Afterglow

This is the hour we are farthest

from God, isn’t it. But we

have long stopped believing

in Him. Only heaven – this. Ours,

 

now. Since it seems we

are stuck, how about

you tell me what you know, and

how we got here, for I

am too afraid to ask?

 

Say then, something

about distance, and how someone

once told you to never

look back, but you did. Otherwise,

 

I would have remained

a strange face in a classroom

you never really belonged to.

 

Stay still, when, if

we finally run out of words.

Try again, pull me in, as if

you’ve always had.

 

And later on, forget —

like you always do.

——

18th June, Monday. Written on a bus headed to Cubao, during a traffic jam from hell. Putangina, late na ‘ko.

Yes, for K.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s