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Your words, my silence.
You were explaining — again.
How this was that, how that’s not so,
how this was now and that was then,
and really now, you said,
can’t I remember when …?
At which point, I was zoning out, thinking —
Is it me … or is it you?
But would it still matter if we know,
if what you said was indeed true?
It’s quite tiring, won’t you agree?
Scratching at old wounds,
poking and looking —
until there’s nothing left to see
and we’re both just unraveling,
wounded by words — impugned.

My silence, your words.
We are quite a pair, you and I ….
Or maybe I’m wrong, this is all a lie.
You say, I think.
We’re caught in a poker game
and we’re not allowed to blink.
Would things change, if I say …
Or should you say — sorry?
Would I be content
and calmly accept your story?

And now I’m out of cards, but this I know ….
My world, your words have bent me so low.

Last night … adrift in twilight,
I woke up and my hand was up
I was caught in a dilemma,
Running around with your words, my world
in a dead beat never-ending coma.
What to do? What card on the table to lay?
Do I even still want to play?

Your words — your rules.
No more. Enough. Things will now change,
things are about to get shuffled and rearranged.
My rules — my world.
And this time I’m taking you out — cold.
My world — my words.
And they sounded sweet in my ear
Everything, right now, looks crystal clear.
My words — no games.
I am not yours to tame.
Your game — your trash.
I’m done and you’re just all awash.

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Image taken from http://timedotcom.files.wordpress.com

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“Tampuhan” (Lover’s Quarrel) by Juan Luna

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