My Notes
I was once in love with a musician, and he plucked the strings of his guitar with such grace and accuracy that the essence of his notes were almost hypnotizing to listen to. But his virtuosity and his intrinsic skill made him regulate and adjust my way of playing my own notes. I wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time, but I’ve realized later on that his predominant control over my beginning musicianship transcended into my everyday life as well. For that, I revised my own life: I erased every trace of him out of my music sheet and wrote my own notes instead. They didn’t sound as graceful, elaborate, or natural like his own set of notes, but they were MY notes, my own creations, and in the end that was what really mattered.
Mysterious Feeling
This heavy, mysterious feeling usually comes and goes. Its visits are often extended until I no longer feel the difference between what’s real and what isn’t, what emotion is permanent or temporary, if it’s melancholy or another form of meaning that is unrecognizable or hard to translate into words. Between my conscious and subconscious lies a separate understanding of what I think I feel and what I’m actually feeling. Sometimes, they are so overwhelming that it swells against my chest, beating to get out until I weep them out. The built up of my sadness, anger, confusion, exhaustion, and frustration pour down my cheeks, a temporary release of the battles that are currently fighting inside me. I think it’s more than just what I think it is or more than what others think it might be; it’s so perplex that it does not have a word, but a feeling that we can only understand ourselves once it hit us.
Black Effects
The walls around me
Slowly melt into puddles
I kneel down on the wooden floor
Feeling it with my fingertips
They vibrate across from me
Like ripples on water
A mixture of self-pity and loathing
Combined with white lines of powder
Sets not everything on fire
But drips down into puddles of water
It must not only be the dopamine
Overflowing my brain
Increasing my blood flow in my veins
It must be something else
That I can't recognize
And as my body surrenders
The floor rises up
Everything is turning horizontally
Black is slowly spreading
On all four sides of my vision
As my cheek lays flat on the floor
I hear the loud ticks of the clock
Vibrating in the air
My heart joins in the music
Beating in unison with the ticks
As the black continues to spread
The clock ticks are slowing down
The blackness is spreading more
And as I only see a hint of light
I hear one final tick of the clock
With my last heartbeat
The dark consumes me whole
Until there is nothing left to feel
But emptiness
Cradled
I woke up realizing that
All night I was cradled by
Pages of words containing
Thoughts, conversations, ideas
Of descriptive words and objects
The air, apart from the warmth of light
Seemed dusty and there was an
Unexplainable smell that I knew
Fresh as dew, yet worn as a rag
That one only recognize when facing it
They were scattered about, mixed into
The waves of the cold, smooth sheets
Yet they warm me more than the sun
A sweet embrace that assured me
Of the good things in life
I felt at home
Stretch Marks
I hesitated when
I removed my shirt and shorts
In front of you
Because I was insecure about
My stretch marks
Running across my
Arms, thighs, and stomach
Like lightening stripes
And when you asked me what’s wrong
I told you the truth and
Pointed at them
I’d imagine your lips twisting in disgust but
You leaned in and kissed
Each
One
And you said that
You loved them
Because they were a part of me.
You didn’t considered them as imperfections but
Beauty marks that further enhances my beauty
And in that moment
I’ve never felt more beautiful.
Under the Silver Moonlight
As the clock ticks faster
Under the control of time
These bitter-sweet memories
Still linger in my mind
They haunt my dreams
Slipping in my sleep
Behind closed eyes
Seducing me
With sweet melodies
Filled with fragment scenes
Of city lights and starry nights
I guess that's why I walk along
The streets among
The black nights
Looking for warmth in the cold dark
Under the silver moonlight
The ground pulses with the beats
The eighth notes hung in the air
A lullaby so serene and sweet
Reminding me of my despair
Nostalgia hits me through the bone
Faint whispers carried by the wind
Reminding me of lost scenes
Reminding me how far I've been
Long ago, I've been afraid
Of black nights from the start
Now I accept
Now I enjoy
The cold embrace of the dark