When was the last time
that my lips falling on your skin
felt right? Moments are centuries
apart, forgotten pains to
your almost reddish cheeks,
bitten memories numbed
by yesterdays, and thrown emotions.
Lover, was your body still yearning
for such passion? Questions are wind
that we sneak into the night,
and yet I fail, to catch your eyes.
Unruly, even those whispers
I say to your skin, while your smile
strips me bare. The bed on our backs
mold our past, when both
our laughter follow same rhythms,
when we say our names, our dreams.
Are we made to be prayers, repeatedly
said but will never, never
come true? Lover, I wish prayer
is not what you breathe into my lips,
because dawn is nowhere near,
and even ten thousand years passed
will still, not be enough.
*salin ng Dalangin