Fairytales
are never
found in
a realist painting
and you
keep sketching
a lot
of realities-
my reveries, fractured;
and I am
unable to go home.
(Without you)
Your footsteps
are symphonies.
They swallow
my heart
and fill it
with nothingness.
And I am here
-stuck-
a broken winged firefly
that lost
its glow
and essence.
Clouds do not
seem to fit
where those
azure blue skylines
find my
21 wishes.
How long
will it take you
to draw iridescence
and evanescence
in Yesterday's Sky
when all
it holds
is the
scintilla of
promised rhapsodies
and Sampaguita-fragrant
melancholies?
What will
the sky
hold tomorrow?
Maybe it will
always be
a dream
to be here
in Manila-
a dream
that only happens
when you forget
the echoes,
the screams,
and the silence,
and just remember
the way
your heart beats.
And I will
keep on dreaming
until the sky holds
the reality
that you and I
are meant
to create reveries
under the same sky.
