FEBRUARY COMPILATION (15 / 02 / 26)

•  End of Heartbreak
• (Don't) Choose Me
• Quiet.
• A Pretentious Poet's Remorse.
• Isolation.
• Sunset Eyes.
• December 3.
• Pictures.
• Unnamed Feeling.
•  The Poet's To-Be
• Charm.
• Unreciprocated Efforts.
• The Pain of Your Absence. 
•  

End of Heartbreak

Lately I’ve found myself unable to love another
Without poisoning the golden glass we drink from,
With a drop or two of the jealousy I can’t smother.

Knowing my beloved is friend of some other men
Ignites in me a feeling of unworthiness I can’t tame,
For they’re handsome, better than me in every sense.

Even if all I get is a name, I know they’re better.
It doesn’t take much to outdo a guy like myself,
So pretty much anybody else could deserve her.

Now I’m no cuck, for this is no fetish; it’s a curse,
A punishment born from my inability to trust my own.
As a result, I break myself to the point of departure.

How can I trust my love won’t cheat when, evidently,
She’s surrounded by men that can make her happy anyday?
If she does choose to stay with me, it’d be solely out of pity.

And honestly, I’d not blame Her for leaving me behind.
For I would too if I had a boyfriend like myself,
Whose ugliness is unrivaled in both body and mind.

I’ve got no money to gift, no beauty to offer, nothing.
Yet knowing that, I keep trying to find true love, hopeful,
Knowing well the kind of monster I’m slowly becoming.

 
Even without being in a relationship, if I do chase her,
The door stays open for anybody to take her away,
For I will never deserve to stand beside as her forever.

 

(DON’T) CHOOSE ME

Eight billion people live on the same planet we both live on,
Four billions of them are men, men of all kinds and races.
With that fact you know is an objective truth even within,
Why’d you choose me? Why not choose another over this disgrace?

My face is marred, swollen, inexpressive—ain’t it sickening?
Can you picture yourself kissing my puffed cheeks or broken lips?
I’d puke at the thought of it, and I don’t feel you’re listening.
How can’t you find disgust in my flabby and wide hips?

There are many handsome, chiseled, god-like men out there;
Rich, powerful, influential, kind, considerate, enviable…
Why pick the rotten flesh of a fiend? To you, it’s not fair.

There are men with smarts, skills, athleticism, and even manners,

Things I lack severely in more than one metaphorical sense.
My withered heart bears a shack, whilst you deserve a manor.
Accept it for once: I’m a pick-me, a monstrous man, dense…

Stop reciprocating my feelings, stop choosing me—don’t do it.
For I won’t say no straight up; I’ll accept you in, I’ll love you.
But know well you grabbed a pebble instead of gold from the pit.
Regret now before it’s too late. Leave, run, hate me as I do.

One day I’ll harm you, one day you’ll realize you chose wrong.
One day you’ll see and suffer the consequences of your choice.
I love you, but my love is corrupt—choose well, try to be strong.
Don’t listen to your heart’s voice, don’t listen to your heart’s voice. 

Quiet

In silence I stay, awaiting to be wanted,
Knowing very well I don’t deserve so.
I wait, I wait; I don’t even get a “Hello.”
If I never initiated, they’d have never responded.

My spirit once happily pursued others for a chat;
Doing so was the highlight of my lonesome youth,
Till one day it realized, at last, one silly little truth:
If he doesn’t greet first, nobody wonders where he’s at.

My tears and pains—I faced them all by myself, alone;
My joys and happiness were unknown as well to all.
Neither my friends nor family—nobody’s ever known
The many times I broke my bones and hurt from the fall.

They see a quiet man; they don’t see my misery, my desire,
My longing to be chosen against my will, twisted as it may sound.
I don’t want to ask or search to find, but to be asked for and found;
Otherwise I feel weak, needy, dumb… like a man in dog’s attire.

 

A Pretentious Poet’s Remorse

I write the things my mind dictates, the feelings my heart expresses,
Retell the tales people have forgotten, and tell of myself, of life itself,
My hands explore the page swiftly, looking for defeats and successes,
The page may be blank, but it’s not empty; I see it, a mirror to the self.

Yet I remain a failure as a poet, for I lack the nurtured intellect of one,
The rhymes I use, I see them on a website; the things I say, I look ’em up,
My efforts being null in comparison to what old poets would’ve done,
They had to read, draft, think, and that’s just the bottom of the cup.

They researched, experimented, even wrote about what they lived,
Yet I have the power to do all that with one miserable, quick click,
Reducing hours of the mindful efforts from which their works derived,
Shaming this noble art under the fraudulent pen name of Quinn Nick.

I complain as if the world would care, as if any of that mattered,
Writing about people as if they held any relevance to the reader,
Yet I know… nobody cares, nobody reads the crap I’ve scattered,
I’m but another blind sheep, a mangy hound without a leader.

My hands were never stained by the ink, nor cut by the paper,

My eyes never felt the aid of candlelight in the middle of the night,

Not even once I studied the art, I’ve done no more than escaping Her,

Poe, Rilke, Hardy, Homer, Hesiod, to write they earned their right

And I haven’t — I’m not even trying to — and that’s blasphemous,

Should the ignorant write about things he knows nothing about?

I’m but a maggot whose soul and heart are in evidence, astonished.

There are tools without which my stanzas would certainly be nothing.

I’m feeding my ego and betraying a thousand years of tradition,

Feeding it nonsense I share online on a stupid blogger page, shameless,

True poets would have never made the very pathetic choices I’ve made,

They’d disapprove if they could see the scam I show off, ever blameless.

 

Isolation

I isolate myself in my room to write nonsense again and again,
Waking up as early as five in the morning, six, even seven at times.
I’m told to sleep, but I can’t—not until I’ve cleared up my mental den
From any and all impurities with the most repugnant rhymes.

Every stanza written, for as bad as it may be, helps me find comfort
In what otherwise I’d define as a horrible world devoid of all hope.
My body aches, my eyes feel heavy, and make evident my discomfort,
Yet they’d not understand why, even in exhaustion, I’d use this to cope.

As my vessel falls apart, I make it my duty to report so textually,
In a crazed attempt to craft art, though I lack the talent and skills.
My weakened hands type in a frenzy that might fade eventually,
The moment fatigue, nausea, its role of warning me, comes to fulfill.

The plastic chair barely holds my weight as I fall back onto the floor,
Product of sleep deprivation and the stubborn habit of waking early
When I have absolutely nothing to do but the useless hobbies I adore.
By the time the sun’s above me, I know I’ll look saggy-faced and surly.

My body sinks into the floor, my head lies set in place, my arms numb.
I close my eyes, giving in to the sensation of absolute defeat in the end,
And the morning comes to pass—glad to my biological needs I succumb.
One day, the delusional things I write about will lead me to transcend.

 

Sunset Eyes

I see a beautiful sunset when I look into your eyes;

They’re warm, cozy, dark and yet bright—mesmerizing,

My favorite pair because they’re yours, which implies

That I love your features, beholding and memorizing.

Though it’s true today our bodies are apart, our hearts aren’t,

What we’re building surpasses all borders and the seven seas;

A love that won’t be taken by jealousy and fear to its knees.

Your heart houses my own, and my own houses yours as well,

There have been no days when we’ve not chosen each other,

Up to the point that, unknowingly, in love with you I fell,

And yes, I was reluctant, but there are flames we can’t smother.

Though we haven’t labeled it yet, we know where we stand,

And know the name of this, but we fear making a wrong move,

For love is to be taken seriously, and we know so firsthand.

Regardless of the outcome, what we have can only improve.

December 3

On the third day of December, our story began,

We met online and shared pieces of each other,

Told stories and facts about our individual lives, and

Intended to build something meaningful with one another.

I tried to scare you away in more than one pathetic way,

Yet you stood there, understanding, instead of blocking me,

You painted reason and compassion in a landscape of gray;

Somehow your words came to me, and I couldn’t but agree.

Later on, you’d bear my silence and fill it with attention,

I’d try to make you lose interest, but to no avail, again,

It’s as if being apart only strengthened our mutual affection;

You dissipated my toxicity, made me feel chosen among men.

Eventually, I’d open up and make my move to steal your heart,

But it’d seem as if the gates that protect it were never sealed,

I treated you as my girlfriend, and you’ve never stood apart,

You allowed me to love freely, to pick you from the flower field.

That’s when I understood I was determined to be yours,

I already was, but now I had to wait till Valentine’s to confess;

And you can’t imagine how slow it felt to wait days and hours.

Even if I knew that in the end my attempt would be a success.

Up to this day, I’m glad things happened the way they did,

Because now we’re heading towards a future so beautiful

That I’d not have fathomed when I was a young and naive kid,

Yet that to our now adult selves seems more than suitable.

Pictures

I bet you have no idea of how goofy I feel

When I see the pictures you send of yourself,

And it’s that I can’t help but smile; you’re real.

The woman I love—you—missing half of my self.

Ah, I sigh, because your smile makes my heart melt,

Your eyes reassure me, and your lips invite me in,

Your arms seem cozy, making me feel things I never felt:

Safety, love, attention, desire for another’s warm skin.

Everything about you became my favorite somewhere,

I could make a map of your soul, pinpoin where I want to be,

And love you ever intensely and genuinely from there,

Promising to cherish you and always fill your heart with glee.

Can’t wait for the day I no longer have to see you there,

But next to me, wake up, and know it was all worth the wait,

You’re the woman with whom my entire life I want to share.

If our first kiss were at the airport, wouldn’t it be great?

Unnamed Feeling

When I’m with you, I feel comfortable,

I don’t fear being cheated on or left aside;

Being apart doesn’t even make me uncomfortable,

I miss you, yes, but I know you’re still by my side.

I’m one to overthink a lot, yet with you I don’t,

I don’t find interest in many things till you mention them,

I see you and I feel calm; and contrary to how I felt with most,

I trust you, and if I ask things, you reply and don’t condemn.

You include me into your life and tell me about it fully,

You share your joys, pains, and even fears so freely,

Knowing well I’m here to understand you, surely,

TO help you navigate them securely and purely.

Ah, and even supporting my hobbies from the stem,

Just the way I support yours as well, oh my beloved,

How can I not see you as my adored sparkling gem?

Your actions tend to make me happy and even feel loved.

I want to be with you for life, regardless of what we are,

I fell in love with you for the person you are and have been,

Yet there’s a lot I may not know, and from knowing it all I’m far,

But that’s no obstacle; I’ll understand and love you from within.

The Poet’s To-Be

Upon closing my eyes, I saw a lamplit room, and a typewriter;
There were sheets of paper around it, scribbled on, empty, typed in…
Bookshelves on the sides so full one could pull an all-nighter
And still have books to read the next day with a wide grin.

The windows behind the Remington’s setup showed a verdant scenery;
Darkness engulfed it—nighttime’s breeze felt cold yet pleasant;
There was also a wooden board on the wall, no more machinery;
Furthermore the wallpaper was antique-looking, but not really aberrant.

Past this, a white door was introduced; leading to a pearly hallway;
Beside it, a room hosted a large bed, a wardrobe and a silver mirror;
Next to it, a LED-lit living room, wide and cozy, came into display.
It smelled like sampaguita, felt safe—but didn’t make things any clearer.

I looked for answers as to where I was, why it felt so familiar
When never before had I visited such a welcoming place;
Nearly everything was written in a language, to me, unfamiliar.
On the corner of my eye, I spotted a shadow, an unknown face.

My legs moved on their own, dragging me to where she was,
But she was gone, so I reached for the door she hid behind of,
And saw a woman lying on the ground for no discernible cause;
Looking up, I noticed a starry sky—the answer revealed right above.

Similarly, I sat down next to her and beheld her mature features;
In them I found a resemblance to a pinay love I once had, to my muse;
And then all came to me—memories of which we’d be weavers:
This was my future; my Charm was in it, the one I swore never to lose.

Everything felt real till time’s fabric collapsed tearing itself apart;
A deafening shriek pierced my ears, forcing my eyes shut and then…
When I opened them once more, my tightened chest met a racing heart,
A notebook lay open before me, my hands typed—I was home again.

Charm

Charm, my valentine, what can I tell you that you don’t know already?
Well, you know my feelings, for you’ve read through me before I spoke,
That my deep affections have remained ever consistent and steady,
Given you never denied me entrance into your heart, even when in joke.

Having heard of my flaws, having seen the vessel I deem to be gross,
You’ve chosen to stay in spite of my many attempts to scare you away,
And I can’t help but wonder if there’s something to which I’m oblivious;
Even with life in the way, we kept choosing each other every single day.

Yes, some days we stood in silence; we both detached, tried to escape,
But somehow all the roads led to the same spot, to our safe, loving spot.
You have read about the kind of man I am; you’ve seen my soul’s shape,
Yet by the internal shadows I sought to fight, you refused to get caught.

My muse, friend, and crush—I thank your efforts to see through me,
And this very day, day of the lovers, I write you this in honest praise,
Highlighting the humanity and kindness that in you I came to see,
In a way I’ve gotten used to celebrate you who sets my heart ablaze.

Happy Valentine’s Charm, unexpected sovereign of my noble heart,
May this event lead our story to the shores of nurturing abundance,
As we purposely write, word by the word, the outcome of our art,
Whilst our souls, hand-in-hand, enjoy what’s left of love’s dance.

 

Unreciprocated Efforts

Have you ever experienced the pain of one-sided love?
It hurts like you can’t imagine, burns your skin like fire,
For you give your all to get nothing from your sacred dove.

Love, it’s a curse, a prize for some — a dual tool of suffering and joy.
No matter how much you love, if the other person doesn’t return it,
You’ll suffer in limbo and feel no better than a disposable toy.

Don’t ever gift your heart to who’s not ready to receive it,
Nor promise futures that the very logistics won’t allow to be,
Otherwise you’ll allow Love to chip away your soul bit by bit.

It’s a tough lesson to learn, a difficult addiction to leave behind,
Yet you must never let Love intoxicate your most rational senses.
This parasite we label positive has the skill to destroy your mind.

To love someone that allows you to but never meets you halfway
Is by far one of the most horrible experiences in the human world,
For it feels like living day after day in a constant state of decay.

The hunter who hunts in the same spot daily gets nothing,
For love, like life, is about moving forward as time goes by,
Thus stagnancy would do no good other than numbing.

 

The Pain of Your Absence

Painful is your absence, regardless of how hard I try to mask it;
I deeply believe you’ll return, yet uncertainty consumes me still.
If only you knew that the very day I lost you, I was ready to commit
To a lifetime by your side, doubtless, out of my own love and free will.

Hear me out once, one last time; hear my prayers, my remorse…
Muse of mine, return to me; I beg, I kneel, I shed tears for you
In hopes something changes this seemingly doomed course;
If I were to lose you forevermore, what could I even do?

You’re essential to me—irreplaceable, unique, my dearest.
How could I possibly lose you to one misplaced move?
I remember from day one swearing that I’d give it my best,
And I stick by that truth, for I’ve always strived to improve.

But love of mine, is it fair for any of us to walk away right now?
I don’t think it is, after all we’ve shared, said, and spent together.
Such a pain to be forever inflicted on one another I can’t allow,
And so is the reason I strive and still try to fight this stormy weather.

My love, my charm, return to me one last time; let us discuss this,
For maybe in this struggle lies the key to our promised forever.
Messy I may be, yet I won’t give up on us—it’s the way it is.
Let us rebuild our castle, my Queen; let it be our last endeavor.