biniyayaang-mirasol

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

I peeled the pomegranate for you, one delicate layer at a time, hoping you’d see what I was giving. Each ruby seed, glistening, fragile — like the parts of me I’ve kept hidden. I thought you’d take it. I thought you’d want to taste it, to feel the sweetness on your lips. But you don’t.

The pomegranate is me. The juice I’ve spilled into my hands is all I have to offer, but it’s as though you don’t want it. You won’t take it. You turn away. The fruit sits there, and I can feel its emptiness — feel it in the way I want to press it to my lips, want to taste it myself, but all I want is for you to do it first. To reach for me, to taste the essence of what I’ve laid bare.

I want to spill the juice in your hands, watch it stain your skin. I want you to let it drip down your fingers, to bring it to your mouth like you crave it. Like you crave me. But you don’t.

And the ache, it comes in waves — soft at first, then sharp and bitter, like the seeds that slip through my fingers. I’ve given all I can, laid out everything that makes me whole, and still, you won’t taste it. You won’t taste me.

All I wanted was to be consumed by you, to feel your mouth against mine, your hands around me, wanting me like I want you. But now, I’m left here, with the juice of the pomegranate running through my fingers, staining my hands — like the remnants of something that was meant to be devoured completely. I wanted to be consumed by you, every part of me laid bare for you to take in, to savor. I thought you’d want it, want me, until there was nothing left but the memory of how I tasted.

But maybe I spilled too much juice. Maybe the sweetness is gone, lost in the mess, in the way it drips and stains, turning everything I was into something you’d rather leave behind. Perhaps I wasn’t as beautiful as you imagined, wasn’t worth the mess. Maybe, in the end, I’m just a fruit you never really wanted to touch.

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

i love you in ways that words will never be enough to express, and i truly believe you’re my person—the one who feels like home. but life, with all its cruel twists, seems to have placed us on opposing paths. i can see the weight you’re carrying, the unspoken struggles that cloud your mind, and i know your heart feels too worn to hold the depth of what we could be right now. and though i wish with everything in me that i could wait for the day when you’re ready, when the timing aligns, i’ve come to realize that i’m losing myself trying to prove my love to you.

i’ve given so much of myself, poured out everything, hoping you’d see that i’m here, that i’m all in. but somewhere along the way, i forgot about me. and as much as it shatters me to say it, i can’t keep waiting endlessly—not because i don’t love you, but because i’ve lost too much of myself trying to hold on to something that only you can meet me halfway on.

still, in my heart, there’s this quiet hope that one day, when your mind is lighter and your heart stronger, you’ll decide to come home to me. and if that day comes, i’ll be here. i’ll be waiting. but for now, i need to let go—of the waiting, the proving, the losing of myself—because love should hold space for both of us, not just one.

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

Virginia Woolf, from her novel titled "The Waves," originally published in 1931

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

— Jennifer Niven, All The Bright Places

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

why must love feel like a war like i have to win you everytime to get the love i need?

love shouldn’t feel like i’m always in this constant battle, like i’m always in a fight to earn what should flow freely between us. it is exhausting to wake up each day wondering if i’ll need to prove my worth again, wondering if today is the day you'll finally see me or if i’ll still be chasing the version of us i’ve been clinging to. i’m tired of running in circles, of reaching out for you only to feel you slipping further away. that no matter how much i give, it feels like you’re always just out of reach, like the moment i get close enough to feel your warmth, you’re already pulling back. do you even realize how that feels? to give everything i have and still feel like it’s not enough?

and when things get heavy—when life presses on us and challenges stack up—why am i always the first thing you let go of? why does it feel like i’m the easiest part of your life to set aside? am i that disposable to you? am i the first thing you sacrifice because you think i can handle it? because you think i’ll still be here, waiting, no matter how many times you walk away? or is it because i’m not as important to you as i thought i was? i don’t know what hurts more—the thought that you believe i’ll stay through anything, even neglect, or the possibility that you’ve never cared enough to fight for me in the first place.

i don't get how you can say that you love me and still have me thinking i am the first sacrifice to be made when it gets tough for your world. love cannot be fragile like this. it was not supposed to break that easily at the very sight of resistance. true love—the one i thought we shared—it should have made you fight on for me. it should make you want to hold on tighter when it hurts. love is supposed to be a safe haven and a refuge, not something you can just drop at the weight of the world. how can something you claim to value so deeply feel so easy for you to abandon?

i keep telling myself that love is supposed to be strong. that it’s supposed to endure, to grow through the hardships. i thought that’s what we were building together. but now i wonder if i’ve been building alone, if i’ve been the only one pouring my heart into something you’re not even sure you want to keep. shouldn’t love feel mutual? shouldn’t it feel like something we’re both fighting for, not something i’m constantly trying to hold together while you decide if it’s worth the effort?

and if that’s not what we have, then what are we? what am i to you, really? am i truly someone you love, or just someone who’s convenient to love until i’m not? do you see me as someone worth fighting for, or am i just here to fill a void, to give you something you don’t feel obligated to keep? how long am i supposed to keep asking myself these questions? how long am i supposed to hold onto something that keeps making me feel like i’m not enough? or is this how it’s always going to be—me questioning, you slipping away?

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

i hope that every time you close your eyes, you see me—not as i was at my happiest, but in the moments where your indifference carved pieces out of me that i can never get back. i hope the sound of my voice stays sharp in your memory, not soft and loving but trembling and breaking as i tried to understand why i wasn’t worth the effort. i hope you feel the weight of it pressing against your chest when you wake up, and that it lingers throughout the day, making it hard for you to breathe, hard to focus, hard to feel anything but the heaviness of what you lost.

i hope you carry that regret everywhere you go, that it wraps itself around you like a second skin like an impossible to shed no matter how far you run or how much you try to distract yourself. i hope every small joy in your life feels incomplete because you know deep down that you turned your back on something real, something that will never come again. i hope the thought of it haunts you—not in fleeting, painful flashes, but in an ever-present ache that grows sharper and excruciatingly painful with time.

i hope you see the traces of me in any unexpected places, in the faces of strangers who laugh the way i used to, to the songs i once shared with you, in the moments when you think you’ve finally moved on. i hope you wonder if anyone will ever love you as fully as i did, and i hope the answer strikes you cold because you know the truth—you won’t let them close enough to try. i hope that realization follows you into every room, every connection, every new beginning that feels hollow because it can never measure up to what you let die.

i hope you live with the constant realization that my love was rare, something that could have healed you if you’d let it, something that could have been the best thing you ever had, and you let it crumble out of your hands. i hope it eats at you, slowly, day by day, until it becomes a part of who you are—i hope this mistake reminds you that you had everything and chose to look the other way. and i hope it never leaves you. because peace is something you don’t deserve, not after the way you left me with nothing but questions, scars, and a love that you refused to return.

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

i wrote a twin cinema poem about two gay soldiers in wwi

context: the two sides, read separately, are the two soldiers thinking about their futures with each other. when read together, it's a reflection of their final thoughts when they die together struck by bullets <3

[biniyayaang-mirasol]

indifferences

i tore myself apart trying to understand why i never could be. i blamed myself for your distance, for your indifference, for every moment you turned away. i wondered if i loved you too much, too loudly, or not enough, not in the way you needed.

i know holding onto you would only make this ache grow deeper, it would only prolong the inevitable truth that you’ve already shown me with your actions—that you weren’t really for me, that you already fell out of love. you didn’t fight for me. you didn’t try to make this work. and in your indifference, in the way you slowly let go of the love we built, you left me no choice but to let go too. so i did. even though it shattered me, even though it’s tearing me apart—it’s what you made me do.

i hope that every time you close your eyes, you see me—not as i was at my happiest, but in the moments where your indifference carved pieces out of me that i can never get back. i hope the sound of my voice stays sharp in your memory, not soft and loving but trembling and breaking as i tried to understand why i wasn’t worth the effort. i hope you feel the weight of it pressing against your chest when you wake up, and that it lingers throughout the day, making it hard for you to breathe, hard to focus, hard to feel anything but the heaviness of what you lost.