my first memory of you: i was three we were on the phone the night before our birthdays. i asked, tatay, ano po'ng regalo ninyo sa'kin? you laughed. you teased me. chocolate cake from the carabao, noy. *** it was seven in the morning i was in my favorite overalls just after i poo-poo and showered …


you'd leave everything, you said wasn't i your everything? ©2018, Quiyet Brul


i still hide you in my poetry ©2018, Quiyet Brul


the blue in your eyes is an ocean i want to drown myself in ©2018, Quiyet Brul


a leaf on the branch a simple bulb blooming bigger each day turning a different hue drying yellowing billowing the inevitable ©2018, Quiyet Brul


your mouth became the sunken city of your promises   ©2018, Quiyet Brul


you still smell like how i remember you said when i don't even remember my own scent but yours changed it's the smell of nostalgia, mixed with the cigarette you smoked last night and the stench of the sin we made we are living our present the way we did in the past ©2018, Quiyet …


will people think of you after your death? for how long? will they remember it's your birthday five years from now? will they miss your smile and wit? will they see your eyes and hear your laughter in their sleep? will they feel you in the breeze when you become one with the air? for …


i am both living in the past and the future —— where the horizons meet in between —— i feel the pain of failure in the past along with the pressure from the future i'm anxious that people will leave in the future the way others did in the past. my heart lives in the …


i hear the ringing in my head synchronized to the beat of the clock hanged on the plain white wall and my thoughts sing as a choir    sometimes on sundays the lawn mowers join in so i try to block everything out    i count from one through ten in hopes of falling back …