sober // poetry

hungkag ang may alam, hungkag ang may laman

it is inside me.
and i speak of honesty,
when i confess about this truth.

it is inside me.
it comes in the form of an antidote— the mend that cuts your skin,
the cure that kills.
it fills me,
but the lacunae in my flesh stay hollow.
and most nights,
it is its gentle hand that bruises my neck.
and all these happen,
when the moon is the only companion that breathes, alongside with
the baby's breath on the windowsill,
which is my only witness:
for it carries the ears of an angel
and it holds the eyes of the same.

it can testify
how the grand reunion happens:
wherein tears kiss my cheeks,
and weapons of pungency
find its way to my skin.

it is inside me.
and i speak of lies,
when i say i can
confess about the truth.
because it tells me
to seal my lips,
and let the baby's breath speak for me,
when the grand reunion happens again,
at last:
six feet under,
when my skin reaches the earth;
above,
when my cheeks touch the clouds.