Pahina ng Tula

"But I think, it will be best for us if I hide"






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"Payakap, yakap-yakap, kahit sandali" ✨






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"You are my galatea" 💖






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When Ben&Ben sing this line:

"We never talk about the times
We don't believe we're fine
Though I'm not leavin' you behind
We need to be true

I feel this way that every time I’m with you, I feel like I’m standing in a long hallway filled with doors I’ve spent years keeping locked. I want to let you in—I really do—but there’s a persistent, quiet voice reminding me of the last time I left a threshold unguarded. It’s not that I don’t trust you; it’s that I’m still haunted by the weight of what I had to shut out before.

Sometimes, the fear of what might happen if I open a door is heavier than the loneliness of keeping them closed. I see you waiting there, patient and kind, and I catch myself gripping the handle, hesitating. I’m terrified that if I finally let you see the mess behind these doors, you’ll walk away like everyone else did. But then, the music swells, the light catches the frame, and I realize that staying safe is just another way of staying stuck. I think I’m ready to turn the key—not because I’m sure it won’t hurt, but because I’m finally tired of standing alone in the hall."

When Ben&Ben said this:

"glimpse of me and you,
"Oh you were a good dream"

I always thought about the color blue and yellow were star-crossed by design, etched into the very laws of the universe as strangers. Blue, they said, is the heavy, aching silence of the deep sea—a melancholic weight that settles in the chest. Yellow is the blinding, fleeting warmth of a summer afternoon—the kind of light that dances on the surface but never dares to touch the cold, dark floor below.

They used the oil and water as their cruel analogy. I remember watching them hover—a delicate, trembling tension between the two, an intimacy that felt like a secret. They would kiss at the edges, a fragile shimmer of light on dark, but the laws of physics were a relentless, invisible hand. They would always pull away, spiraling into their separate, lonely currents, never truly becoming one. It felt like a fracture in the soul—the agonizing realization that in every version of reality, we were doomed to be opposites. We were so beautiful when we touched, a masterpiece of contrast, but it was a beauty that felt like a goodbye.

But I refuse to believe in the permanence of that separation. I have felt the ache of a love that refuses to obey the laws of physics—a love that burns with such defiant, quiet intensity that it demands to be an exception. I’ve known the kind of devotion that stands firm against the tide, that refuses to dissolve no matter how much the world tries to wash it away. It is a love that doesn't just survive the distance; it builds bridges out of the silence.

I realized then that my heartbreak wasn't about the colors; it was about the intensity of the light. When you are drowning in that indigo haze, you don't need a flash of lightning that blinds you and vanishes. You need a glow that lingers. I had been chasing a shallow, golden brightness—something that looked like joy, but lacked the depth to hold my sorrow. I was mourning a sun that was never meant to stay.

The truth is, you don’t need to be erased. You don't need to be "fixed" into something bright and shallow. You need a shade of yellow that is brave enough to wade into the blue.

One day, you will find a light that doesn't shy away from your shadows. It will be a steady, golden warmth—not the frantic glare of the sun, but the soft, amber glow of a hearth. It won’t try to chase the blue from your heart; it will sit beside it. It will learn the language of your currents. And in that moment, the impossible happens: the oil and the water cease their struggle. They begin to bleed into one another, swirling until the blue is no longer cold, and the yellow is no longer fleeting.

Together, you will become something entirely new—a soft, healing shade of green, born from the grace of finally, *finally* being understood.

Pikon

Hitik ang dila
sa hilaw na diwa,
Dala nito'y bala
sa balak tumawa.

Haitus is over!!!

Release na siyaaaaa!!!!!

🌻 'KUNDIMAN IKAW' OUT NOW

NOW AVAILABLE ON ALL STREAMING PLATFORMS

Stream here
🔗 : https://open.spotify.com/album/1UYwXae3nQamwCDi3VVBIP?si=-T_Vg2dYQAWIlxegv4SDvg

World, Its summer time! 🥵🥵





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