Opisina Blues

The space
that eats the silence
between us
longs for a reprieve:
you breathe,
I tap away –
these seconds
are a chunk of eternity.
The tables – ah, the tables.
They envy us
as we swivel, no –
we dance:
starting and ending
in awkward stance.
Strange, isn’t it,
how these papers,
neatly stacked,
look at us:
offering letters
of resistance
that we cannot speak of.
Notice how your eyes
shine in glass walls.
Notice too,
how my palms clasp
the table finish.
My will (never) breaks.
(virtual) Conversations
are of the past;
some tell me they kill.
So does your sigh.
The space
that holds (your) anger,
never falters.
I shut down,
you sign out.
Tomorrow, awaits.
– english. para maiba naman.


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