Early morning coffee with a friend at Starbucks in Pearl Drive. Too many realizations, but hey, this one is for you.
Dear AR2,
Emotional Masochism works like this you ignored me and I only liked you. It, perhaps, comes with the non-fulfillment and a desire to fulfill--at the very least, because I believe dissatisfaction is what makes affairs and love affairs more interesting. This is how you create want by holding back a smile or a conversation. It is silly how this is the way I sustain this fascination towards you and your great wit and bad hair and bad teeth.
I would like for you to know that I had a dream about you. All I could remember was us running from point A to point B under a deluge. Everything was in technicolor: greens, yellows and red light leaks. And your wrists and your ankles which perhaps is the reason why i am certain it was you I was dreaming of.
I would like you to know that I like you. And that is more than enough.
DK.
And only because my sister said: Bed Weather: Sleep Together this is a timely poem for today.
perhaps, every time you read this,
what it’s like to be a woman
no storm has been named after,
to be unfazed by the forecast
of foul weather, with these words
storming through the lightning-
stricken heart, writing up
a storm to weather your leaving.
Dear AR2,
Emotional Masochism works like this you ignored me and I only liked you. It, perhaps, comes with the non-fulfillment and a desire to fulfill--at the very least, because I believe dissatisfaction is what makes affairs and love affairs more interesting. This is how you create want by holding back a smile or a conversation. It is silly how this is the way I sustain this fascination towards you and your great wit and bad hair and bad teeth.
I would like for you to know that I had a dream about you. All I could remember was us running from point A to point B under a deluge. Everything was in technicolor: greens, yellows and red light leaks. And your wrists and your ankles which perhaps is the reason why i am certain it was you I was dreaming of.
I would like you to know that I like you. And that is more than enough.
DK.
And only because my sister said: Bed Weather: Sleep Together this is a timely poem for today.
Weatherbeaten
Naya Valdellon
By the time you read this, the week-
long typhoon will have moved
north towards the South
China Sea, as the weatherman
had predicted. They never change
course this time of year,
these tropical storms named
after fickle women—like migratory
birds, they never stay long
enough to learn local words
for love, steadfast to their wind-
blown language of rainbursts.
perhaps, every time you read this,
what it’s like to be a woman
no storm has been named after,
to be unfazed by the forecast
of foul weather, with these words
storming through the lightning-
stricken heart, writing up
a storm to weather your leaving.
Maintenance Hall, 4 am | Count Stars on the Ceiling

