“Cliché” by Daniel Garcia
I'm not
Romeo, and you're not Juliet.
I'm the
bear, and you're my honey.
Together, we are inseparable.
No mountain
can be as high as my love for you,
Nor any
ocean as wide as my love for you.
No one can
compete with what I feel for you.
You're the
sunshine in my eyes,
The soul of
my body.
I love you
with every limb of my body.
Through
thick and thin,
In sickness
and in health.
Until death
do us part, I'll be with you.
“Golden Scenery” by Axel Adame
A golden
scenery,
Plastering
on your face.
Asking if
you love me,
How about
our fate?
How can I
hide this still?
If your mere
smile is my kryptonite.
What are you
going to feel?
Saying among
all, you're the loveliest sight.
A golden
scenery,
We're both
looking at.
Singing the
soft melody,
Asking
myself many buts.
When I'm
with you, it's not just butterflies,
But a whole
zoo in my stomach.
When I'm
with you, my eyes—
Will always
be fixated on you even much.
Fooling
myself with the truth.
My friend,
this feeling is inevitable.
For you, I
don't want to lose—
Because you
are my golden scenery.
“Masterpiece” by Juzmine Rein R. Iguid
I can see
the reflection of the dazzling stars in your eyes,
No wonder
you are wanted by these other guys.
The feelings
that I have for you are as clear as the skies,
You are an
angel in disguise.
When I'm in
your arms, I know I'm in my safe haven.
And for
that, I'll make sure you're safe with me and nothing unwanted will happen.
Oh, baby,
I'm in heaven.
Since I’ve
been locked up in your love, I haven't wanted to go anywhere.
You, my
dear, are the colors that fill up my day.
I'm like a
blank page, and you put various kinds of creativity in me that I can't explain.
Wherever you
are, I'll go with you.
And we will
travel, and together we will grow.
I am now a
masterpiece, my love.
And I am now
a masterpiece because you're an artist filled with love.
I never
thought I could meet,
The man
who’d mean the whole world to me.
Did you
remember the days,
When we
strolled around and gazed
On the
clouds that our Creator made?
Darling,
that’s when I knew—
I wanted to
spend the rest of my life with you.
I loved the
view of seeing your face every morning.
The smell of
fresh dew,
Always
reminded me of you.
It gave me
joy that you chose me.
Out of all
of them, you saw me.
The day I
never expected,
That I’d
call you my love and my home.
You were the
one I ran to—
The key to
this heart of stone.
Living life
was like bliss,
As long as
you were right beside me,
There wasn't
a day I wouldn’t miss.
My love, my
life until the end.
“The Fallen” by Lorraine D. Villete
In the
crowded, hustling streets of Tokyo;
Divided between
power, and poverty;
Status—beliefs,
There you
and I,
Through
different locations; but in the same world,
We were
born.
We were
honored, both you and I.
We shared
equal things in this world;
From both of
our obnoxious quirks,
Intellect in
every aspect of the battle we faced,
Down to the
amount of trust we possessed within each other.
In this
mask, a hidden real man you should've known;
I was no
God, merely just the same as you.
We were both
humans.
After all,
Born in the
same place—gifted with such power,
Yet what I
didn't know was that I lacked the comprehension of yours in all things.
I was unable
to fathom the good and evil in between.
The harsh
denial stage I was set up with;
You and I,
whom I thought was the same;
Then, I
faced you with a raised hand as you walked away from me.
Set to
finish the wickedness;
But instead;
had set you free.
The
bittersweet air of an abandoned alleyway in Tokyo;
Never had I
thought it would go down to this,
In a pool of
unwanted crimson,
There was
the man with all that I could ever want;
You, who was
a monster so cruel,
The same
you, whom I would proudly describe to those who dared think otherwise—
You, my one
and only.
Born into
the same cruel world.
Different
status and beliefs.
One honored;
one fallen from grace.
But equally,
until the bitter end,
Held the
same trust.
Both men
until the end,
One who got
to live; the other with a smile so sweet at the brink of death.
Both of whom
never had the chance to proclaim their love,
“Arki” by Dane Navarro
Cupid did
not fail to do his job two years ago.
It was the
time that the blurry scenario of ours—
turned into
a high definition of 1080.
It was
clear, genuine, real, and concise.
The Arki
finally put his creative juices—
To a black
piece that had my initials in it,
An envelope
that was full of hope and promises;
I was able
to keep the penmanship, cursive, and script.
Yet unlike
Cupid, I failed to keep the Arki.
We all
romanticized self-love,
but choosing
ourselves was not a great deal at all.
It could
make us regret things.
And if fate
was already on our side,
Either love
could wait, or love made time;
I'd always choose to wait and to make time.
“The Honored” by Lorraine D. Villete
What
creature could you be to be so enticing yet mystified?
Built with
out-of-this-world features,
Eyes so
blue; on par with the ocean itself.
But if I
were given a chance to voice it out;
I'd say,
"You were more than beautiful."
With hair
snowy white, you were unrealistic;
The way I
saw myself beside you was my biggest mystery.
How did it
end up like this?
With your
hand that tightly gripped mine everywhere.
Reckless—didn't
care for anyone;
No sense of
value—always stood by his rights.
If anyone were
given the chance to describe you;
They'd say
how distasteful you were.
The voice
inside my head spoke as I let out a boisterous cackle;
My fate had
been sealed the moment my heart took control,
They were
right about you being so horrible,
But was it
so bad to say that those were the very reasons why I loved you?
You and I,
there was no denying it.
We were the
same; we were each other's person.
But
forbidden by the way things were; judgement, brutality, and cruelty.
Those words
would never be heard by you.
You know me
better than myself;
There was no
need to justify my wrongdoings when you knew more,
I had longed
to wipe those salty waters from your baby blues;
Knowing that
I was the cause of those.
I only
wished you knew two things as I sat there, nearing the end.
So
beautiful, you stood there—please never ruin your precious eyes with tears.
One was
lying when I said I could not smile and live in this life given to me;
For the last
time before I enter eternal slumber—
You made me
smile;
With my name
that rolled so perfectly from your glossy lips,
I was glad
you'd the one finish me—honored one;
For my
second and last thought, that in the next life, if I were given a chance to say
it,
"The world is cruel, yet I still love you."
“Red Scarf ” by Lorraine D. Villete
There was no
such thing as what they called, "Red String of Fate."
With somber
eyes, gazing out the gloomy outdoors;
When was the
last time it wasn't raining?
Perhaps
heavens felt my sorrow that they sobbed for me;
A woman who
had lost it all,
Here now, in
this old, abandoned cabin—
Alone.
Would they
say she was lucky to live,
Or would
they pity her for the deceased man she outlived?
With small
squeaks from the wooden floor;
Out she was
gone, not an umbrella or anything with her.
Just out she
was gone, bathed in the soft tears from above.
Small
children from afar, the polar opposite to her situation;
Both laughed
as they bathed in the rain;
No weather
could ever be gloomy as long as you made it through somehow, right?
In the field
of the glowing campanulas, they ran—
Reaching the
old, oak tree for shelter.
Though
distant giggled, the woman could still hear their delight;
One's she
wished to have once again.
What lovely
children—eyes filled with swarming adoration for each other.
"That
used to be us."
Finally, she
spoke with a hint of raspiness.
Cracked,
cold headstone on the ground;
Met with
eyes that could pierce through it as it taunted them with the engraved initials;
Initials of
he who was no longer to be spoken of.
As the clap
of thunder barely startled the grieving lady,
Hooked her
finger on the loop side of the scarf, then wrapped so religiously around her
neck;
The last bit
she'd ever have of him,
Not last
words or anything—just a scarf.
"I
don't believe this."
Red
scarf—from him to her.
And as if by
cue, it began pouring.
"Once
upon a time."
If we had
chosen otherwise;
We could've
been those children again.
But our
story ended,
When we chose
to be silent;
“Love Without Fear” by Jasmine Fiona Sanchez
Quiet
affection kept behind closed doors—
The poets
had tried to keep us a secret,
While the
damnation of hell
Continued to
gnaw off my right ear
As it chanted
again and again and again:
ILLICIT.
TABOO. DEBARRED.
Though, at
the very least,
The words
coiled together
And
dissolved into thin air
Whenever you
were near.
(Quickly,
now! Kiss me!
While God
still had his back turned around.
Tomorrow,
we'd have to pretend
That we did
not know of love
So He could
keep on looking after us.)
Shielded
affection, birthed under the protection of leaves—
Beneath the
shade of a sturdy oak tree,
Molded from
our own memories,
With our
hands settled across our thighs.
I had
wondered what was so wrong,
For wanting
our love to be bared;
For looking
at a girl the same way,
A wife
longed for a husband.
It was still
love, after all—
Your touch
that lingered in the pocket of my dress,
My eyes
looked at the shape of your lips for too long.
(Forgive me,
for they were merely an instrument
To the
imperishable want residing in my stomach.
Forgive me,
for I was selfish enough
to
experience hell
If it meant
I could continue wanting you.)
Brilliant
affection knocked on my window—
My eyes
began to blur from your luminance.
Perhaps it
had been a punishment,
For glancing
at you in the first place.
But you kept
on sprinkling imprints;
All over my
skin,
And that,
that part of you—
That part of
love,
And that
part of loneliness,
Still stayed;
Long after
my mother had told me
That we'd be
burned into ashes
If I
wouldn't remain untempt
To the
devil's advances.
(And I shall
pray to the God my mother loved,
I shall ask
Him for His lenience and your protection,
But I will
not ask for mine.
For even if
He stops loving me for my sins,
I will never
stop loving you.)
“In Cahoots with Satan” by Erica G. Ildefonso
Your eyes
will remain
A conundrum
to me.
How they
flicker gleams
Into my
gloomy days.
Yet, they
themselves,
Are
incantations of melancholy.
Abetting the
birth
Of thousand
butterflies,
I will let
you hold my hand still;
In comfort.
In
profoundness
Of heart,
warm and beating.
And your
lips,
Always
carved into submission,
Fibs I have
tasted
But never
lies:
For we are
Wiccans,
Plighting
our troth.
Your bosoms,
nurtured by spirits;
And your
mound, crafted by the gods;
Sprinkle
verve into my desiccated lands,
Whenever we
collapse into one.
Gone are the
days,
Wizened and
old.
But confound
it!
Confound the
Malleus Maleficarum.
Confound the
man;
Who hanged
our sisters,
Who burned
our sisters,
Who drowned
our sisters!
Their eyes
are a reflection
Of spite and
ignorance.
Their hands
are instruments,
For tying us
to Corda,
For their
hearts brimmed nothing,
But mere
haughtiness to women.
You ask me
now,
“How can
thou feel me
When our
skins are pricked with bodkins?
How can thou
love me
When our
mouths are fastened with branks?”
But, darling
let me say,
I love you
even more;
Despite the
jolting pain,
And their
virulent diatribes—
I love you
even more;
In our
warmth never illusive.
In our pact
never faltering.
—Let’s meet
again in another life.
“Philautia” by Lorraine D. Villete
Even with a
past so dark and so disturbing,
There was
still someone beneath those ruins.
Though many
knew how impulsive their actions could be;
There was
still the gentleness of all that was gentle within that.
Perfect
human beings were made up of flaws—
That was how
it was in words.
But you, you
had many flaws that were unable to be hidden from this world.
It had disrupted
people—made them treat you at your lowest.
It was
unloved; no person in their right mind would want to see you.
You weren't
the piece the world wanted;
But you were
someone that was needed for greater things.
Despite all
of the chaotic things you have gone through—
You were
still that girl who was capable of all things;
Capable of
being loved and giving love.
Through
these lines, I wrote a confession—
One you may
never come to accept;
Yes, you
were imperfect,
But
regardless of that, it was not the reason why I had been captivated.
I needed not
a mirror to define your features;
Nor a gossip
from one person to another—
They would
never know who you truly were through treacherous lies,
There was no
need for the goal of being "perfect."
The very bit
of your existence in my life was enough;
To be
enamored and explore every bit of you—
No walls to
block, no lies to hide.
Just bask in
the vulnerability of you.
The 'you'
that I would forever love.
“Engraved Hearts” by Juliana Agbulos
It was
neither forced nor coaxed.
It was
always unsolicited,
And could
make you gaze at the heavens in bewilderment.
I once
thought that it would only make you live in a world of make-believe,
Just like
what Austen and Brontë did.
But the
moment I heard the doves warbling,
I swiftly
knew that I was almost home.
Thou drowned
me in thy warmth under the moonlight,
While I
painted thee with colors I never knew existed.
The embers
of a galaxy in thine eyes,
Wordlessly
spoke the deepest darkness;
And divulged
the beguiling Albiorix living in thy soul.
With thee, I
didn't have to hide the thorns in my roses,
And that was
the most beautiful memory of our story.
“The Great King Alas and the Gorgeous King of Poetry” by Darein Catchillar
If I'm a
shotten poet, mourning for any meeds;
Being
tormented by my reflection's alack;
Being
amerced by my cruel head;
Like a
shackled hummingbird unable to fly across the hazy sky;
How do I
make your eyes glisten as though you're graciously loving me?
If you are
as lovely as the white daisies in a field full of comfort;
Being one
with the wind that does not mammer to slip around the sharps of ours;
Being
enclosed by the dearly wonders of each bee that plays around your head;
Like a
subject of a conversation that does not pall to shame or any burdens;
Why can't I
make fleshment from my lips that offer to kiss yours?
Nothing
pleases me but a picture of your smile.
When we
think love is not around,
I know it is
around.
And you can
love me even when I'm gone,
But I'll
always be around.
Nothing will
make me happier than to set foot on your humble land.
When I think
it's not enough,
You'll say
it is enough.
And I'll
love you when you're gone,
But know
that we're just around.
This hap in
the soil of our feet,
And the
setting of the sun when the moon comes around.
I know
you'll hide away your love from me,
But bate me
to have a glimpse of your artistic soul.
Your vessel
will always loof coming back to me.
And we'll
always love each other, even when we're down.
Indue us
when splendor isn't present.
We'll be our
own oasis of tranquillity.
When we are
at a loss for words to say,
Don't ever
think I'm not around.
Nobody has
ever seen a jocund beauty like yours.
It's almost
as though we're cold and we're each other's warmth;
And if this
is it, you may have my palace.
And you'll
be known as the Great King Alas.
There will
be no queen alongside you, only the Gorgeous King of Poetry.
If this love
is too poetic to flow right through our hands;
Being dupped
by its sincerity and dedication;
Being sanctified
by our twilled and veiled loving skins;
Like how we
cover our chests with clean garments;
What's the
great deal with your phantom if it's not coexisting with mine?
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