Don’t. Just don’t. You’ll just end up being sick with my playlists or being deaf with the silence of mine. You’ll just end up regretting giving me foods for I’ll never ever eat those. And if you’ll insist, don’t. For life will only make you a fool. – Kath Panugan
Read moreAnd, it’s okay to be a blur sometimes.
It’s okay if you don’t see the signs like what others want you to do. It’s okay if you are torn between choosing the best or being the best in all aspects. It’s okay if you don’t shine when morning comes or sparkle when the dusk presents its stars. You are not a disaster, not…
Read moreYou are made of petals…
… anyone would dare to touch. You are as red as blood and as soft as lips. What a beautiful rose you are but he picked the sunflower. It didn’t make you less a flower. – Kath Panugan
Read moreMaybe in the poems,
I could possibly make myself stay — when there isn’t a place to go anymore. Maybe in the poems, I could show you how butterflies dance when they weren’t supposed to every time I see you. Maybe in the poems, I could tell you more about how sad songs turn you into a lullaby baby…
Read moreKeep that friend…
… who let you wear what you want for she knows you are comfortable with it. Keep that friend who buys you food every time you are craving or you are just hungry. Keep that friend who will get drunk with you and listen to your dramas until 6:00 AM. And keep that friend who…
Read moreIs it a faraway place?
I’d still think of a place where our poets hid a secret. Is it already the place where our poems never fall out of words again? I don’t know, darling — I’ve never been to that place either. – El
Read moreHow did I even become a prisoner of your yesterdays?
Today, I’ll stop sending letters and vintage photographs while pretending that I’m still in the ocean of your smiles. Today, I’ll walk away and never look back to the things we used to talk about but never made it to the horizon. Today, I’ll think about how loving myself feels much more than just loving…
Read moreSome nights feel like strangers.
There were nights when I’m a writer writing the first chapter There were nights, I’m a musician trying to learn 3 strums There were times, I’m a poet writing thousand of metaphors But a lot of time, I’m a peace after the war. – Kath Panugan
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