Pluviam

when does someone pause in writing?

hala may sinusulat nga pala akong collection noong June... 🤐

...

You were like an umbrella that I do not have with me when the rain is pouring; you are always gone when I need you the most.

📸: Arnoud van Mosselveld

Life can be silent, as death also is. Today a petal was blue; tomorrow it will already have lost its hue. The saddest thing about this is that life is just remembered when it is already taken.

Flowers never speak about how sometimes wind destroys them; they are still standing, yet sometimes they bend down. Stare at them, and you’ll never guess how detached they are from where they were planted. Sometimes, we appear as flowers do. No matter how we relay what we feel by letting our petals fall, we will just be here. We will just be planted here.

We will never know what kills a flower when all we see is how it lives. Never step on them and pick their petals out, for we do not know how their roots are dying just so they can bloom.

A life that is often questioned leads one to think death might be its answer.

📸: weheartit

You can’t treat someone as a seed and at the same time expect them to bear fruit. Words actually either bring life or death. I assume you have no clue how much torturing you have done by taking away her paddle, yet you want her to make it out of her boat.

You can’t just let someone lose their breath as waves conquer them and expect them to make it to the shore alive.

Do not let someone feel that they are robbed of freedom as you let them feel imprisoned in your hands that are actually out of touch.

📸: Torehegg on flickr

If I tell you I can see you the way you should be seen, would you look back at me and join me to witness the galaxy I am longing for you to see?

📸: https://youtu.be/gvdACvfuGFA

behind our unseen faces consumed by darkness at night, somewhere in between the bruised and the skin that wounds used, we still long to be seen.

maybe, we are not afraid anymore on how we’ll look right before their eyes. we are afraid how their eyes can tell us we are not someone worth staring for.

May 21 calls for lfw-×-pluviam-collab’s birthday 🎂

Happy one year to this collaboration in advance

My restless door is close at having its place on the ground but then you knocked on it. You came in to my life when I am almost losing it. Suddenly, the four corners of my house became visible when you traced the broken line at the middle of my shattered heart. You were the missing piece all along, that’s the only time where the incomplete bricks on my wall―made sense at all. Your warm embrace feels like listening to the loud raindrops pouring on the roof yet I don’t have to worry; your beauty surpasses all the misery.

But then, you packed your bags when you had no clothes left with you; and when you knew I won’t be able to clothe you too. You shattered the window when you couldn’t see me the way you wanted me to be. You didn’t sit on our favorite seat, when I couldn’t bring you the coffee with your preferred heat.

You entered my life in a single knock, and now you ate up my key and left me in lock.

Now, who would stay with me when my house doesn’t feel like home anymore?

(📸: emilyprratt on Instagram)

A collaboration piece with Literary free wall.

I wish I was born with the sky painted blue.

Somewhere under every step I would take on, there is a storm that kept me away from looking at the clouds as they were never in my favor. How could the weather always got me hiding in my sweater, and not letting my eyes go beyond an umbrella? How could the rain wash away the remains of my true hue and just let me slip into a life where I don’t know any color but blue?

What could be worse than breaking every door in hope of finding a four-cornered room to be called home, just as to find it would just be a window to see through the walls that I do not belong anywhere? Should I just keep my head down, forget the existence of the clouds above, and pretend to let the leaves run dry despite the storm ruining its growth?

Why do I always have to feel cold in a world they say love brings warmth?

📸: https://pin.it/2X2RMUn

Life can never go this wrong. How would you like your coffee getting tasteless after you’ve drank it for a couple of times just so you could say you are alive? You should thank the four corners of your room, somehow they can pretend your home is still whole. Forget your mirror that is never remembered to be looked at anyway, you do not want yourself seeing how you really look now.

Life can never really go this wrong. When you are at your own home and you still don’t know where you are. How could we always pretend we are ourselves when we are slowly becoming a stranger to our own soul?

📸: https://pin.it/1NGYTqA

I beg of you to always feign ignorance whenever you would hear a few footsteps leaving you five steps behind heading to an empty space before my sight. Should you have a worry or need to follow me and twist that doorknob in, I hope you’ll never have it in hand.

Behind these closed doors is a person thanking the curtains that she does not need to pretend anymore she has always felt sanctuary like the world expects her to be. That she also feels misery and wants to be heard like a symphony. Whenever her thoughts occupies the space her heart is supposed to rest on, she sits still here. She, at least, yearns for the softness of her bed as she was not able to grasp the warmth of what’s inside her anymore.

This room was made without windows for a reason; it is not about others to see from. Whenever I don’t feel like myself, this room welcomes me for no one deserves to see the mess I make whenever I pick my pieces up and place it anywhere as I don’t know how to be whole.

📸: wanderingstoryteller on flickr

if someone knocked at your door and you’ll let them enter your home, look if they can still find your eyes and tell that you’re worthy, even without the lights. if they are willing to come up and look for you, even without the stairs. see if they still want to embrace every inch of you, when you’ve got your body full of scars. they are the ones that will make you feel the love on rooftop when you’ve got no roof, they are the ones that will turn your hopeless days to endless tomorrows.

they’ll always hold your cup of coffee, and will look at you the same way even if you’re bitter or sweet. they’ll hold your hand even if it is cold or hot, they’ll never leave you on the season of autumn and won’t let you rot.

‘cause you’ll forever grow a palace with someone who sees you like a queen when you’ve got no mansion.

📸: Travellers Choice on Pinterest

Although the alley to my heart was a composition of overlapping threads enough to be a riddle, that one wrong move and it will bleed caused by the needle; you walked along my stitches and embraced my knitted pieces.

Thanks to you, the button through me was open again when it was taught that letting the thread within doesn’t always come with a sharp object that will pierce you through, but also with a gentle touch that will immerse in you.

Although the alley to my heart was nothing but a back and forth misery, you had a way through it. You knew how to talk to my heart; because you belong there.

📸: q.ryoung on Instagram

Sharing a bruised life with someone that was wounded by a person appeared to me like entrusting a soul to the same kind that killed it before.

It is a risk to let someone touch your heart again when it was just squeezed by the fist the first time you did it; to welcome them into your home when someone has already left the door open; to receive the same flower again that once withered.

How I wish that life itself will point fingers on who will be still as we keep ourselves alive; instead of letting us dying to know how they may stab us in the midst of making our heart beat.

📸: Our Beloved Summer

hello po

Living as naked yet a dressed one, I have never been a dressmaker for once. No one even cared to shelter me with cloth, so I barely survived with the patches of the dust people had left me with. But then, I have found a soul worthy enough to be covered by the warmth not a piece of linen can satisfy.

It was my soul.

Ironic it is how can I clothe someone without the feeling of being clothed myself. Truly, I also feel sheltered when you are. Wear this piece of authenticity, and I shall never feel cold again.

Love looks good on you.

📸: Pinterest

Alin nga ba ang mas higit na nakakawalang gana? Ang hindi mo nagustuhang pagkain na nakahain sa mesa; o ang espasyo sa mga upuan na para bang ikaw lamang sa tahanan niyo ang nakatira?

Kaya ko namang kumain gamit ang sarili kong mga kamay; ayaw ko lamang masanay na sa plato ko na lang mapupunta lahat ng kaya kong ibigay. Kaya ko rin namang uminom ng kape mag-isa; ayaw ko lang mawala ang init hanggang sa masanay ako sa lamig nito na dulot ng paghihintay sa’yong samahan ako.

Presensya mo lamang ang ninanais ko sa hapagkainang ito. Dahil kahit minsan, hindi ko pa ito nararamdaman.

(📸: lorena*arance on flickr)

Higit pa sa pag-upo sa upuan at sa paghawak sa lapis ang ginagawa ko sa paaralan. Kadalasan nga ay naiiwan akong nakatayo, pakiramdam ko naman kasi lahat sila sa akin ay malayo. Ano rin ba ang silbi ng tinta ng lapis? Kung ang hinaharap ko ay hindi maisulat at ang bawat tinta ay nabubura ng pawis?

Gaano man ako kasubsob sa aking kwaderno, hindi pa rin sapat ito upang sabihing sapat ang mga kakayahan ko. Minsan, ang kailangan ko lang ay mga salitang galing sa’yo. Salitang nagpapahiwatig na kahit isang beses, naniwala ka sa akin; na hindi balewala sa iyo ang aking damdamin.

(📸: Imasura on Pinterest)

Magulo mang tingnan ang iyong mga sanga,
May mga dahon ka mang nanglagas na,
Hindi ito ang makakapagsabi ng iyong halaga.

Dahil hindi naman maitatago ang ganda sa likod ng iyong paglago, sinta.

Kulubot mang tingnan ang iyong ugat at punong-puno ka na ng sugat, wala namang mas hihigit pa sa payapa ng iyong lilim na nag-alis sa buhay ko ng bigat.

(📸: Jaye on Pinterest)

Lately, surviving the waters is what only matters to me. Forget being in accordance with the waves. I just want to get out and reach the shore. So I looked for the waves before me, and missed out that it was my thirsty soul that really killed me.

It was like only having an eye for the fish; and forgetting the fisherman. Neglected what really makes me feel alive, and so the boat sank.

Am I really not worth saving for?

(📸: archillect on Twitter)

guys nag-uupdate talaga ako, naka hide lang sa inyong lahat

How can
someone’s
absence take away
the rest of my existence?

I already took it to heart that yours would keep mine alive until my very last breath; and so when it did not hear of you anymore―it stopped beating.

How painful could my tomorrows be, when today you’re nothing but just a plain yesterday?

(📸: Pinterest)

Maaaring matagal mo akong hindi nakita sa paborito kong upuan o hindi mo na nararamdaman ang presensya ko sa dati kong tambayan.

Sinubukan ko lang humakbang palayo sa mga bagay na hindi na dapat ako manatili pa. Kung aalis ako saglit, kapag bumalik ba ako ay may lugar pa?

“Bakit ninais kong iwan ang minsan kong naging tahanan?”

(📸: Pinterest)

hala magccomeback na blackpink wala pa rin akong update

I never wanted to be written where my words would feel like it is scattered. The feeling of wanting to be erased as I feel I am always off the lines. I only have a heart for a page that comes in white with thin perfect straight lines. I never laid a word on an unwanted paper until it was the only one left; until I unfolded its value lying beneath the dust and ink-stained depths.

I never ran out of papers again when I found out my words had a place in every thing I could lay it on. Running through the tip of my pen is an internal voice wanting to be heard when they are finally read. The spaces in betweens are not for me to fill in, but for me to feel in.

(📸: Pinterest)

I have been painfully torn between the desire to get older or to dwell in the past when I am still younger. Yet the present tells me that I am just picking up the pieces that used to make me whole. To look for myself, that is somewhere lurking around my past―for them to stick again where they really belong. To maybe find some of them in the future, thinking that they never left me and it is still in me.

I am scared of the person I am going to be. I am terrified of how the years might change me. I am afraid of changes, if it happens to me I might be lost―left with no traces.

(📸: Pinterest)

The door was always there to speak about leaving; but his open arms says otherwise―his shelter won’t come to an end.

It is not about the fancy decors that made me stay; but knowing that this place was for me to always come home to. Your eyes might tell you that this place is too empty to look into; but this is filled with more than what eyes can reach. A hand to hold when the weather is cold; a shoulder where I can lean, when I don’t want to be seen.

This is home.

(📸: 1999vogue on Twitter)