From summer’s midday air,
to winter’s evening breeze,
it may be bound to happen,
we know, but
was it something inevitable,
like any other
seasons of the year,

or was letting the stars
slip off our fingertips—
a decision you chose
instead of keeping your promise?



End of Tunnel

I cannot tell you the things I feel about
or how funny the joke was on the radio
or how I got lost and still found my way out of an unfamiliar place,

I cannot tell you the joy which to me the sunset brings
and the glimmer of each dotted star on a clear sky
and the breeze of the wind from the shoreline,

For I know
they won’t change a thing
whatever your mind thinks
or the way you feel,

But would you help me in this task?
Only this little favor of mine,
hoping it won’t take up too much of your time:

Hold on.
No matter how hard it is for you.
Do not lose your fingers, slipping one by one from gripping that single string of hope.

Hold on.
You may not see it now, or tomorrow, or the coming days,
but like a caterpillar in its cocoon, eventually a butterfly will come out,
there will come a time,
the end to all the sufferings, heartache and pain.

Hold on.
I’m reaching you my hand, you can hold it,
any way you want,
on your own terms, I won’t mind.

Just hold on.
with you I will stay,
trust me darling, i will
till we both see the light
at the end of the tunnel.


We were each other’s poison
a love so incomprehensible
it struck us like a venom,

You had to get your way out of death
while I cling to it—
cradled like a child in its dying breath.

Muffled Harmony

You speak to me
as bright as winter’s glow
catching each breath of snow
I take in dearly;

You speak to me
as though the sun had set
for the stars to shine free,
as though rainbow’s end
weren’t fantasy;

You speak to me
like how chains clink
off of prisoner’s wrist,
leaving marks of sentence
but none of his regrets;

You speak to me
like those of artworks in a gallery
an incomprehensible picture
none ever understood
but you and me;

You spoke
like nobody ever did,
and with those mem’ries I’ll keep
’til tremors of thunder
no longer
muffled our harmony.



My hands held tight of the pen, afraid it might slip from trembling,
I saw no more than blurred scribbles on a sheet of paper
as the tears gather in the rim of my eyes, but they won’t fall, no—
not until this farewell I’m writing
reaches your heart,
and feel it change nothing of our fate
I once thought I’m capable of changing.

Strange Woman

I stand in front of a mirror
eyes skeptic,
darting from one angle
to the other of my reflection;

Am I the same, or
have I changed?

Finding evidence in the bruises,
or any hand prints,
or any marks
that may suggest
of the dimmed, heated night
though there was none…

Except from the pulsing pain,
I find oddly and sweet
swinging backwards and forwards
there and again;

At last,
a breath escaped from my lips,
I turned my back against it
now willing to leave,

But something gnaws,
unwordly thoughts,
perhaps remorse
or triumph all the same,
piercing from the eyes
of the person before I,

Was it truly me,
standing in front of a mirror,
or a strange woman entirely?