He was a curator
who speaks softly about...

Like the moon,
I don’t have enough lucency...

Dusky and shadowy flowers
thrive in the twilight of shuttered lakes...

Your tired eyes still glow.
They remind me of dandelions...

Your brilliance used to stain
this broken town with orange...

Manila, what does it take
to break someone's heart...

We seem like capital cities apart...
Everyone seems to be moving on...

Sitting across each other
on the jeepney...

Those sunflowers bring resonance:
your voice, March, pine trees...

Once, dandelion wishes
floated in the air...

A thousand
cherry blossom petals...

My heart prickles in pain
remembering how lonely...