Friday, July 07, 2006

when you're gone

And in the day, everything's complex
There's nothing simple, when I'm not around you

But, I miss you when you're gone
That is what I do....
And it's going to carry on,
That is what I knew...

I woke up today not remembering any dreams I had. Or if I ever did, they were lost the next waking second. I miss you. It was like a vacuum that suddenly sucked everything about you into my mind the moment I woke. Everything that was my fantasy, everything that might have brought wild visions in my brain during my sleep was vanquished by the mere thought of missing you. I long to hold you in the morning, to feel you skin against mine. I long to see your eyes still closed as I open mine. Or see you staring at me, watching me, as I open my eyes. These sheets are alien to me now that you’re not in them. This room feels like a cold cavern that I cannot fill. Not without you.

Hold on to my hands, I feel I'm sinking
Sinking without you

And to my mind, everything's stinking
Stinking without you

I woke up today to Dolores O’Riordan wailing about missing you. She hit the words right. I never thought I could sway to their music other than heavy head bopping. Now my heart rides the waves of thoughts that this person has brought. And I am riding tough like a surfer against a very big wave. I miss you.

And in the night, I could be helpless
I could be lonely, sleeping without you
And in the day everything's complex

Tonight I shall go to sleep feeling the same thing. Perhaps I had conquered another day. Perhaps I had accomplished a lot of significant things. Perhaps I did a good job. But all of that does not buy your presence. All of that doesn’t bring you back. All I can do is wait. And little by little, be consumed by this intensely growing sentiment of being incomplete without you.

There's nothing simple, when I'm not around you
Hold on to love, that is what I do

But, I miss you when you're gone
That is what I do....
And it's going to carry on,
That is what I knew...


Had I known you did not and still do not share my enthusiasm for being friends, I would have stopped ages ago. You should have known me better than you’re showing me now. I never ever said a word that I had even the slightest chance of regretting the next day, when the alcohol in our brains have subsided, and when sanity regains control of our thoughts. You, on the other hand, had exhibited far less discretion on that department. On several occasions, when I thought your words were enough to hold on to, they would be rebuked by the reality that they were indeed said under the influence of alcohol.

Several times have you cried on my shoulders, both literally and metaphorically. Several times have I been witness to your confessions about how your life had been, or is being. Several times had I fallen victim unwittingly of course, to your nonsensical ramblings about things that never would come true. Your life is a fantasy, that I thought I could live. I thought that I could ride the waves you brought like a surfer against a very big tide. But no. I’ve fallen every time.

What was it that you claim I said about you? Have you heard me deny it? You gave me the license to say it the moment you betrayed the trust I had in your words. I should have never put so much faith in what you say. But I did. And that’s a compliment to you. Surely it would take much effort on your part to understand that. All you heard was what I said, but never put consideration on why it was said.

I treated you as a friend. I treated you with civility. I treated you like I knew you. It turns out, you never even bothered knowing me at all. We had the good times, yes, but that’s all we were ever good for.

So to you, who I thought could be a significant part of me, I bid you good luck. May you find your happiness in whatever form you may find it. I shall take no part in it, as I had already tried. But failed.

The indifference I am showing you now is more than enough testimony of what we could have been.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

the passionate wait

the swirling clouds are above me
the trees rustle their leaves in the wind
and I am imprisoned in this chair
with bare feet on the cold concrete floor
i wait for your touch to unbind me.
your touch to remind me
to find me
my eyes follow your footsteps until
they are consumed by the sand
my hearing fails me; your voice is lost in the wailing wind
i cower, and brace myself from the onslaught of your absence
wanting more for you to reclaim me
for you to proclaim me
to tame me

Sunday, July 02, 2006

ramified poetry

“Chris? I know it’s you. Don’t hang up, please. Let me just get this one out. I know I’ve promised you many things, promises I just couldn’t keep. I don’t know how to say I’m sorry, but I am. I really am.”
“Tell me it’s not you, Jim…”

God knows how much I wanted that conversation to stop. I couldn’t stand it, the pain his voice brings. I can barely remember his face, but flashbacks from my yesteryears gave me a glimpse of how he looked. He was from long ago, a very long time ago. My name was still Tin-tin back then. We were two young souls growing in the hustle-bustle of Paranaque. He was my playmate, my friend, and a little time later, my first love. They say first loves die hard. I guess it’s only true when you remember him with joy, happiness and love.

“Tell me it’s not you Jim. Please. It’s not the same anymore.”
“Chris, it is me. I want us to be back like we were before.”
“There is no us, Jim. There never was. I only made it up.”

Throughout my high school life he was there; my confidante at times my teacher embarrass me at classs, my researcher for my assignments, my constant lunch date, even my streetcrossing companion. Maybe that was when I fell for him. In college, there wasn’t much I could do to tell him what I felt. One time or two, when he was drunk, he would tell me things I’d rather him say when he was sober. In anyway, it still made my heart jump.
I loved him then. I remember now. I did. He was the world to me; he was everything that mattered. The day he said he loved me too was the sweetest day I could remember. My birthday didn’t even come close. It was a day I thought would last forever. Regrettably, it didn’t.

“There never was an ‘us’, Jim. I created it out of my own imagination. I pulled it out of the clouds. You were never there.”
“But Christine, there were just too many things I couldn’t handle. Things both of us never thought would happen.”

The next scene that flashed before me was something that squeezed my heart tight. It was almost Christmas, my first Christmas after college. My life was perfect then. I had a good job, I had a good apartment, and I had Jim. And I had the perfect gift for him that Christmas. Yet, that day was the day that his knife struck my life. There was just cold ice in my stare on what I saw as I opened his apartment’s door. It was some other woman wrapped around my man’s arm. Jim. My Jim.
That was the last I saw him. That day left a mark on my heart so indelible that hate was hardly the word to describe what I’ve sown and tendered into full bloom. It made a scar so deep that no amount of time could ever heal it. I had the perfect gift for him, wrapped by my body.

“No, Jim.”
“Chris, I know you could find it in your heart to forgive me. I love you Chris. I know you still love me too. Just give me another chance. Please, I’m begging you, please.”
“Six years is long enough. I’ve already turned the pages, Jim. Leave me alone.”

“Why are you crying, mommy? Who was that?”
“Nobody, sweetie. Nobody.”

I had the perfect gift for you, Jim --- your son.