facta, non verba.
I used to write your name.
But now it feels rather strange just writing your initials.
I guess, yes, maybe.
Perhaps I’ve grown tired.
Sick. Worn - out. Dead beat.
You were no more than a child.
Naïve, no, you’re not.
Sure you recognize the moon. The sun.
Bet you know Venus. And perhaps, Pluto.
But their orbits. Did you think about their orbits?
No, you didn’t. Conceivably, you still don’t.
I would have lingered on. Really.
Succumbed. Yielded.
Then again, you didn’t deserve that.
Although, I wouldn’t have cared either.
But the whole thing was plain too much.
Lucid. Throbbing.
I tried not to see it, though. Or hear or feel, in the least.
I was strong. I was.
I am not anymore.
I used to write your name.
Writing it felt so familiar.
Made me feel good.
About you. About them. About myself.
Reading it, nonetheless, was discrete. Different.
Sick. Worn – out. Dead beat.
Succumbed. Yielded.
I was strong.
I am not anymore.
About you.
About them.
About myself.
No. No, not myself.
It was all you.
You and your world.
You. Just you.
Because I used to write your name.
I have forgotten how to write my own.
But now it feels rather strange just writing your initials.
I guess, yes, maybe.
Perhaps I’ve grown tired.
Sick. Worn - out. Dead beat.
You were no more than a child.
Naïve, no, you’re not.
Sure you recognize the moon. The sun.
Bet you know Venus. And perhaps, Pluto.
But their orbits. Did you think about their orbits?
No, you didn’t. Conceivably, you still don’t.
I would have lingered on. Really.
Succumbed. Yielded.
Then again, you didn’t deserve that.
Although, I wouldn’t have cared either.
But the whole thing was plain too much.
Lucid. Throbbing.
I tried not to see it, though. Or hear or feel, in the least.
I was strong. I was.
I am not anymore.
I used to write your name.
Writing it felt so familiar.
Made me feel good.
About you. About them. About myself.
Reading it, nonetheless, was discrete. Different.
Sick. Worn – out. Dead beat.
Succumbed. Yielded.
I was strong.
I am not anymore.
About you.
About them.
About myself.
No. No, not myself.
It was all you.
You and your world.
You. Just you.
Because I used to write your name.
I have forgotten how to write my own.
posted by cheli at 11:28 AM
2 Comments:
well done. Is this something to do with mr. anthony de guzman? You've said that you've moved on for the Nth time. I guess you're not. It's your choice if you will bore yourself waiting and waiting. A lot of guys are waiting for you! I think sooooo...
Miss you...
no, i did this one decades(haha, actually, months) ago. and i pasted it here so this new blog will have more posts. ;P
yeah, me and my tamad self,as usual.
you read my friendster blogs, noh? aww.....really, thanks. for the concern and for the time. hey, don't worry, tapos na ko kay tonton. ;P
`Wake up and face me, don’t play dead cause maybe
Someday I’ll walk away and say, “You disappoint me,”
Maybe you’re better off this way`
hoi, wag nang gawan ng issue yan...c",) friends na kame and so be it, mas masaya ito. ;P
(hello, tonton! haha.)
uhm...sana naglagay ka ng name, mishu too na lang kahit ndi ko alam kung sino ka. ;P
God bless you!!! c",)
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