremble to give you the key. I’m not really that well versed in the intricacies of how I’m going to begin again so forgive me. And I also know that you’ve also been through a lot and it’s okay—and I understand because like you, I also feel everything deeply. And we both want the universe and everything in it. We want to hold it. We want to keep it close by and fix things to make it better. Despite of it all, we’re still the eager ones.

I wish I had answers as to why—why we’re the fragile ones. But I’d like to think that one day everything we try to give will be appreciated because truthfully, we are rare and beautiful souls. And out of the different paralleling cosmos and contradicting patterns, you’re the only one making everything a little less heavy. So wherever you are, if you feel things deeply—please don’t stop. I won’t stop either. We won’t stop trying. Soon enough, I will run across you or maybe, you’ll run across me and everything will start to feel like we’re both crashing waves trying to come home.

Until then, think of me when you’re driving in your car, when every turn you take might bring you closer to me. And I will also think of you on roads that are less travelled, on roundabouts and never-ending seams. I will think of you for the beauty in which our hearts have felt and though it will be difficult at times like how worthy things are, I will always believe in the audacity of our underlying differences and likeness. I will always believe in you. If you’re reading, these are all laid out for you.