The house I live in,
is a dress that's loose...
You left behind a cupboard full of advices
yet failed to warn that life is unpredictable...
It shouldn't be like this...
after all these years...
How long does it take
a day, a month, or even a full year...
I see iris's in my sleep,
as wind chimes blow upon...
If I bury my poetry
underneath Manila skies...
The ocean
reminds me of my father...
Friend, whose face
has not filled my eyes...
Your eyes had never
tasted the colors of spring...
I've been stirring around
this crowd of false pretense...
I remained sober for her eyes,
fire water never appealed to me...
My soul has become parchment paper.
Frayed, around a silhouetted frame...