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Category Archives: literary works

Thought-Provoking Photos From Vegas and The 1975’s Robbers

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She had a face straight outta magazine
God only knows but you’ll never leave her
Her balaclava is starting to chafe
And when she gets his gun he’s begging, “Babe, stay, stay, stay, stay, stay.”

You imagine the kind of love he had before you. That last heartache he’ll never forget. Then you imagine what it feels like to be a man who was left behind. He still had her photographs hanging on the walls of his 4-walled room. The frames are polished to perfection, it looks out of place in his trashy, smoke-filled space. Her scarlet scarf is still in his drawer where she last left it, and he said it still smells like her. He said the words so beautifully and silently that you’re pretty sure you can hear your own heart shatter.

He’s sleeping beside you and you looked at him in awe, thinking how lucky she was and how she lose it all.

You wrote something on a piece of tissue paper and left.

* * *


I’ll give you one more time,
We’ll give you one more fight,
Said one more line,
Will I know you?

You were driving in the city and you don’t want to admit that you’re lost, just like you don’t want to admit that you’re the one who’s falling on a game that you started. There are bright and blinking lights everywhere but they all seem lifeless to you.

He called you and asked you to come over – after four months of no communication – and you willingly agree. You’re still fighting after all this time, without knowing that somebody already won and that’s not you. He’s everything you ever wanted, and he’s everything that you can never have. But it doesn’t matter because you love him and he wants you.

* * *


Now everybody’s dead
And they’re driving past my old school
He’s got his gun, he’s got his suit on
She says, “Babe, you look so cool,”

 You go through his apartment’s already familiar hallways, and it’s funny because it smelled a lot like rain. You were still pondering about your stupidity for coming over when you already know what will happen. You knock on his door and starts to bite your lower lip out of anxiety, it’s an old habit that you have, and he hates it.

He finally opens the door and smiles. And that smile broke you down for the first time in this one and a half year affair. Because it was that kind of smile that assures you he’ll never let you go again now. It was a smile of relief, of gratitude. He takes you inside his blue room and you were surprised how different it is now.

There are no more photos hanging in his room. You look on the battered nightstand and there’s a tissue paper with words in your own handwriting.

“When you already know what you want, call me.”

 * * * * *

Okay, I’m trying to do something different here. I’m trying to defy the norms of blogging (if there’s any.) So I’m trying to incorporate images with a certain song and see what kind of emotions will take place. Let me clarify that this is just an experiment and I have no idea if somebody already did this kind of shit. The photos and the song belong to their rightful owners (please see below.)

So tell me, what do you think? 🙂

Here are my other literary works.

*photos are from Scott Brown and Associates, song is from The 1975.



That Moment When You Have No Idea How to Write a 250-word Article About Headset Batteries

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That Moment When You Have No Idea How to Write a 250-word Article About Headset Batteries

This is one of my favorite poems. Written by Shinji Moon, a young and contemporary poet living in New York City. She’s only 19 years old and I don’t know where she gets her poetry talent. She’s composed of metaphors, ideologies, broken hearts, and words that linger in your bones and in your whole being. I just love her!

Anyway, as per the poem, how do we exactly know if we’re already hurting another person, especially those people that we loved the most?

Sometimes, we thought we’re loving them, that we are protecting them, that they need saving and we are the ones who can actually do the thing. And by doing that, we have no idea that we’re slowly pulling their arms and legs and breaking them in the process.

But how do we know? We will never understand their smokes and photo albums and beers and huge handwriting. We will never understand them until we suffered the same fate.

And once we do understand what’s happening, it’s always too late to apologize.

He Should Be a Good Boy

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He should be a good boy poem

He Should Be a Good Boy poem

Somebody sent me an email to give me some advice and pointers regarding my poems (Thank you, Nellie!). As you can see, most of my poems are all about love because that’s the easiest subject for me. So today, I tried to venture into something completely different and I decided to write a poem about faith, religion, and humanity. (Actually, I wrote this yesterday. LMAO)

Faith and religion are two different things. You can be faithful without your religion but you can’t be religious without being faithful. And I think that one of the main reasons for religion’s diversity is because of our lack of faith. Given our cognitive privileges, only a human being has the power to change the world’s view about everything. Maybe that’s where it all started. Someone insisted that his God is the real God, without realizing that their Gods is all the same. Yeah, it’s kinda hard to explain but you get what I mean, right? (That’s just a wild guess, anyway.)

Moving on, this is my poem and I hope ya’ll enjoy this. Just send me an email on my “CONTACT ME” page if you have suggestions or whatsoever. 😉

Remember to always be a good human, alright? 🙂

You can also check out some of my literary works.  ♥


Kimberly. ♥

Don’t Ever Let Them Detain You

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Flowers for Kimberly

Photo for inspirational purposes only. All texts are mine. 🙂

Sometimes, we care about a person way too much. Sometimes, they take us for granted and we let them because we know that it’s what we deserve. Sometimes, it hurts so bad that we don’t feel a thing and crying nor screaming won’t pacify us. They always told us to move on, without ever knowing that we almost lost our lives trying to. We have no idea how to be whole again and they have no idea how it feels like to be broken every time.

They don’t understand us because they don’t understand our pain, they hurt us and we let them because we love them too much. And the sad part is that our “too much” will never be enough. We could’ve offered them the world and everything that we have and everything that we will ever be, but they refused it. And we spent the rest of our lives wondering why.

Sometimes, we need to save ourselves; we need to fix ourselves, because no one will ever do that for us. Sometimes, we need to realize that we need to be happy, and we should let ourselves be happy. We will still love them, that’s for sure. Even after all these years, even after all the pain. We will still love them as eagerly as we have loved them before. Girls like us, we are doomed to love like that. And it’s only right that this time, someone would actually love us the way we always wanted to be loved, that someone would actually love us and all our brokenness.

We should get our papers, take a passport photo, and apply for a visa. Get a plane ticket, pack our bags, and put on our best shoes. We will leave the cold nights, cigarette butts, and unsaid words behind because we are going to a place where they would never ever find us.

“She’s gone, she lost it”, they will say, without knowing that they’re the ones who lose us. And as years will pass by, there will be a legend in the town that once swore us, about a girl who loved too much…

and left.

SHE: A poem

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SHE: A poem

Okay, so uh, I’m quite bored and busy at the same time (I don’t know if that’s even possible, LOL)

Anyway, this is a poem made by me. Enjoy. 😉

See my other literary works. 🙂

Kim. ♥

Things That She Never Said

Things That She Never Said

I still have 17 pending articles due today, but it’s so early for my energy and brain to work so I guess I’ll write a literary post for y’all guys to warm the shit outta me.

I hope you’ll enjoy this, though. 🙂


I’m on my way home and it’s raining really hard. I look at my watch and it’s 10:30 PM. I still have to work early tomorrow, and by the way it goes, I guess I’ll have less than 5 hours of sleep again tonight. I figured out that maybe this isn’t my best day, maybe this is my punishment from the heavens because I hate my mother. After all, “Honor thy mother and father” is the 6th commandment, right?

My mother used to sing when she was young. I remember listening to her and closing my eyes. God, she has a very beautiful voice. She used to sing with me in my pre-teen years. She used to be there when I join every singing contest in our town. She used to be lovely and lively and full of life.

I don’t know when, but it just stopped. She told me that I can’t sing all my life, that I need to find a job, that I should go to college, that I should never follow her steps because when she left everything to pursue her singing career, it led her nowhere and left by her husband who gave her nothing but problems and a baby girl.

Nothing but problems and a baby girl.

Problems and a baby girl.

A baby girl. That hurts.

All my life, I am bound by her rules. I should do this, I should learn that, blah blah blah. At first, I don’t mind the constant nagging, but after years of being my mother’s slave, it somehow get in my nerves. Why can’t I take Fine Arts? Why should I take Finance as my course? Why should I do this when what I really want is that?

Maybe she was right, she could have achieved her dreams. She could live the life she wanted to, if it wasn’t only because of my father… and me.

I finally made it home. I search right away for my mother. I want to move away from her as soon as possible now that I have a job and I’m living my life the way she wanted me to live it. She’s not here, though. She left a note by the refrigerator saying that she needs to be at my aunt Lily’s funeral.

I entered her room and roamed around it. it smells so much like her. Musk and citrus. I looked around and I see a little black book with the year 1996 printed in gold at the center. I opened it and I cried when I read the only two sentences on the very first page.

“My music stopped for me the day that my baby girl was born. But it’s my little girl who continued the music for me.”

I cried because of all the guilt and the pain. I cried because these two sentences slapped me and spit right on my face. All along I thought I was just her burden, the reason why she didn’t have her singing career, a wreck of a creature that my father left her with.

Never did I thought that I became her music.


Liked this? check out my other literary works! 😉

One Morning, I Woke Up and There Was No You

Photo for inspirational purposes only.

Photo for inspirational purposes only.

One Morning, I Woke Up and There Was No You


One morning, I woke up and there was no you,

I looked around and all I see is an empty room full of offensive memories,

of loud moans, faint cries, and genuine laughter.

One morning, I woke up and I am empty.


I can still smell the faint smell of your Marlboro Reds,

and I wondered if you can smell my perfume right at this very moment.

I wonder if you miss my skin like I miss yours,

And I wonder if I was imprinted in your life like the tattoos on your arms.


One morning, I woke up and there was no you,

no paintbrush, no colors, no canvass.

You told me that you would make a colorful world,

and I told you that I will help you with my words, letters, and run-on sentences.

I guess it will never happen, now.

Because one morning, I woke up and the world was dull.


You may wonder what I did when you left.

I forced my feet to stand and walk on their own,

I forced my hands to give me the most beautiful color that ever existed,

and my feet led me out the door,

and my hands gave me a Crayola,

I flipped it over and the color is named “Burn it all”.


So I gathered all your things and your shadows and my memories of you.

I burn them in the garage.

and I watched as the fire warm me and protect me against the cold, rainy morning.

And I smile because I finally realized how much comfort it brings me to finally let you go.


One Morning, I woke up and there was no you.

You never came back.

So I put on my shoes and live my life,

hoping that  one morning, I’ll wake up and I won’t remember you at all.


This poem is mine, all copyrights intended. :)
See my other works here.


Kim ♥

After All Those Years

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After All Those Years

Hey flowers,

I know that I’ve promised you a lot of book reviews. I’m sorry I can’t do them right away because my personal camera is sadly stolen. See, I want most of my photos to be mine, especially if the book’s mine too. 🙂

Instead though, I would like to feed your reader with these little fictions. ♥



I am here again, in the town that I once swore I’ll never go back to.

I walked the once familiar streets: it were all painted yellow now and it made me sick, the elementary school is still there, blazing it’s arrogant school hymn. The town’s park still have its lovers and kids playing, I wonder if they dream of living in the city someday, I wonder if they’re itchy of getting out of this place too in order to live the quintessential dream. And I wonder if just like me, they will go back in here several years from now to escape the toxic city, if stepping in the very border of this town after all those years brings back the heartbreak, the memories, the rejection, the pain, the trauma, the glory and defeat of being a kid with big dreams but is a prisoner of this little, sick town.

I wonder if after all those years, they will cry too just like me at this very moment, because after all the hate I have of this town, it relieves me to be back right where I have started.

If Only

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If Only

We are all taught that girls are the ones who needs saving. That we are the fragile, weak ones, That days of rain would soak us to the bones. Two years ago, I believe that too.

And two years ago, I want you to save me.


Do you know the saying that goes like “You don’t realize the value of what you have until it’s gone”? I have never paid attention to it, though.

I wish I did.


If I could turn back that last two years, I would go back to that day you made me promise, and I would promise you my whole, battered being because that’s what you want. I asked you what it’s like to be with me, and you told me it’s like seeing the world in a magic carpet. I laughed because I know that magic carpets aren’t real.

And I swear that I would give up all my pride that day, and answer you when you asked me the same question twice. Being with you is like having no senses yet I am able to perceive the world as it is. I wish you knew that. You complete me, and I pushed you away because I am an alien to being absolutely whole.

You have tried your best to save me, and I want you to know that you succeed.

If I could turn back that last two years, I wouldn’t force you out of our little apartment in the wee hours of the night just because I believe that you can’t understand me, when in fact I am the one who can’t understand myself.

If could turn back that last two years, I wouldn’t let you drive your car and go away.

If I could turn back that last two years, I would’ve followed you, and tell you I’m sorry.

But I can’t do it. I didn’t do it. And it’s one of those moments that break me time after time after time. It’s been two whole years.

Tomorrow, I shall visit your grave.

Poem no. 5: Everything Breaks

photo for inspirational purposes only.

photo for inspirational purposes only.

Everything Breaks



“I promise”, he said.

These are his words,

and it lingers in my mind.

Time after time after time.


“I love you”

he said one more time.

I feel afraid, afraid to fall,

afraid to love, afraid to break.


But damn.

the joy, the chills, the love.

And the sky cries its tears.

Jealous of it all.


“Why me?”, I asked.

Curious of the reason,

trying to see what he sees in me.

Am I dreaming? I hope not.


I love him with my being,

with my scars, with my spaces.

with everything I am,

and everything I will ever be.


“I love her.”

he said one day,

and I feel everything breaks.

From the walls, to the frames, to my world

to my bones, my nerves, and my heart.


“Why?”, I asked.

curious of the reason,

giving him a chance to explain.

Am I dreaming? I hope I am.


“I don’t know”, he said.

And then he doesn’t say a word again,

not even sorry, not even goodbye.

And just like that,

he left.


Darling, why?

you fixed me,

then you break me.

Who’s going to clean up the mess?


“Let’s move on.”

the hardest part of it all,

with conviction, he said it.

But I don’t know where to go.


He brought me to a place

I have never gone before

showed me everything

I have never seen before

“Darling, Where would I go?”


And the sky cries one more time,

one cold September night.

And I wish, how I wish!

that I drift away with the dirt of the earth,

and come out as a new person,

living a new life,

starting a new love,

forgetting everything,



But here I am,

here I am.

I’m the one who’s cleaning this mess,

our mess.