Awash

The words we refused to utter.
The questions left unanswered.
The laughter unheard.
The smiles unseen.
The kiss that ignited.
The touch that set aflame.
We carry them in boxes
small and quaint,
beautifully decorated
to conceal, to mislead
the darkness they contain.
What of these, you ask.
Nothing, I whisper.
And that is how things are with us.

---
Reposting from Hushed Hysterics, my other writing repository. Online carbon imprint has increased exponentially. Oh my.

A tiny break

Into my breathing latching
as I catch a glimpse of you
and with you
what could have been what
we would have been
had we not
walked away.

---
Nothing sort of masturbatory. What I doodled after hearing Imago's haunting lyrics:

“Permiso sa isang araw na makasama ka. Abiso ng pusong bulag na humahanga. Tama bang aminin na nating may taning tong pag-ibig natin, dakila man walang kasaysayang kakapit sa bulag na pag-ibig.”

What?

Since you know what you're doing (and don't you dare second-guess yourself because when it comes to you, you are quite right and no one knows you better than you do), yours is not a question of what they think and making a passable life out of what you have working for you.

It's a question of setting your own standards and soaring way above them.