041612

my sadness grew legs. they ran in the great expanse, slipped over spilt ink and words, purpling the shins. they tripped over the absence, wounding the knees
and a thousand times more its blindness assisted the falling
and a thousand times more it stood up
until sadness reached the superlative
and the blinking stars bore witness to its folly

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paalala sa sarili

to anticipate sadness is
to heave small sighs every other hour
it is to exhaust the grief in a long prose,
twice a month, it is
to cry a teaspoon of tears every other day
hoping that it can prepare you when
the strand has been cut

but it is an empty safeguard.

you will only drown in your sighs grief and tears
of a thousandfold