There is a lingering sort of emptiness I feel
Whenever I don’t go to that place.
Living there half the month
Has become so routine,
My week would feel incomplete otherwise.
However,
That place has become a battlefield.
Every minute I spend there
Is time spent fighting for my life.
Fighting ghosts, memories, demons,
And yet, I can’t live without that place.
Despite the war,
I can’t deny it’s become a safe haven,
One that I can run to every week.
But for now, Taft isn’t safe.
Every turn, every corner, a knife resides.
Ready to stab me if I’m not careful.
Today, it’s time to go home.
A special kind of tranquility greets me
As I get off the Skyway.
I’m safe in Alabang.
My home, My safe room.
You never made it here.
You can’t find me here.
This is my turf, just like you said.
In the South, I’m free. I can breathe.
My home, A place untainted,
Free from any trace or semblance of you.
Of all of you.
No knife in sight, no fight or flight.
Just me, myself and my love, the sun.
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