Monthly Archives: March 2014

“Melting Fire”

It’s been months. No, years. It’s been years since I last saw her. That smile, those eyes. The way she seemed to radiate the very rays of the sun whenever I see her never ceases to captivate me. I remember when we were still close with each other, no barrier whatsoever between the two of us: I used to lie, my head on her lap. As I looked at the ceiling of the room she would caress my hair. It felt good, like the warmth of a mother towards her child. Then she would always tease me with my imperfections, and I in return would remind her of her flaws, and then we would laugh together as if our frankness was the sweetest thing we said to each other. I long for those kind of days.

Ever since our ways parted — Me, choosing a different course than hers, it never felt the same. Of course I still remember her name, but what is a name without its beautiful muse? I crave for the day I will hear her voice once again. I yearn to see her smile and her eyes one more time. I long for her caressing hands on my hair. If only these were to be made possible even for just a second. I would cherish that second more than my lifetime of existence…

Maybe you can call it infatuation, but still, it’s where the greatest love begins, right? Now, that love seems to be fading away as each day passes. Oh cruel fate! don’t let the eternal flame sizzle into oblivion!…

I know that maybe even before we met, you don’t deserve me… You deserve someone better. So why can’t I relieve myself of these tormenting burden? I know it’s not your fault. But how can I mend the pieces of my broken heart if a piece is missing?… Tell me! Tell me before I drown in my own sadness.

Without YOU, Death can come whenever he wants.



3:33 P.M.

She called…

I answered…

We agreed to meet at the same coffee shop earlier.

“I am so excited!” — she said.

“See you later.” — I replied.

8:13 P.M.

We met… we talked.

She had fun.

10:45 P.M.

We went to my house…

I poured some wine… and something else.

She fell asleep at the first sip…

I looked at her for a second… Her eyes. Her lips. Her neck. Her black hair. Her red dress.

11:03 P.M.


3:33 A.M.

I knelt…

I prayed…

I went to sleep…

8:13 A.M.

I passed by the same coffee shop…

Sirens, flashes of red and blue…

A crowd was huddled at the door frame…

Cops asking the question: “Where is she?”

I whispered to myself, “Forgive me!”

“Dead of the Nite”

Horizon, the fire ball sets
its rays in an unseen dimension.
Streaks of gold and red,
dancing in the sky with malicious
thoughts of the morrow.
Killing the sky cottons with
deafening silence, She rises
with luminous grace to turn the tides.
Splashes from the watery curse of the heavens
wet the earth to its cold core. Lo! how the
Lark spoke of her arias —
those of remorse for the once before…
phantoms of the past who grovel at their pits
to obtain the Holy Grail.

Their whispers echo through the voiceless night,
piercing our solitude — Despair!
Immobile wanderers of the dark never
hearing our wails, appalled by their lifeless breaths
of hopeless regrets —

Oh what pitiful Deaths!