Love is in the details

It hurt. This impulse that I had to memorize every little detail I could about you in that stolen hour. Because you made it clear the moment I sat down–you didn’t want a repeat.

I felt your eyes on me buoyed by the silence, taking me all in–memorizing every inch of skin, the gossamer chain resting on my neck, the navy pinstripes of my dress, and when I finally felt safe to look, your wave ebbed and it was my turn to flow all over you. I remember the color you wore–something I never would’ve thought you’d choose. But then I was relying on what I knew of you before. It didn’t matter–that day you were a stranger, yet so dear to me at the same time. I wanted hours to know you all over again and more.


I’ve never been more conscious of eating and using cutlery before–never counted every bite and chew, or contemplated swallowing. Every second was precious, and yet, wasted.


I found my footing at the details that never changed–the way your lips would curl when you’re trying to keep laughter from coming out, but it still spills, anyway. And the way you’d turn your head when you couldn’t look at me anymore–I could feel your blush, and I’ve always found that so cute and endearing. It’s so you.

There are just some things you can’t keep hidden no matter how hard you try. Even the ones you’ve buried for over a decade. Secrets you hold sacred and close to your heart. Parts of you that nobody else knows. Not because they would expose the real you, but because their light blinds you and you’re scared of what could happen when they’re all out in the open.


I keep thinking of your hands–slim fingers connecting to slim wrists and how they would feel interlaced with mine. I remember the warmth, the certainty, as they rested on my back in that unexpected but welcome embrace. It felt like home.


I was holding out for something–a parting touch, an embrace. I was yearning for it, was sure enough to expect it. But you already turned away from me, and as I waited for my ride home, I couldn’t keep the tears anymore and I couldn’t even tell anyone why. I’ve just been witness to my first real heartbreak.


I learned to let go because denial does not define you and how I feel for you. It’s not the last thing I want to remember you by. It’s not something I regret. Because I discovered that love is not all about the other person, not about getting what you want the way you want it and when you want it. That’s ego steering the wheel. Love is being and accepting. It’s accepting who you are at the moment, who the other is at that moment, living in your authenticity and expressing your love however you can.

And I did just that. I drank from the cup until only the dregs were left and I let it refine me–into someone with an inner strength and light I never thought was in me all along.


I still think of you and I still feel our love. It’s a part of me already–one of the best bits.

Brave Heart

In all my 34 years of living, I have done a few brave things. My friend would argue and tell me that I’ve done a lot of reckless things in my youth, which is different from being brave. Or she would tell me, “Mas matapang ka naman talaga eh.” Or this, my favorite comment at the moment: “Hindi ka naman talaga ‘docile’ eh”. I just laugh at them all because they’re true.

But the bravest thing I have done so far is finally being honest with myself–realizing, accepting, and admitting to myself even though I don’t fully understand all of it and despite being afraid of it sometimes–this pulsating truth that I love you. That I looked for you once, years before, among unfamiliar faces, that those few chance encounters I tried to chalk up to just random and meaningless when I really wanted the opposite, that time stopped for me when I finally saw you again, that I had to will my rabbit’s heart to calm down and just go for it–talk to you and give you that letter. It was many moons ago, but my heart flutters anew at the memory. And probably to top it all of, the bravest thing of all is this–letting you know through what I do best–writing down the whispers of my soul, that I love you, still. ♥

Faith and Stardust

F A I T H is trusting in something or someone without tangible proof that the trust you are giving will pay off. You just know and believe that it feels right to invest your trust even when everyone else around you disagrees and tells you it’s only an illusion, that it’s a crazy childhood fantasy and not worth giving your heart to.

But your soul would never let you rest. The more your heart yearns for it, the more you are emboldened to fight for it. And you are never alone. The Universe / God is cheering you on, showing you the way if you listen to the yearning, believe in the signs, and follow the compass within.

I have never known this kind of faith until I saw you again. Out of all the things you unraveled from me, faith in this love is the best discovery. It has reminded me who I am, what I am made of–stardust, the Universe and infinite possibilities, light. We’re mirrors of the love we have in each other.

And it’s something I continue to treasure and fight for every day. 🌟


You need to be made of sterner stuff, dear, before you can be ready to build a life with someone you love.

Love is not always lounging on a queen-sized bed during the weekends and making coffee the way she likes it. There will be days when the coffee spills and she’s late for work, and nights when you refuse to sleep on the same bed, just to prove a point. There will be times when you’ll do the opposite of what she tells you not to, just to get a rise out of her, and times you’ll be so frustrated with her stoic silence, you’d want to wring her neck.

No one ever said love was easy, but it’s also a rarity to find someone willing to dive into the darkness with you, and glide through the thoughts that cripple, and the words that ruin if you let them. All the things you sweep under the rug and never talk about unless the rug is bunching up already, you can’t hide the dust mound any longer.

I am telling you now, it would be the stormiest night before our dawn
And hardships would be twice the load of normal
I know all these things before they even come
What I want to know now is am I made of sterner stuff?
And are you?
I would need unlimited supply of patience and compassion to make room for you,
To reassure you every day that my love doesn’t end in the words I write,
It fights to live in moments when to trust is to risk everything we’ve known
And meet the aftermath, hands clasped together
But I’m your poison apple, your weakness, they’d whisper into your ear,
The one thing that’ll ruin your ambition
And with little thought you’d drop me like a hot potato on asphalt
I wouldn’t know what hit me before I got up

If you can’t be strong on your own, might as well be content to tell yourself, yes I love her, but I’m not brave enough to build my love a home. Then let go. Release it to the wind. Instead of fumbling around in a playhouse of sticks that crumbles at the slightest pull.