how many nights do i have to survive before your name stops sounding like a prayer i never meant to memorize? ilang beses ko bang kailangang ulitin sa sarili ko na tapos na, na wala na, para tuluyan kong maramdaman? i keep asking myself when will your absence finally feel like absence, and not like something that still breathes quietly beside me. kailan ba titigil ang puso ko sa paghanap ng bakas mo sa mga bagay na hindi naman ikaw? in every silence, i still hear you. in every ending, i still expect you to come back and change it. i tell myself i’m moving on, pero parang kasinungalingan lang na mas madali paniwalaan kaysa tanggapin ang totoo. that you left. that you chose to leave. and that i am the only one still writing us into existence. writing became my refuge, my quiet denial, my way of holding onto something that no longer holds me. kahit ubos na ang mga salita, pilit pa rin akong nagsusulat, kasi mas masakit ang tumigil at harapin na wala ka na talaga. you don’t know this, but every sentence i build is a version of you i refuse to let go. every comma is a pause where i hope you’d come back. every period feels like a lie because nothing between us ever really ended properly. so i keep going, line after line, pretending that if i write enough, i’ll finally empty you out of me. pero bakit habang sinusulat kita, mas lalo kang nagiging totoo? bakit parang bawat salita ay hindi paglimot, kundi pagbalik? maybe i wasn’t writing to forget you at all. maybe i was writing just to feel you stay.