(v) to take a break, to clear one's head; "to walk in the wind."

Month: July, 2015

Since We’ve Met

I memorized all the stoplights and mini-store corners of this place

But it was a happenstance of wonderment

Stumbling upon this particular house called You.

You were but four walls

And I never bothered peeking through the glass windows.

Either have I not regretted my compass leading me north

Because since then, I never wanted to look back.

I have flown across hues of pink and blue

But none of them were anything quite like you.

I tried reading you.

But people weren’t maps.

So I allowed myself to go on an adventure instead.

So far I have discovered dark graveyards

And leaves falling from their branches.

But I would do anything to bring you life again.

I wanted to explore you.

I wanted to get lost in you.

I was willing to plunge myself into the oceans

And drown myself in all your thoughts.

Drown me in all the things you fear-

And I will turn your shipwreck into something beautiful.

We were made up of different dust particles

But constellations can always be connected.

So go explore the worlds in me.

Just as I have found my home-

It’s you.

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“Wishful Wednesdays”

An old lady came over to your house every Wednesday. Wednesdays were when I would sit down on my front porch and hear misplayed piano keys and frustrated groans coming from your living room. It’s already the 10th Wednesday of the year; and I have heard the same Titanic piece being played over and over again but you still never got it right. Darling, you kept forgetting that you don’t hit that E note once. It’s twice. I wish I could run over there and guide your fingers to perfection but the best I could do was admire your beautiful mistakes from a distance.

Whenever I would hear footsteps walking down your front door, I’d rush inside my house and watch from outside my window as you said goodbye to your teacher. She must have had experience on a lot of children or grandchildren because I don’t think anyone would have that much patience to try and teach you piano. It still makes me laugh how your mother made you take up piano after your great grandfather because everybody knows that you would die trying to play even just the triangle. You were never a musician, just very athletic.You always look like you did a 10K run after every piano session when in reality, your track practice was only on Fridays. Your weariness never stopped you from waving back with a smile and I always admired how you were like that around people. You walked back inside your house and I pulled down my curtains as I wondered why I knew so much about you, when I never found the courage to be friends with you.

An Excerpt from a Story I’ve Never Written



Hand-in-hand we walked together down the block. I felt safe like this. It felt safe like this. There was a difference between being together and being together. And I was lucky that with you, I had both. We were about to cross the pedestrian when you stopped abruptly. I didn’t know why. I squinted my eyes and my gaze was fixed on someone across the street. A brunette with ratty hair and skinny jeans. I looked up at you knowingly. But your stare was straight ahead.

A slight smile spread across your face and for some reason, you looked relax. It was that look– probably that feeling, you got when you’re dreading a text, an email, from someone important to you. You wait even longer; and the dreadful feelings continue getting stronger. But then the other person replies. And you sigh with relief as your face slowly turns calm. It was like carrying a huge boulder on your back, and that person carefully lifting it off of you. Because you know that with that reply; everything is all good now. Everything is okay.

“Hey,” you said. “I know her!”

And I always wondered why you stopped for her and why you smiled for her and why you didn’t say “I knew her.”


Months have passed and people still ask me if I still love you. Every time I get asked this question, a thousand memories flash before me in a millisecond. It was like flipping through old photo albums in fast-paced. And then suddenly, I remembered us. Our memories like a montage etched at the back of my mind. But regardless of everything, I always know how to respond. Reality hurts you, I know. I’m sorry. But it is what is true. It’s always been “I did.”

You broke my heart and yet you still wonder why I no longer say “I do.”

– An Excerpt from a Story I’ve Never Written

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