I. Dear Q.
Don’t bother yourself, brother.
But really, had you sang your heart
A bit earlier than the dawning
Of her childhood love, now could have been
More than a stolen night spent in your car.
Tonight, as the mist chills your skin and her hopes,
It’s only a promise unsaid that goes unnoticed.
See, both your hands tremble of earthquakes
Longing to be hushed by the certainty of chances.
But never fade the thought that sirens in serenity
Have songs to offer too. Someday in the blooming
Of a different knowing, she’ll sing.
As if you’re the only one listening. So breathe.
Breathe as if this is far from an ending,
Near to what should have been your beginning.
Breathe as you once told me
That she is the rise and fall of your chest.
II. Dear J.
It’s not the songs he intentionally sings for you
In a videoke bar. Not the lyrics of which
Are what he offers his longing but you.
The vagueness of falling in love that is you.
Indifference is not to blame. What reference
But to say that heart-censorship kills
More than infidelity! And you know it.
You know that as he smokes a cigarette
In response to your restlessness
Brought by a different boy elsewhere,
There’s love in between his puffs.
You know that you smile in the presence
Of someone you once knew.
Someone to drive you from city to city
And finally home. You know
That the romance is too young to close
For you to hold on to someone else’s nearness
Which has a distance incalculable as the past.
(Published, Philippine Graphic, April 2, 2007)
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