Reveries are too sad to hide beneath your skies,
melancholies are too fragile to hear your cries...

I find it unusual
to be reading recipe books...

Empty hallways,
ghosts on a wine cellar...

Midway the slope
where two clandestine faults seem to collide...

You've forgotten all about me --
windmills and cornfields in between...

And here I am again
getting up from bed...

If I bury my poetry
underneath Manila skies...

Chrysanthemums paint
as onyx skies softly weep...

On what day shall I weep?
I broke my collar bone...

I do not deserve
to be in anyone's life...

To those who don't know,
I let Dandelions die...

I have forgotten about you lately,
forgotten how you smell on that afternoon...