i
                                               t      n
                                           o             g
                                        o                     
go and catch a shhhh                             star

Despite the talk and chatter,
the laughter and giggles--
I find there is quiet in the noise,
just me and my mind in a silent room.

There’s something about late September
that makes me want to text people
I only miss when I’m too tired to lie.

There’s a moth in my mouth again.
I try to sing and it *****.

Some nights I rehearse conversations
with people I haven’t forgiven.
Some of them are alive.
Some of them are me.

I keep a list of people
I swore I’d stop dreaming about.
I keep dreaming anyway.

I talk to no one
like they’ll answer differently this time.
I wake up with a wingbeat
pressed into the backs of my teeth.

I think I’m leaking
something no one taught me how to name.
It leaves stains on my straws
It fogs the mirror before I do.
It answers to my voice
but only when I’m not using it.

There’s something about late September
that makes everything feel returned,
but not forgiven.
I don’t text them.
I let the silence say maybe I meant to.

and every night
in quietest hour
I'm dreaming of a cosmic shower

the stars will shine
as night time falls
and paint the sky in shapes and noise

which we can't touch
and cannot hear
yet love wholeheartedly and real

Long ago, I opened my heart.
I let someone in.
They didn't quite fit though.
So I paused, and then promptly expanded my chest,
Expanded my heart to fit in your love.
It didn't work out, but my heart was now too big to be shattered.
I was still so full of hope that I refused to let go.

I put a sign out that said:
“All welcome.”

And someone came in with sunshine and cheer, an enthusiasm I wasn't expecting.
And yet again, they couldn't fit.
So I expanded my heart once more.
Pushed out from the inside
To let them fully in.
But while I was under renovations, the doorway swung shut.
They were barred from the door.
There's only room for one in here and I haven't fully moved out the ants,
They crawl and creep and fester and weep.
So I pulled on my mask and pulled out the poison.
Ready to **** anything and everything in sight.
To destroy every crack and crevice, filling it with hate,
Ready to be done with the festering creatures.

But was disrupted by a little knock.
I suppose I never took the sign down.
The sun wasn't in sight and the former prospect was gone.
Only the silver rimmed clouds and it was starting to rain.

The fat heavy drops that drowned out the sorrow.
Made it feel a little cozy inside.

But standing there in the soft quiet rain.
A boy.

Waiting to see me.

Maybe he was always there.

Maybe he’ll never leave.

But I opened my door and stepped into the rain.

I dont think I’ve ever felt soft drops on my skin,
Don't think I’ve ever felt something so real, something so fresh.
And it didn't matter that the sun was gone because a light shone from your heart so bright.

Too bright.

Too good.

I should've known it was all a lie.
A web waiting to catch those innocent flies.

But I will never complain, for the ants moved out the day that you knocked.
Maybe they knew the rule about one.

They shuffled out the door single file.

And yet when I went out to invite you out of the rain,
When I stood aside to let you come in,
You pulled away.
Only ever so slightly, a miniscule flinch.

You peered round and called it beautiful.
You made my little heart feel ever so special.

But it wasn't special enough.
And so the boy in the rain chose the rain over me.

Sometimes I hear him calling my name.
I don't know if it's him or only a shadow,
But it lights my heart with a small fire, and fills it with a stifling heat.
It feels like a way of drawing me out.
Into the rain.
To let it slide down my cheek.
Fall over my brows and into my eyes, then down to my lips.
Occasionally I step outside, just to see.
If any of it is real.
And there seems to be a melody that whispers on these nights.
A soft little tune.

And the rain turns to you, and then,
It's you sliding a finger down my cheek.
Pressing my shirt to my chest.
Running your hands through my hair.
I’ve never felt so alive.

But then, almost as fast,
I twirl around and you're gone.
In a small little flash.

So I run to my heart and throw open the windows and doors,
In case you decide to stop by.
And dance a little as lightning flashes by.
To my own little tune that I invented just for you.

But soon, the rain stopped, and there was still no sun.
Just endless grey clouds threatening to come in.

So I put my heart on display and now people walk by, and occasionally pop in for a second or two.

To look around the massive shell I have in my chest.
Some press their ears to it to see if they can hear the ocean.

They don't know that the only echo of water around,
Is the dried tears that I spilt, all over the ground.

I suppose the clouds eventually got in,
But the shadow of the downpour never quite left enough room for two.

People stand and wave a safe distance away, and maybe the blanket of clouds is a blessing, and a cover from the sun.

And maybe the sun was forever waiting behind a blanket of grey.
Maybe I was only waiting till night when I could pull back the clouds and reclaim the sky.
Decorate it with fully formed constellations. Maybe I was destined to find shapes and meaning when there was none.
And maybe that is why I could never let it be night.

But it cannot always be day.

And as times turn,
my heart starts to feel awfully hollow,
And my head is full to bursting.
Praying on repeat,
For the rain to come again.

But forevermore, my heart shall be ruled by the final ant that won't leave, and the shadow of a boy who never intended to stay.

The crack in the sidewalk is my only comfort.
We've become friends overtime,
I tell her about the bottles and beer cans,
so lost I forget about the aches and pains.

She knows it's bad when I'm quiet.
I sit with the dark and listen to my sobs echo,
the rain can't drown out my thoughts.
The crack in the sidewalk is my only comfort.

Sometimes I go weeks without seeing her,
my identity drifts softly away with the tide.
Confused, I am too weak to find ground,
maybe it's best I cannot be saved.

The water leads me to my friend,
I shiver yet I cannot feel the cold.
She tells me that she's here for me,
the crack in the sidewalk is my only comfort.

Sometimes love isn’t loud.
It doesn’t always arrive with flowers,
or surprise visits,
or hours spent side by side.

Sometimes,
it’s in the late replies that still feel warm.
In the tired voice that still says “I love you.”
In the silence that doesn’t feel empty
because we know—deep down—we’re still choosing each other.

It’s in a random meme sent at 2AM,
just to say, “I saw this and thought of you.”
In a soft “pagod ako,”
not as a complaint, but as a quiet letting in—
letting me be part of your exhaustion.

It’s in the everyday check-ins:
“kumain ka na?”
“nakauwi ka na ba?”
Not just questions,
but little reminders that say:
I care. I’m with you. Even from far away.

It’s in the way we stretch time,
make space,
find light in the middle of our chaos.
In the way you pause your busy day
just to make me feel remembered.

Love, for us,
isn’t always about presence—
it’s about intention.
It’s about showing up
in small, quiet ways
that matter more than anyone else sees.

We’re not always available.
But we’re always trying.
And that trying,
that choosing,
even in between work, sleep, and everything in between—
that’s where love lives.

Because even when we don’t say much,
even when we’re tired, busy,
or miles apart—
I still feel you.
And somehow,
that’s more than enough.