Comments Posted By Airiz

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5: 32 PM. Time is a cruel god. I was standing there, staring blankly at the doodled cities on my Chucks, waiting for your sharp footfalls to echo in the halls. Will you come soon? It felt as if eternities have already passed, but I still wasn’t able to glimpse a shadow of your presence. The you-shaped void beside me makes me sore, makes me ache. Will you come soon? It’s been forever since I last saw you.

5: 33 PM

» Posted By Airiz On 11.26.2012 @ 4:46 am


The poverty of language hindered him from spilling his heart out, but the way he raked his clumsy fingers through his locks, the blushed pallor that he sported while avoiding my stares, and the way he tried to keep his trembled lips locked with his teeth…all these telltale things needed no words for his secret to bleed through.

» Posted By Airiz On 08.04.2012 @ 12:48 am


I pressed my ears against his chest and heard–felt–there, caged and suffocated, the sound of the beatings of a hummingbird’s wings. I traced little heart-shapes on his skin, right on the top of the throbs, wondering if I will still hear its frantic beating when the sun rises tomorrow.

» Posted By Airiz On 04.21.2012 @ 8:23 pm


Sometimes she doesn’t know who’s wrong—she or them. It sure feels right, but because she is not in the position to say anything she likes, to defend what she believes, to make any sound from beneath the tape they’ve slapped on her lips, her perspective of things became off-kilter. The blazes of the mirages she’s seeing gnaws at her belly, burning it and everything in it—the butterflies and the crumbling food for thoughts—until they fall to ashes. And she will wait until a phoenix rises from them.

» Posted By Airiz On 04.02.2012 @ 9:30 am


He shook the headphones off his ears when the music’s unpalatable tang sank into his tastebuds. Sometimes he wonders why heartbroken people still listen to songs that tell them terrible things about love. Sometimes, he wonders why he still joins their “martyrs” horde. But he muses, maybe that’s what real love is. You let your past swing from the tangles of your aching heart and be okay with it…because pain is an important part of the package.

» Posted By Airiz On 03.07.2012 @ 9:23 am


The sun was so outraged today that he sent blistering fingers to squeeze out all the salty rainwater from everyone’s skins. I stooped, imbibed the last drops from my canteen, and let myself be squeezed some more. I was a warm, human raincloud. The heat wave is still rolling.

» Posted By Airiz On 03.03.2012 @ 10:50 pm


The crickets’ nighttime songs swaddled him in a solemn blanket of atmosphere. On evenings like this, he always liked to lie on the roof and gaze up at the glowing beauty of the moon. But the night’s Queen is not full tonight; she sat gingerly on the wisps of ghostly clouds, bending to mimick the shape of the Cheshire Cat’s grin. He still loves her glow, though. It’s still magical. He crawled on the rust-caked roof and let himself be bathed with the meager magic light emanating from her, his head lolling to an unheard lullaby.

» Posted By Airiz On 02.28.2012 @ 8:01 am


It was supposed to be cold inside the trembling, four-walled container. But it wasn’t. A few wisps of his bangs fluttered into the air when he blew at them, when he was trying to think of a way to banish the awkwardness. He stole another glance from the other occupant. Shiny hair, like a raven’s unfurled wing. An upturned nose. Curling eyelashes. How can she be so beautiful? His lips formed the word “hi” when suddenly, the button for the 8th floor blinked. He held in a sigh and walked out the lift. He turned around one last time. His heart almost stopped when she gave him a lipsticked smile before the metal doors slid to shield her from his desperate adoration.

» Posted By Airiz On 02.26.2012 @ 6:24 am


The dots on the pavement–angry-red and night-black–connected with each other as they trace the sweet highway toward a pillow of bread and crystal sugar. In a gigantic, dangerous dome where we live in, noticing the intricacies of small life can sometimes open a new window that will remind us that Tiny Things make the world seem livelier.

» Posted By Airiz On 02.17.2012 @ 6:56 am


They resumed the dance of blades under the ersatz guidance of the fluorescents, their hearts leaping at the alternating singsong of their foils and the ragged music of their breaths. Fencing is their favorite pes de deux, because in it, he is hers, and she is his–the world doesn’t own them for a few violent minutes. The coldness of their swords’ handles usually seep into their skins, but it goes unnoticed, overlapped by their desires to cleave each other’s shells of apathy. Their masks. Their perpetual facades.

By the end of every duel, they leave each other soul-naked.

» Posted By Airiz On 01.22.2012 @ 9:23 pm


The way she stood at the ledge of the terrace, with a tiara of leaves seated on her hair, clutching a book in one hand and raising the other, reminded him of the Statue of Liberty. He admired the sight: the ropes of golden sunbeams snaked into her dark disheveled locks, and her eyes were laughing silently at the blue vastness of the firmament. Suddenly, she wasn’t a statue anymore. She was a goddess, and the epiphany made his heart skip a beat.

» Posted By Airiz On 01.19.2012 @ 12:29 pm


She is so unlike those stick-thin and posts-tall women that were molded especially for the spotlit catwalks: she is plain, hair is a jungle of ink-black hair, there is a tinge of sadness in her smile that never goes away, and there are little scars that people can and cannot see. But don’t let appearances deceive you: she is a struggling model in her own way. The world is her own runway, the heart on her sleeve is her best outfit, her confident strides across the rocky roads of her decisions are her own lovely struts. There may be no camera flashes or whirlwinds of confetti around her, but the only approval she wants come from herself, and from Him.

» Posted By Airiz On 01.21.2012 @ 8:54 am


Fear is a savage beast that resides in your heart. It feeds on all the doubts and lies and tears and pain you harbor inside, fattening itself so that one day, it may destroy you completely. Don’t hold on to its poisoned fangs; look up and see how tomorrow arrives as it tints the sky a lovely hue. You are the only one who can banish the monster inside you. Bandage your wounds; move on. Trust yourself.

» Posted By Airiz On 01.09.2012 @ 12:37 pm


I pressed my fingers against my temples, pretending that it would help me wake up the muses slumbering in the hollows of my cranium. The paper under my pen point was white and blank, mocking me, challenging me to mar its surface with a hurricane of words. Sometimes I think I need to bleed ink in order to do that.

» Posted By Airiz On 12.15.2011 @ 10:20 am


The candy wrapper I picked up that afternoon was a mosaic of shoeprints. It made me wonder about the lives of people who stepped on it—they’re all going different paths, they have different destinations, and they wove different plans in their heads about their hundred-hundred tomorrows. At some point in their journey, their souls converge or slide upon each other without knowing it. This wrapper is a witness. If our souls ever bump into each other, will we be aware of it? Will you let the chance pass? Will another wrapper be recording our asymptotic history in its thin surface?

» Posted By Airiz On 11.10.2011 @ 9:10 am


When the tears seeped through the blindfold of my fingers, I know that it’s useless to plaster the upturned frown I was donning the whole day. Then I heard the sobs of the thunderclouds outside, followed by the loud splatter of rain. The roofs and the pavements were slippery with tears. I smiled through my sadness, because at the moment I know I’m not alone. The sky is an empath.

» Posted By Airiz On 11.05.2011 @ 7:53 am


Lots of things happen whenever I’m teetering on the edge of wakefulness, where a millimeter from my toe I can see the steep staircase that goes down to my version of dreamland. Sometimes I imagine what tomorrow would be like by taking a risky glance behind me, checking the shape of my footprints. Sometimes I just look ahead, pretending that I’m some sort of a tightrope walker that needed to get to the other side. Either way I’m at an impasse, and until winds from my memory would push me into the abyss, I would stay transfixed at that position for as long as I can.

» Posted By Airiz On 10.03.2011 @ 10:31 am


Life is forever unfair. For most of the time you spent living, you will be slithering along the metaphorical leaves of knowing what’s good, what’s bad, what’s between them, like a caterpillar attempting to know his place in the world. There will come a time when you have to curl up in a cocoon, to brood about what you have learned so far, and when you emerge out of this temporary home, you will soar, sliding along the playful winds of fate that take you places. And just when you think you are the freest creature on earth, someone comes along to clip your wings. Someone will be there, waiting with the rust-caked scissors…

» Posted By Airiz On 09.09.2011 @ 5:03 pm


There’s a mayhem inside my system, right inside the ribcage; everything is a mess. Not that You’re my personal cleanup man, but You came anyway, kneading sponges of love on the scratches of my heart, mopping up spilt milk and fragments of broken hopes around the corners. “You’ll get it done, trust me,” You said with a light tap on my shoulder. And I do–trust You, that is–because that’s what I always do: trust God.

» Posted By Airiz On 09.02.2011 @ 7:38 am

All her interest in hopscotch evaporated from her head when she stepped outside, for the ground felt spongy beneath her clenched toes; a thin layer of brownish leaves from the old Narra carpeted the road. It felt soft, exactly like a rug, and she happily jumped over it, sending a flurry of leaves around her. If only the leaves were real sponges, maybe they could seep the overflowing happiness from her that moment alone…

» Posted By Airiz On 09.02.2011 @ 7:27 am


The roads were slippery that day, drenched by the tears I shed not so long ago. I don’t know. My thoughts, they were the pedestrians that were crossing the dampen streets, clumsy and bumping and apologizing. I tried to cast a smile, but it was hard. The thrumming of my heart was too deafening to hear a single note from somebody else’s heart. It was a busy day in the avenue of my mind.

» Posted By Airiz On 08.31.2011 @ 11:43 pm

The roads were slippery that day, drenched by the tears I shed not so long ago. I don’t know. My thoughts, they were the pedestrian that were crossing the dampen streets, clumsy and bumping and apologizing. I tried to cast a smile, but it was hard. The thrumming of my heart was too deafening to hear a single note from somebody else’s heart. It was a busy day in the avenue of my mind.

» Posted By Airiz On 08.31.2011 @ 11:42 pm

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