Isn’t this what I have been longing for?
To uncover the universe with my bare hands

Scoop up all the stars, planets, moons and suns I could hold
And bite into their bodies

Make light of my murderous hunger just to ingest something other than darkness
That has always found a way to settle into my hollow bones I can make telescopes out of

How long has it been since I ate hope?
How long has it been since I stuffed myself with prayers and wishes?

I still believe they float somewhere in the universe or in the spaces between me and the self I’ve carried once like an injured bird
Now flying midair with a broken wing

And maybe if I reached out far enough, I’d be able taste them once again
Let their embers burn my tongue

Let them start wildfires within me
And make stars out of every sigh

Planets out of every tear
Moons out of every wish

Suns out of ever prayer
Let them make a damn universe out every breath I’ve taken

Every breath I’m taking
Every breath I will take

A universe
Out of thin air

A universe
Out of me


a letter to my journal

My Dearest Diary,

I’ve written so many letters for the people I love, the people I would love to meet, the people who don’t even know me on you and I’ve come to realize I haven’t written one for you. Though I believe there are times when I express my gratitude for your existence, a letter is still different so I hope you regard this as that. A letter that isn’t waiting for a reply. Anyway, I’m blabbering here. It’s as if I don’t know what to say to you at all even if you probably know every word I have written or uttered to myself, alone in a room. You’ve known me for more than a year or so and you’ve let me express everything I couldn’t in my poetry, in my stories, in my art and in the conversations I have with others and with myself. I would like you to know that I’m often too careful of what I say to myself but with you here, I am free. I know you’ve witnessed me writing some of the harshest things I have said to no one but me and I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you felt that anger, that self-hatred, but thank you for letting me see who I am when I feel I’m not me. Those are the parts that I hide so well from the world and from myself. Those are the parts of me that I don’t understand, that I don’t fully accept. Those are the parts of me I deem as foreign, alien even. But they’re part of me. They’re who I am. And you let me write them, you let me express them, all these voices I have cupped my ears for. And I’ve realized, I have so much more to learn about myself, the fears I have, the insecurities, the unused energy reverberating inside of me. Positive values and negative traits, they’re all me. Parts of me. I am fragmented. But with you here, I feel whole. You contain all of who I am. Maybe not all, definitely not all, but you posses the parts of me even I can’t face. And you’re doing so unapologetically. So… thank you. With all my being, I thank you.



hearts are stubborn

my heart blooms in times when i never expect it too. i ask why. why it needs to open itself, open me, when all i ever wanted to do is to wrap myself within my arms and use them as armor, as a shield to guard my ghosts and my light and my words and my worlds from anyone else, from anything else, from everything else. but my heart is stubborn. my heart never wants me to miss these moments that will capture my breath, that will run their gentle and sometimes sharp fingers through my skin and reach that which is unknown even to me, maybe leave kisses, maybe leave scars. moments that would leave me afraid because i will never have enough words to describe them. moments i will fail to tell the moon and the stars waiting outside my window for my voice, my stories, my presence. deep and terrifying moments. deep and terrifying discomfort. deep and terrifying happiness.

sleeping in sleeplessness

and i sleep
and i sleep
and i sleep
i sleep as my monsters caress my shoulder, waiting for me to open my eyes
and meet theirs
waiting for me to hold their hands colder than the icebergs in my dreams
waiting for me to cling onto their thick skin i once thought would protect me
i’ve foolishly equated them with those capes superheroes wear
but capes tear, their skin don’t
and in my dreams, i can feel them looking for a way in
there is no way in
i can’t even get in myself most of the time
and i sleep
and i sleep
and i sleep
let me sleep
let me sleep
let me sleep

for all my bad days

bad days end. i got through despite the world pressing itself on my back. maybe it was my hand and only mine that was ramming this entire planet on my spine. i’ve become so hard on myself that i think i have reached the point of absolute negligence towards my entire being. my body stays strong, but my mind, my heart and my soul all thirst for the love i can never seem to give to myself. there’s not one person in this entire multiverse that can hurt me more than i can hurt myself. conversely, there’s not one person in this entire multiverse that can love me more than i can love myself.


i’m not done with you yet

another day, another round of poems i will leave with open wounds
poems that barely contain what i feel
poems never written fully
poems i’ve flung to a cliff
and they fall down the rabbit hole of time until i’ve completely forgotten about them
they’ll find their way back to me, they always do
but the moment i meet them, i wouldn’t even recognize the stories they tell in their eyes
and i know even this poem
i wouldn’t be able to finish


to catch the sun with your bare hands and hold it softly, waiting until it seeps into your skin. the brightest star on your lips, illuminating the words you’ve longed to say to yourself. how bright is your being? you don’t quite know how the moon looks at you in awe, how the moon keeps your spirit in its sleep, how the moon owes its light to you. you don’t quite know the shine you give to the world, the shine you give to yourself. never are you aware of it. never are you aware of the beauty you possess. never are you aware of yourself.