How lucky you are.

How lucky you are
When you find someone
Who also likes the way your coffee is made
Laughs at your jokes even though they aren’t funny
Has fondness for you that is eternal
And how lucky you are also
If you don’t have that someone
You have all the time to improve yourself
Find what you really want in life
And do the things you desire
Just because you’re in love, doesn’t mean you’re always lucky
And just because you aren’t, doesn’t mean you’re hapless
It’s all about perception and your own apprehension
Of what you have and what you don’t have.

— H.L.



She is as soft

as a cotton feather.

And as sensitive

as a baby’s skin.


But deep down,

Lies a monstrous soul.

Suppressing everything,

It grew to be mean.


The mask she wears
For other people’s pleasure

Hides the darkest corners

Of her mind.


At the crack of dawn,

The cover cracks like glass.

And starts to unleash,

The demon behind.


Now awake,

A little groggy.

It’s as if the monster

Had left her being.


But no one knows,

It’s always there.

Evermore, underneath,

Slowly breathing.


Battling the demon

Has always been tough.

They think she’s okay,

Assuming as always.


They’re not cognizant

Of what she actually deals with

A constant battle

That’s been going on for days.


Or weeks.

Or years.


Midnight Talking

You lie awake at night, 

asking the same thing.
Is this right,
to feel everything?


The voices don’t cease,
as if they’re playing automatically.
It’s hard to feel bliss,
the voices saying, “Can’t you be kind to me?”


Feeling melancholy,
you tell yourself that it’s okay.
Is this where you should be?
To live helplessly everyday?


One voice whispered, “Hey, shouldn’t you be gone?”
You retorted, “Do you think so?”
And it replied, “Should I give you a reason?”
So you pondered, should you go?


The clock strikes half past one in the morning,
But you are restive as you lie.
You await for people’s awakening,
and look forward for midnight to die.


Until then, agony becomes your friend.
Death becomes your acquaintance.
Life becomes your enemy.
Yourself is what you pity —


Until midnight reaches its end.



A magnet attracts a non-metal

I let my walls down 

For a guy who wouldn’t bring me up.

He said he likes girls who like pink;

But I’ve always liked black.

He searches for the sunrise, 

While I await for the twilight.

I let my feelings flow

For a boy who wouldn’t let go of his past.

I love his smile,

But he hates his own smirk.

He prefers his coffee plainly brewed,

I want mine with milk.

I spend my time alone;


He spends his in a bar;


But lastly…

I was attracted to a magnet, 

But I was non-metal.

I knew I stood no chance.

I still had my hopes,

My wishes, my dreams.

But, alas, I accepted it;

He will never be mutually attracted to me.


Pagod. (Tagalog Poem)

Dapat ipikit

Ang maririkit

Mong mga mata;

Ipahinga at saka muling magsimula.


Ihaon mo ang yong kamay,
Sapagkat ito’y nangangalay.

Huminga ka,

At ipahid ang mga luha.


Utak mo’y nangingilo

Litong lito, hilong hilo.

Pagod sa buong araw

Na pag-aaral; hanggang sa ito’y umapaw.


Bibig mo’y nanginginig,

Di maintindihan ang tindig.

Maputla at tuyo,

Mula sa buhay na kinalbaryo.


Mararamdaman mong

Nawawalan ka na ng pulso.

Makakibo, ay di magawa

Pagiging uto-uto ang naging pag-asa.


Pagod at lungkot

Patuloy na sumulpot.

Mga pangarap ay dumidilim,

Nararamdama’y kinikimkim.


Pagod ang nagsilbing kumot
Kasama ng kaba at takot.

Sarili’y di inalagaan,

Buhay patuloy na pinabayaan.


“House” not “Home”

I am raised by my parents
Sometimes they’re there
Sometimes they weren’t
And when I grew older
I woke up into reality
A nightmare so horrifying

One day I’d hear mom and dad arguing
About something that isn’t worth fighting
I’d be on my bed all night
Trying to choke down the tears that are coming
I question myself “Is this what you call a family?”
Nothing but fights, lectures and feeling suffocated?

I should be grateful I have a house to live in
But I cannot consider it a home like yours
Because a home consists of happiness and contentment
Ours is rather dark, mad and broken

And when I’m lucky, my parents get along well
They’d laugh about anything and talk in a mild tone
And in those moments I started to genuinely smile
I felt like I could finally call this place “home”

But then grey skies poured over the earth
Everything was back to “normal”
Back to the old routines of our shattered selves
And I would cry myself all over again
Like I did in days like these

One question lingers my mind
As I stay inside this destroyed house of ours
How can you feel so incomplete
when you were intact in the first place?


I used to like moonlight over sunlight
But long since I met your soul that day
I preferred breakfast over dinner
I opt for the sun more than the moon
When I beheld a vibrant art such as your face
I knew I was in trouble
Because how do you compare a piece of art like you
To me? An art that is demoralized, hollow and crestfallen


Seasonal changes.

It’s summer
The brown leaves fell off the trees
In unison with how I fell for you.

It’s halloween
The kids are terrified of horror movies
As much as how terrified I am of losing you.

It’s winter
The streets are filled with snow and the breeze is cold
Kind of like how you talk to me now—cold and blunt.

It’s all souls day
The day to remind us of the people who are dead
But in my state, it’s a day to evoke that you and what
we used to have is long dead and gone