Lit And On Fire

This is a loose English translation of the beautiful poem written by Juan Miguel Severo which he penned (mostly) in Tagalog. You can read his original work here: Pipiliin Kita . ----- I Choose You, Still Love is not blind. The eyes of true love can see through anything and clearer than anyone; so I thank you, thank you for truly seeing and fully knowing me - the good, the bad, and everything in between - and loving me anyway. I see you too - your beauty and all your mess - and I hope that you know I love you just as much. As those who have loved and lost come to mind, I've come to grips with the truth that it is stupid and foolhardy to demand perfection from love, from myself, or from anyone. By and by, I've realized that everyone is flawed and loves imperfectly. The question I needed to answer was not whether I could find someone ideal and faultless but whether I could find that one person whose warts, wrinkles, and flaws I could see and yet ch...

Just in case no one has ever said it to you: Good morning, beautiful! You are precious and one of a kind. Your soul is luminous and you glow from the inside. No one can do you but you. Just in case no one has ever asked you: How was your day, gorgeous? You are in my thoughts and I miss you. I care about you, how you're doing, what you're thinking, and why you're sad. Just in case no one has ever told you: I choose you. Not just for a moment or a day. I choose you for who you are and who you are not; inspite of what you have done and what you have not. Just in case no one has ever whispered to you: I love you. No ifs, no buts. Not just your pretty eyes or warm smile, your brilliant mind or carefree style. I love you. Period. And just in case you need to hear it again, over and over: I love you. I love you. I love you.

Someday you will run, not AWAY, but TO... Here's to the times you wished for rain so you could cry unnoticed, for the train to rumble by so no one would hear your heart shatter, and for the day to be over so you could crawl back into bed and sleep your sadness away. Here's to all the emails and photos you deleted, the text messages you didn't read, and the calls you ignored; every single one a reminder of a life you once had and loved. Here's to the words you wished were not spoken and those you hoped were; each one a knife that cut you open, over and over with every remembering. Here's to the days you lost yourself, the hours you wish you could take back; every conversation like fingernails on a chalkboard, every memory an attack. Here's to you and all your tears, all the empty promises, regrets, and fears; all of the accusations and sarcastic comments, the bored responses and yawns; each one a wound over scars that have not completely...

Coming home feels as though everything is in its proper place. A familiar sense of settling takes root and for a certain number of moments all things belong where they are and right where they should be. No matter where you wander, a few miles apart or halfway across the globe, as long as there are people there whom your heart beats for, that place will always be home. But home is not just a 'where', is it? It could be a when, that pocket of time you enter into and find your moorings; or perhaps a series of whys, truths that free you; and maybe even a how, the specific way you are loved. Home is where... Home is when... Home is why... Home is how... ...we all should be.

It’s okay to be weak, to not have things figured out, to be so lost you can’t make heads or tails of anything. No one has it all together, or can say they have the answer to everything. It’s not shameful to want to curl up in a ball and shut the world out. There will be moments, several of them, that would catch you by surprise, revelations that could knock you off your feet, and truths you’ll have a hard time wrapping your mind around. Don’t ever feel the need to face everything head-on right away. Allow yourself to pause, to let the barage of soul-crushing pain, disappointment, and puzzlement overtake you. Feel their weight against your back, the way they cause your knees to buckle, your breath to catch, and your heart to constrict and tighten within your chest as though it would break but wouldn’t. Oh how you’d wish it would just shatter so you could pick up the pieces and start over! Embrace them all. Let them sweep through you like a hurricane, run you over like a tidal wave, a...

Someday you will meet someone who will know everything about you. How you bawled your eyes out when Mufasa died. How you hid in the basement closet with your imaginary friend. How you waved at planes that flew over your backyard and imagined you were riding one all the way to Themyscira. How your dreams would play out like a sci-fi movie. How at 4 years old you walked 3 miles from school to home by yourself because you got tired of waiting for the person who was supposed to pick you up. How you like tuna melt sandwiches but not tuna and tomato sauce but not tomatoes; or that you love the crust more than the pizza. How you like to grill your steak well done and your rice (and meat) a little burnt because they taste better that way. How you felt a void when you said goodbye to Hermione, Ron, and Harry. How you love the sight of a clean house, with all things in their proper places but hate doing house chores. How you hold your tongue at political debates or sports a...

You could be her, little one. The girl with the perfect hair, who can drink coffee and not spill a single drop on her white dress, wear 6-inch stilettos and not trip, and put on makeup like a pro; you may not be her.  The girl with the perfect smile, who can write poems that make even the most unromantic swoon, hit the notes to a Whitney Houston song with the acuracy of Whitney herself, and dance like Beyonce; you may not be her.  The girl with the perfect personality, who says all the right words at the right time, cracks jokes that everybody finds funny, and is the life of any party; you may not be her.  The girl with the perfect attitude, who is never affected by the hurtful words of people who could care less about the feelings of others, is never peeved by inconsiderate commuters on the subway, and is never annoyed at reckless drivers on the highway; you may not be her.  But... The girl with puffy eyes in the morning because she sp...

Take me out of here To where I can let my mind go blank Stare at the ocean And listen to the roar of its waves As they venture to the shore With reckless abandon Take me to where I can't think of anything But the wind caressing my face While looking down to a carpet of greens And up at a canopy of deep blue Take me out of my thoughts And place me somewhere My ideas can't find me Where the only thing that matters Is what's real at the moment Take me far away into a land Where my feelings about the future Can't get my number And what was Can't cloud what is Take me, please, to that Secret Place Where love is not measured against flawed standards Where joy does not depend on circumstances And peace, ah, peace Is the sweet presence I sleep with And wake up to as the sun rises