Darling,
we can be like this: not lovers
we shall refrain from using
soft tones to describe truths
subtle touches to ascribe promises
we shall call each other
by our given names
and tell our friends that
we shall be referred to separately
and are not expected
to sit beside each other
all the time
there shall no longer be ignitions
at the slightest meeting of skin
no long, meaningful eyelocks,
no compliments.
when i reach out for your body
in the middle of the night
we shall call it unconscious intimacy
no, not intimacy..
unconscious bodily motion,
that's it.
we shall grant each other
100% freedom, flirting and cheating
and infidelity will be words
once remembered
and we shall undress ourselves of
the vulnerabilities we once
found in each other
there will no longer be "i love you"s
no, not even in silence
and meals will be basic
human need for food.
not bond, not interaction,
not fondness.
(not ESPECIALLY fondness.)
there shall be no missing,
no cuddling, no demands,
I will be cutting all our ties,
changing my passwords,
throwing away your memoirs.
and swear in my heart
that I will never look at you
the same way again
or never look at you
at all.
So,
deal?
Sitting beside handsome
Is an intricate art:
A bouquet of anxiety
Grows on your skin
So abruptly,
Yet so daintily,
As if it has happened before.
A familiar feeling, yes,
Like opening your first gift from Santa
Or taking the first strides
Of your pre-school graduation march.
You check your hair,
The oil on your face,
And how your feet look
In those girly slippers.
All of these done
With extreme subtlety.
Your vocabulary shrinks to one-tenth, so,
You mutter words which
Do not sound like words,
So he wouldn’t get the impression
That you want
To talk to him so badly.
And it’s an emotional tug-of-war.
To talk or not to talk.
To talk or not to talk.
Surprisingly, his opinion matters now.
You realize this,
And your heart pounds on your chest,
Your mouth experiences drought,
Your pupils bloom.
But you like it. It’s a fair imitation
Of midday magic.
It was just an ordinary day,
Powdered with good luck,
Embroidered with bliss.
And he has no idea. No.
---
Wrote this sometime in 2008. Inspiration: sitting next to a handsome TV Celebrity. Scribbled this poem in a hurry, like I was chasing the words in my head.
Published in Dagmay, sometime in 2008
Published in The Best of Dagmay, 2011 (a book collection of the best Dagmay poetry, creative prose and short stories; launched last May 2011)
Isang Huwebes Umulan (by Red Agreda)
Sa pabagu-bagong ihip ng hangin
Mananatili akong matatag para sa iyo
Nakakalito mang tingnan ang mga patak ng ulan
Asahan mong tutugunan ko ng sagot ang bawat katanungan
Hayaan mong pawiin ko ang iyong takot sa kulog at kidlat
Sana'y makatutulong ang aking boses at yakap
Pangakong ako'y nasa iyong tabi
Sabay tayong iinom ng mainit na kapeng
unti-unti nating hihigupin
Hindi ako uuwi
Tatapusin natin ang ulan--magdamagan man.
The Reply (by Karla Singson)
Naubos ko na ang kape.
Ubos na rin ang mga luha ng langit.
Ni isa, wala akong hiningi sa'yo.
Binaha mo ako ng pangako,
Ng bandeha-bandehadong yakap,
Mga bundok ng dalamhati...
At ang unti-unting ihip
Ng mainit mong pagmamahal.
Hindi naman ako nilamig.
Hindi naman kita tinawag.
Ni isa, wala akong hiningi sa'yo.
Inimibita ko ang kulog at kidlat;
Hindi mo sila kailangang patahimikin.
Kinatha ko ang mga tanong;
Hindi mo sila kailangang burahin.
Umuwi ka na.
Humarap ka sa salamin
Yugyugin mo ang iyong mga balikat
At
kumbinsihin mo
Ang sarili mong
hindi mo ako mahal.
Ni isa, wala akong hiningi sa'yo.
---
Written: Sometime in 2008
Red Agreda is a part-time corporate frog and a full time artist. He takes very beautiful pictures; sometimes they're better than words.
Are you not tired of me?
Are you not tired of my ways?
My indefinite schedule?
My oh-so-busy life? My loud behavior?
Are you not tired of the pressures I dress you up with?
My arrogance?
My promiscuity?
Tell me,
What kind of coffee do you drink?
It will only seem like
I hung a giant placard
by my door
saying
goodbye
like how a teardrop
hangs at the curve of my cheek
waiting for you
to solemnly wipe it off
Quietly
I look around
and I find you
sitting in all of the places
where I live my life
I will fold all your memories
and make them seem
like they're not as grand
as they are
or as they used to be
I will go around the house
and put them in places
where I'm not likely to see them:
under a teacup i never use
behind the rice cooker box
or in a stash at the underground basement
where there are things I tend to forget
When I make my bed in the morning
I will flap the sheets
as if I was whisking off all the things
which remind me of you
of that bed
of your scent
and your sweat
and the mild bumps that you leave
everytime you lay there
then I will go to the kitchen,
to the bathroom
to the terrace
and keep everything
good-for-one only
no his-and-hers
no other things in pairs
and when I fixed everything
in the house I used to call my home
I will sit in a corner
indulge in the silence
and as I unplug the telephone cord
I will decide
that I will never
let you hear from me again
not even the sound
of the whimpers when I
cry but do not intend to be heard
not even the sound
of my footsteps as I walk to your door
but turn around and leave anyway
not even the sound
of your name
escaping from my lips
unconsciously when I'm half asleep
not even the sound
of my heart breaking
into pieces
I cannot find
I cannot find
I cannot find
Written: December 28, 2009
So here it is.
Here's how you forget:
do it
one memory each day
and soon enough
you'll find yourself
free from all the kinds
of chains she puts
on you
unknowingly
today, you can
start to forget about her
laughter, no matter how
smoothly it glides
at the sides of your ears,
like the way you pour beer
so that the bubbles don't get
in the way
tomorrow,
you can forget
the way she touches you,
and how your own flesh
responds to the call
of her skin
(or maybe you can
leave the response part
for the day after)
The next day,
try to get away
from all of the places
where both of you
shared pretty good memories
or even those bad ones
forget the first kiss,
the first embrace,
especially the place where
you first saw her and knew
"She's the one"
by the way the sun
glistens on the
apple of her cheeks
So there.
A memory each day.
And when you find yourself
pretty far off
after a few days,
try to take a break
from all the forgetting
and wait up for the
most intense part
Then,
Forget how you loved her.
Forget how quickly it happened
Forget how strongly it hit you
Forget how great it turned out to be
It may take a few days
weeks, months, years even
But yeah,
one memory each day.
Forgetting has never been easier,
hasn't it?
Written: April 5, 2010
Feel the rush of waking up
Singing in the showers
And choosing my clothes giddily
As I look forward to seeing you
In a restaurant
A little too far from home
A little too expensive for our budget
I’d like to gush over your
Sweet late night text messages
Even though they are things
That I’ve heard before
In movies,
In songs,
Wherever
I’d like for you to
Surprise me with flowers on the bedside again
And make me feel like
Miss Universe would pale in comparison
To when I smile in the morning
During our invigorating village jogs
That’s making me blush harder
Than when you first held my hand
Today
I don’t really know
How you spend your days
Do you think of me
As fondly as before?
Do you look forward to
Us seeing again,
As eagerly as before?
Do I still look lovely to you?
I’d like to date you again
For whatever it’s worth
Are you free tonight?
Perhaps after you
Tuck the kids in?
I like it when
you hold my hand
i like it when
you try to
establish a connection
capture my attention
either in the midst
of a busy crowd
or in the peace of a
midnight slumber
