and if life has failed you, leave the cross you're nailed to

morning rains

morning rains

arm draped around my shoulder
your embrace a warm comfort
as the morning rains get colder

your breath holds me to bed
keeping me under your folds
your hand cradling my head

so pull me much closer
hug me tighter
make me wish this lasts forever

 

still breathing

breathing

yes, i am still breathing.

friends have been sending me private messages, emails and texts wishing me well and checking up on me. they noticed a lack of social media activity on my part and thought something was amiss. there were two who even thought i had passed on. beautiful thought, but no. there is, actually, something amiss but i prefer to deal with it privately. suffice it to say that detachments are never easy and they always hurt. so i have been preoccupying myself by putting a couple of dreams to sleep and waking up others. i have been writing stories about what happened but those tales will never see the light of day or even come close to facebook. ink on paper, you see. and then there is work which is an excellent distraction. there are people at work who have become friends so weekdays have not been boring. weekends are for chores, loud music, old movies, taking pictures and coffee. and there is always someone to converse with.

so. yes, i am still breathing.

 

sleepy

sleepy

i already hear your thoughts weaving around in my head. i may have danced with a fragment of your dreams for the night and shared a cup of coffee with another. i do miss you as i lay here among the weary shadows. i tire as the night deepens and my eyes grow heavy with the weight of this lifetime. i want to go home, rest for a spell with you. goodnight, love.

 

first sunrise

first sunrise

good morning,
love.

there it is

there it is

finally
i’m done.
it was a long wait
and at times i thought
you came back
but a lonely heart gets lost,
gets blinded and make mistakes
but its was when i was alone
that i saw what was left
who was left
and none knows my name
nor needs me
so now,
finally
i’m done.

until the next lifetime.

— 30 December 2015

found art

found art

 

POEMS FOR ALL OF MY EXES (1): TO THE ONE I STILL REFRAIN FROM CALLING
by Sade Andria Zabala

I ache for you.
It’s three in the morning,
and I’m grasping for an excuse
not to call you.
I used to be fearless. I used to be invincible.
But now my fingers
are fumbling for
the empty space
of your outline on my bed sheets.
I’m sitting here
trying to convince myself
that I don’t want you –
but the more I say it
the less I believe it.
I am starting to accept
that you never loved me.
And it’s sad
because I don’t think you see
how beautiful you are to me.
Your face was the light
that chased away the shadows,
every nightmare, every fear.
But you burned out and now
I’m learning to be afraid
of the dark once again.

Sade Andria Zabala is a twenty-four year old Filipina surfer sometimes living in Denmark. She is the author of poetry books War Songs and Coffee and Cigarettes. Her work has appeared on places such as Literary Orphans, The Thought Catalog, The Rising Phoenix Review, Hooligan Magazine, Germ Magazine, and more. In her spare time she likes to eat words and drink sunlight.

i came across this in the berlin-artparasites page while lazily strolling through my facebook feed one lethargic morning. the first line caught me, made me stop. beautifully crafted, sade. my thanks to you for writing what i was afraid to tell myself.

in the photo is a very shy friend of mine.

 

bound

bound

the line has been laid, the circle has been sealed with hidden words. we are bound now, you and i, for this eternity and the next and all the lifetimes contained within.

 

unsaid words

unsaid words

unsaid words
27 July 2014

the old songs follow the rain
carrying a chestful of fading pictures,
a blanket full of unfinished dreams,
and a notebook filled with unsaid words.

sometimes,
i enjoy these short visits of almost forgotten memories
sometimes.

 

this is a repost from an old blog. its only now that i have found a apt photo to accompany the words: http://headlessspider.blogspot.com/2014/07/unsaid-words.html

Tapis

tapis

My Nanay Bating — that’s what we call Aunt Beatrice — she taught me a good number of things when I was young. I was always being instructed to be quiet, to observe and to just listen. It was only years later when i was just a tad wiser when she told me the significance of those instructions. She said if you want to undertand people better you not only have to listen to what people are saying, you also have to listen to what they’re not saying. You also have to listen more to what they do rather than to what they say.

Over the past weekend I purchased a ‘tapis’ — a hand-woven wrap-around skirt from this lady from the Ifugao highlands. Her eyes reminded me so much of my Nanay Bating and her lessons.

elsewhere

elsewhere

elsewhere.
i like that word. neither here nor there. its a place where you are are. a place where i will run to this night.

 

bisikleta

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