Three Days Ago (In poetic mode)

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I stole a glance and looked away.

I couldn’t watch.

I looked again and this time stared.

I froze.

You held her in your arms, not wanting to let her go.

Kissed her on the forehead and smiled at her.

She beamed at you, touched your face, your nose, your lips.

You kissed her fingertips and she smiled.

A tear rolled down my cheek

And I quickly wiped it away.

I couldn’t move—

I wanted to leave but I can’t.

You have always loved her—

And I have always waited.

Always waited.

Waited.

Hoped.

Wished that maybe some of that love would overflow for me.

Wished that you’d notice me.

Wished that each day it was more than just a glance, a smile that you give me.

Wished that I am the one in your arms, in your heart.

The one you dream of every night, the one you think of in your waking moments.

Wished I was the one.

But I am not.

I stole another glance.

You caught me.

You smiled and waved.

I waved back and turned.

I remembered this one song while Media Player is at random, the song “Three Days Ago” by Mario Winans. I have always loved its chorus: “Yesterday you said that we could get away/ day before I was alone like any other day/ three days ago I wrote this song for you/ will I ever get through/ to you.”

And I remembered someone.

I still can’t remember why I was crying last night. Maybe it was because of Bruce’s “This is what we have” line to Wendy (and when she opened her palm there was a pendant with the word “love” on it), or maybe it was because of the pain I saw in Wendy when Bruce finally left. It’s nice to see people fall in love, but it’s not nice seeing them go separate ways (not that Bruce won’t be coming back).

Or maybe because I felt the uncertainty, the fear when someone was leaving and you just don’t know why.

Yes, maybe I am still angry. Maybe I’m still bitter about it. About you and her. About everything. Why I was the one who has to say sorry when it was your fault all along—you were just too filled with pride, just like you always were, to admit you are at fault. I thought I had let go of all the anger I kept inside me for the past three years when I confessed to the priest about how angry I was at you, how much you’ve hurt me.

But some things just don’t go away.

It’s easy to forgive, but not forget.

I have always told my friends that it wasn’t the pain of finding out that it was she that you have loved all the while—it was the pain of the betrayal. The betrayal that you haven’t told me all along and you made me believe that I was the one you love. The betrayal that I was your best friend, and then I was the last one to find out about it. Your silly excuse? You thought I already knew.

Nice.

Or maybe I was just plainly stupid, don’t you think? Everyone is. Everyone is stupid when they fall in love, because every single shred of sanity flies out the window and you’re left with only your heart and the love you had to begin with.

Or maybe all I was looking for was the answers to all my questions—or maybe I don’t deserve any explanations.

The reason I haven’t trusted anyone for that matter after what happened, was because of you. I was scared to trust anyone because you betrayed me. You both betrayed me. And then what? Here I am, feeling happy for you guys. Maybe I’m really just a hard-on romantic that I couldn’t bear to turn away from you because I know that you really love her right now.

Yes. Do love her.

Love her at my own breaking heart’s expense.

Spark’s Fire

April 19, 2007 20:54

I think I could like you

I already do

Feelings can grow but

They can go away too

You're taking my hand

Looking into my eyes

Don’t be in a rush to

Get me tonight

Feel something happening

Could this be a spark?

To satisfy me baby

Gotta satisfy my heart

Do you know how to touch a girl?

If you want me so much

First I have to know

Are you thoughtful and kind?

Do you care what's on my mind?

Or am I just for show?

You’ll go far in this world

If you know how to touch a girl

Do you know how to touch, know how to touch a girl?

Do you know how to touch, know how to touch a girl?

I think I could like you

But I keep holding back

Coz I can't seem to tell

If you're fiction or fact

Show me you can laugh

Show me you can cry

Show me who you really are

Deep down inside

Do you feel something happening?

Could this be for real?

I don't know right now but tonight we'll reveal

Bring me some flowers

Conversation for hours

To see if we really connect

And baby if we do

Confusion.

April 19, 2007 19:08

I was there, alone at the corner of our high school. He came and told me we needed to talk, and I frowned, for I was sure as hell that ‘we’ don’t have anything to talk about. But I gave in. Just like I always do. I gave in.

He was, after all, at one point in time, one of the closest guys to me.

“I wanted to ask you this question for such a long time already,” he began. I couldn’t look at him, though—I was distracting myself with the manang who was selling French fries, squid balls and fish balls and kikiam, cheese sticks, and gulaman.

He cleared his throat as if to catch my attention. I didn’t look at him still, but I was listening—and he knew that. “Can I court you?” he asked in a soft voice.

Can I court you—it was different from ‘I will court you’ that he used on his ex-girlfriend who happens to be one of my closest friends. I actually was the bridge for them, and was one of the few people who pushed for their ‘love team.’

I stayed silent.

He wasn’t keen on waiting—he never was. He likes to do his own thing, and not wait. One thing I have always liked about him was that he values his time, but sometimes it irritates me as well.

“Hey,” he said, nudging me a bit. I turned to him and then said, “No.”

You should have seen the look on his face. It was as if the earth had fallen on him. Or he was told that his allowance had been cut off and he’s grounded for five whole years. Or he was told that he wouldn’t graduate along with our batch.

And you know that my weakness is that I don’t want people getting hurt because of me, so I relented yet again.

“Okay. You may court me. But… I wouldn’t want people to know. Your ex is one of my dear pals, and I don’t want you to come in between us. I’m just letting you court me because you gave me that frigging look that you know would work on me.”

The sympathetic look was replaced with a wide smile. “Yes! Thank you,” he said, and he was about to hug me when I stepped away.

“Courtship mode, mister,” I reminded him. “We’re not pals here.”

He laughed, and then ran off.

To where exactly, I didn’t know.

Until you came.

–

I was there at the stairs in front of the lobby, watching some of the grade school kids play patintero and habulan, and some of the sophomores and juniors at the basketball court strutting their own stuff. Surprisingly, I wasn’t with anyone—and you knew that, didn’t you?

You came and talked to me.

I was surprised you actually had gathered the courage to talk to me—we are close, yes, but it was our big secret. You are a campus heartthrob after all, a perfect gentleman, the man in every girl’s dream. I have always liked you and you have always known that, but I was a geek and heartthrobs don’t fall for geeks.

I never stopped liking you since I first laid my eyes on you, and you knew that, and but you don’t know one thing: I probably never will stop.

“Hey.”

I need not turn to see who it was—I know your voice, know your smell, and my body seems to know your presence.

“Hey,” I said, still not looking at you.

You tugged at my uniform, and I faced you. You smiled—but it wasn’t the smile that I have always loved. It wasn’t the smile that reached your eyes.

“We’re in public,” I said, and you grinned this time. “I don’t really care. Screw them,” you said, and I smiled.

You were just confident because we only have a few weeks to spare in this crappy school. A few weeks’ worth of gossip before graduation won’t hurt, huh?

I stayed silent.

“I heard that he’s courting you,” I heard you say.

“Boy, news travels THAT fast, huh?” I replied instead. “You had just confirmed what I asked,” you said.

All right. You know me that well.

“What did he tell you guys?” I asked after a while. I know the news would reach you somehow. You and he are in the same barkada after all. Besides, nothing goes on within our batch without your barkada knowing about it—and sometimes with your barkada’s consent.

“He said that he’s going to court you. He asked you, but then you stayed quiet. He said he’d still continue anyway,” you explained, and I smirked.

“That wasn’t what really happened, huh?” you said, and I nodded. No point lying. I never could lie to you.

“I refused at first, but then gave in.”

“Typical you.”

I merely nodded at your snide remark, and then went back to watching the other students.

You made me face you again. You saw the irritation on my face, for you knew I don’t get the whole point why you’re going all kuya mode on me. Or even jealous boyfriend mode on me.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I felt chills run up my spine when you said that.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, so you better take care,” you repeated. I strained my ears, processed what you said, but still didn’t speak.

No questions asked.

You stood up and left.

Just what you meant by that, I never knew.

I never knew for one because I woke up from the dream already.

It was only a dream, and yet it made something in me stir.

The sleeping emotions inside me woke up, and I only had a lousy dream to blame.

I wish I could see you again.

I wish I could bring back the old times—when you tell your stories and I listen, and when I tell you my problems and you listen.

I wish you’d simply just get here and be by my side, get to know the new me and I’d get to know the new you. How long was it, huh?

Three, maybe, four years?

I never stopped liking you.

And I probably never will.