tucked in mid-air

how do they come to the
come to the
come to the God
come to the still waters,
and not love the one who came there with them...
~sharon olds, "sex without love"

our eyes moved in hunger, and it was not to fill the emptiness that sat in our guts. you were spontaneity and you attracted me completely.

so that was how it felt like to surrender to fate, letting myself get lulled by beer and your voice talking of your escape from home. you see, i am the world's sadness collector and nobody is there to collect my stories when its time for me to share. this is the comfort i found in strangers. i can let myself overflow.

...and so we shared the nights flying like airplanes, floating in smoke then plummeting to the ground, faster and faster, till we reached the center of the universe. the mornings were lazy as you whispered your silent wishes to god in my ear, your lips tenderly brushing my skin. i've never wanted to stay in bed so badly. afternoons were just as slow as we made something else other than love. how is it that you were able to stop time?

even when we moved out of the mountains and found rest in the heart of manila, you found a way to drown street sounds with the sound of your heaving breath.

i've never seen unrest conquered so easily by sleep and silence.
you suspend me in mid-air...