focus

this is not something literary

(an 18 year old girl needs to speak her mind. and oh yes, her heart too. yes, she has a heart. can't believe it? well, i was also surprised when she clutched her chest with pain. she felt pain. there. she said it throbbed like hell. then she realized that love isn't totally abstract, that it has a manifestation: pain. she wonders what anatomy has to do with feelings. now she has to deal with it, since "everything is suffering" already. she has to take part of the world's suffering. it was nobody's fault. but she can't help blaming herself - you know, the usual. funny, isn't it? it's gonna happen again. and she's certain that it's gonna end up the same anyway. hopelessness. what a shame. now, let's hear what she has to say.)














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paalam

sa(lamat)











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Believe Me, It Was Already Two Years Ago

It's always hard to begin
conversations with you.
We both stand on the seashore,
side by side. Silent
waves devour the sand
underneath our feet.
I look down, somehow hoping
that the water will reveal
long-lost things in the sand:
a birthday card, a withered
white rose, our friendship
bracelets, a couple of
years worth of words.
But it didn't. And we'd rather
have ourselves cherish this stillness
than to dwell on the ruins
of our yesterdays.
So we stand on the seashore,
side by side, neither beginning
nor ending.




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