I’ve signed a contract.



the paper was poured

with words,

stained by blue;

by blues.

There are million reasons

to not let my hand move

and to not let the ink

embroid changes,

so huge changes,

my heart’s not equipped

to reject



It wasn’t your surface;

It wasn’t the way you shine;

It wasn’t your glimmering dust;

nor your striking sight


I lied.

It was you,

it was everything about you,

my typical confusion.



I’ve signed a contract.


“I like the moon. It wasn’t hard to be enthralled by its beauty even from immeasurable distance.”



You look so strong

as if you never slept

with a tear-stained face

and a soul so scarred

—a heart so scared


You let your eyes transmute

into thin curve lines whenever

you smile

as if nothing was missing

You are filled with glistening dust

—and the blinding vivacity of sparks

I was gravely searching

even for un-lustrous stars

to offer an add up to your museum

and unceasingly restore those shining eyes

But as much as I intend to,

I recalled that,

the only One who can complete

the starry night within you

is the One who created







“Shine, always.”


For some

and for some people,
it does not need to be breathtaking;
no, it does not need to be a
grand entrance;
no scenic sights
nor pleasing beats;
for quite a few, it is merely
collecting all the happy thoughts
gathering all the wails and cries
with shush and whispers

and for some people,
it does not need to be breathtaking;
when burning brightly
or collapsing;
it is merely
kneeling on your knees
with undisturbed heart
and soothed bones
that undeniably aches
solely for its

“My home lies within a heartbeat on the cross.”


The very first letter I wrote to myself

I’m sorry.

Life has been so tough lately that everything seems nothing but nonsensical. There was a weird rhythm in the singsong of your heart. It was battered, bruised and broken. All that could be heard was the deafening noise of nothingness and fullness at the same time. I’m so sorry you had endured all these heartaches, all these howls and cries. I’m sorry you had kept searching your worth and value at the wrong havens. I’m sorry that you had to end your life each night and kept having delusions of a better tomorrow. I’m sorry you had to pull down your walls and give each one of them the entry ticket only to have your eyes witnessed the downfall of the gem inside you. I’m sorry, for I had never protected you from everything that hindered you from growing into the woman that your Creator conceptualized you to be. I’m sorry for the wounds –the scars written in your flesh, deep within, in the cavern of your soul. I’m sorry for not always allowing your Master to heal those. I’m sorry for being so stubborn. I’m sorry that you have to endure every single day of embracing this wretched soul. I’m sorry that I didn’t teach you the concept of happiness. I’m sorry that you heard nothing but my rants and whimpers, my insults and abuses. I’m sorry for letting my own words abolish your self-esteem and self-confidence. I’m sorry for binding you with the notions such as “You are worthless.”; “You are untalented.”; “You are ugly.”; “You can never make it.”; “You are unlovable.”; You are worth scarring for.”; “You deserve hate.”; “You can’t.”. Forgive me for telling you all the otherwise’s of God’s truth. I’m sorry for blocking His words –words that should have given you life. I’m sorry, I have damaged you so much that you are no longer amazed in your waking-hours. I’m sorry for giving you… death.

I’m proud of you.

It was so rare for me to say this but, yes I am. I am proud not merely by your strength but by your vulnerability. It’s hard to show your weakness, but you let it flow to the shore where people can play it, where people can use it as something worth using. I’m so proud that you have learned to surrender people to God; that you have learned the idea of letting go –slowly losing grasp and letting the Lord lead the way. I’m so proud of you, and there were days that I wasn’t, or maybe tomorrow or the next day, I’m no longer cheering for your progress.

But I want you to remember that the story–our story–isn’t predominantly our story. I’m no perfect. I’m no angel. I can take this all back even after just a minute of utterance, but again, my words are not the arguments that matters –it was His, it is His and will forever be His. I can’t still formulate I love you but He can, always.

All the forces in the universe can’t love you the way God does.

That’s more than enough. 


I’d let Myself shatter into million possible pieces; burst out and partake My ashes to be lunar dust—be fragments of the moon to light your way back. My ruination; your completion.


Once , we try to be heartless,
But even with our utmost power;
We failed.
We always end up loving.
And maybe that’s the sole
purpose we serve—
To love,
To always love;
even the hardest,
the difficult,
the denial.

“Love like Me.” said He



He’s the air in my lungs;
And the word in my tongue;
He’s every chapter of my favorite book;
He flattens my edges that were crooked;
I was the lost piece;
Longing for direction;
He led me back to my completion;
He’s my destination.



He is;

my first dauntless step,

away from the comfort

of the four-cornered cage;


He is, as well

my favorite

looking back bend

–over and over,




He is;

a beautiful adventure,

that makes me

want to try;


He is, also

the smell of my bed

where I find rest,

eraser of cries

and they said;


tend to

follow the


to its


“Lead me







Intersecting Point

i saw you looking
tracing your fingers to the sky,
with the whole scenario,
there was
something missing.
your eyes
they have no shimmer.

i want to
refurbish the radiance
but you were seemingly drifting,
into an infinite galaxy,
into a black hole of thoughts.

i whispered,
i prayed,
that you’d look past
the constellations
you were trying to make
‘cause the One behind those stars
is making the ‘you’
that will outshine
the battle within you.

“meet Him at the intersecting point of you and the stars.”



I dreamt of you last night. You were looking somewhere. Your eyes were glistening. Your eyes couldn’t contain much of the galaxy that desiring to surge out. You were greatly devoured by something splendid, something delightful. Your soul was glistening with hues of rainbows and sparkling dust. Then I tried to take a stride, to be nearby. But, I failed, as my body felt the crystal wall. Out of my ware, I beaten it with all my strength, trust me that I tried, struggling my way towards you, while you were there, standing and spellbound with the exquisiteness of everything. “That is not your paradise my dear.” I heard a voice, a Manly voice. The familiarity of it made me feel the serenity that I was yearning for, the calmness that has long vanished when you gave nothing but insanely beats. “But…” I was about to protest. “Here is where you should be. Trust me.” It was painful, but hearing the words from Him mended the gashes that were about to be molded. My gaze traveled back to the other side of the crystal wall, and you were there. Not minding the other part of where you were, the portion where I was in.

I dreamt of you last night. You were looking somewhere. Your eyes were sparkling. But those glimmers weren’t made for me. “You are not my paradise.”



When the world I made stops gyrating

And my core stops screaming

I will straightly look at you



–that I’m no longer aching


Mapaghangad ba ‘kong iisipin?

Dalanging ang bawat berso ng awit mo’y para sa akin

Masyado bang mapag-angkin?

Kung patuloy na hihiligin;

–ang pagkatok mo’t pagdating


My metamorphosis

Was by your smile;

Those curves, I seize

In my heart, it fits


You weren’t made to fill my gaps

Seeing you with someone else, I lost my gasps

You weren’t made for my grasps

I don’t have mask

Oh you;

Lethal gas


Minamanipula ako ng ‘yong mga tawa

May kung anong kirot, parang pagtama ng bala

Kung pwede lang hulihin ang pagsulyap, sige ako na ang may sala

Ikaw lang kasi;

Ang paborito kong hiwaga