It Follows

This sadness knows no end.

Momentary happiness covers me in the day. But as soon as I find solitude, this cover leaves me. I undress and in the nude is my skin, and the sadness that inks it. This sadness marks me. It is present, like a second skin that shapes me. It is impossible to miss.

They say grief feels like walking around with a hole in your heart. I did not believe it. In my mind, holes in the hearts are for immature fools who cannot withstand heat and its reshaping. Today I stand corrected. I, too, now have a hole in my heart.

I walk and live and breathe in the day with a hole in my heart. A dark pit whose depth remains unknown and unexplored. A hole that is heavy and influences me with a deep sunken feeling. A vacuum that sucks me in until it aches. A physical attack that leaves me defenseless.

Happiness does not last, never throughout the day. In those brief and special moments, I cherish the happiness and I promptly speak my gratitude because I know the sadness immediately follows. Even when I have noticed the pattern, still the sadness catches me, wraps me, and spins me in its fingers.

In my solitude, Grief sits with me. Shares coffee with me. Accompanies me. Mirrors my every move. Uses its body language to let me know its attraction towards me. Sometimes it is a friend who understands my sadness, and consoles me for it. Sometimes it is a pressing boss who demands my attention by repeatedly stabbing me, which eventually manifests into a physical assault to the heart. I have to turn towards it. I have to face it.

This sadness knows no end. In the night, I still lie awake to nothing. A nothing so profound yet so dark, hollow, and heavy. Some nights, the weirdest dreams still haunt me and leave me waking to confusion and an insatiable longing. I continue to long for every thing that I am missing.

The days are long. The nights longer. The happiness brief. The sadness, the longing, the loneliness, the waiting, I do not know how it starts, only that it goes on.



And like the blood moon
so too my heart bleeds
yet still rises
and shows up again and again.

Sometimes, You Can Win

I cannot help but wonder:
Are these small sudden fortunes
an apology,
or a way of consoling me,
of reminding me how I am
looked after and still loved?
Thank you.
Not once have I dared to
be mad at you.
I could not.
But your ways of patching me up,
they are gifts,
small temporary joys
to stitch through a lifetime of
irrecoverable grief and sorrow.
I had to win because I lost.
I lost so much more
than I can ever win again.
I thank you still.

You Learn I

You learn.

To live with pain.
To accept how some things
you cannot change
and most things you will be
left with no other choice
but to go on.
To move. It does not matter how slow
how unsteady your steps
most of the times you stumble
but you move and you keep moving.
To forgive people even when
they do not ask
for your forgiveness
and yes, that includes your self.
To take care of your self
because you know
if not you, who else
would be there?
To let go of people who do not
want anything to do with you.
To be uncaring about
what people think of you
but to be caring about how
you affect people.
To do more than what is
required of you.
To be there and to give
and not expect anything in return.
To show up and keep trying.
To let yourself be loved
but accept that you
cannot be loved
every day in the ways
you want to be loved.
To be more active
by taking duties
and responsibilities
to heart and yes, that includes
people, relationships, this world,
and what’s beyond.
To be better at being on your own
because you know you are
a singular type of person
and you are able
in far more ways
than you can now know.
To give yourself room to breathe.
To cry, suffer, and take the hurt
when you need it most.
To continue to love.
To discover the mysteries of the heart,
its elasticity that does not
seem to have a limit,
its capacity to still be good
in spite of the pain, the heaviness,
the dark, the brokenness.
To reserve moments in every day
to remember, cherish, and honor
the greatest love
and the greatest person you love
never to let anything rob you
of her memory.
To live and breathe and move and still be.

You learn.

Color Me Bad

You either
hate him
for everything
he is not
adore him
for everything
he is.
Hating is easy.
Loving is a duty.