No Goodbyes (and an Announcement)

It’s been a while. To fill you in on what’s been going on – it has been a month since our #LoveTeamForever day. And so here’s a little poem from “Chocolate Ink” for you all. 🍫

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NO GOODBYES

You dip your head and whisper
“Goodbye”
I reach out, breathe out
“Take care…”

Fast forward to a few
months from now, we
won’t have to
utter restrained
farewells

We’ll fall into
bed and fall
asleep

Home
in each other’s arms

© Mari Anjeli

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Weak Spot and Happy Pill

You are my weak spot and happy pill. I barely know how to resist you nor can I ever deny you. I can’t keep a grudge on you for too long. But then there are days when you frustrate me, devastate me, and I try to rack my brains as to the what, the why, the how did I ever fall for you in the first place?

But even after my emotions go plummeting down, one dose of you and I’m up above the clouds again.

weak-spot

No More Countdowns

I’ve only realized all my countdowns have disappeared. I used to keep track of the days till our next rendezvous – 157 days, 98 days, 85 days, 63, 47, 22, 10, 5, 1. But now, time has already started to stretch on till eternity, like train tracks that seem to have no end.

At times, I still get anxious when I don’t see you in a while. But then, I simply breathe in and remind myself, “I’ll see you on Friday, I’ll see you on Sunday, I’ll see you soon, soon.” The days are no longer numbered. Fridays, Sundays – they are all tomorrows, and they sneak up on me as quickly as the next train stop.

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Second Time Around

You know the feeling when you watch a movie the second time around? How that sense of familiarity sinks in and you suddenly realize, Ohhh, that’s what it was all about…? I feel like I am watching things the second time around.

Or the third. Or the fourth. Or the fifth. Or the nth.

One time you took me to Makati and we spent a good portion of the night looking for an open coffee shop. The rain was drizzling on our cheeks. We paused. I told you the story of that one time we ran through the rain, when you sent me off to the bus going back to my hometown. You didn’t really remember. We walked on and settled on the café across the street from your office building.

I almost got lost the next time I tried to go there. Then by the next return, it was like coming home. And now as I roam Ayala’s pavements, I feel like I am watching this movie the second time around.

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Ayala by late PM.

21 Days of Poetry: Author’s Choice #1

10 days in. I will be choosing three poems to share here. The best ones, so far, I think. Here is choice #1:

Love Letters

This back and forth
Exchange of mail
Sent in packets
Through time
Sways through the air
Like lovers
Moving in a slow
Tentative dance

I bear my heart
You bear yours –
Our words embracing us and each other

Electronic ink
Temporarily standing in for
Our hands
Our breaths
Our lips
And sighs

Letter #6: Letter to that Special Someone

Hello love, how do you do?
I think I’m somewhat missing you
But don’t you worry ’cause I’ll be alright
‘Cause you’re the one who makes me smile at night
And in the morning and the evening and the afternoon
So let’s just chill, relax, we’ll see each other soon
And be together, together, again

(Mari Anjeli, LDR Story)

Here we are, living out this LDR Story. Here we are, connected by the Internet, by cellphone lines, by thoughts and prayers — attempting to bridge the gap. I’m not going to complain any longer. I am grateful for what we have.

Being grateful does wonders. Being grateful and looking forward – these, along with lots of heart-rending prayers are my secrets. They are some of my keys to staying strong. Because when there are too many miles, too many minutes, too many days, too many weeks, too many months between us, it’s far too easy to either be numb or weak. But I choose to be neither.

I look forward to moments your name pops up on screen. To moments my blue Nokia phone buzzes, may it be in the middle of the day or night (as it often does). I look forward to hearing your voice – hyped up at times, crazed out some others, but my favorite is when it’s slow and relaxed. Most of all, I look forward to moments when I’m physically next to you, when we’re holding hands, when all these times we are apart become distant memories we have used to teach us, to strengthen us.

I know we’ll be able to see this through. By the grace of God, we will see this through.

Homemade Spaghetti and Carrot Cake

He cooked for me, you know. This October, when he fetched me from the airport.

“Let’s have breakfast. Do they charge for corkage here?”

They didn’t. I ordered hot tea for me and an iced chocolate drink for him. He brought out two plastic containers filled with spaghetti, and then a third filled with bread sticks. He then brought out two sets of colorful utensils – two plastic spoons; two plastic forks.

“Wow!”

“I ate my lunch at my work station so that I could buy the ingredients for this. I cooked this after work at the girls’ house. I told them you just threw random stuff into your frying pan so I wanted to cook for you this time. And you know how costly airport food is.”

“I know. Aww. Thank you.”

“And I bought this, too. Tada! It’s really yum.”

“Carrot cake! I’ve been craving for something sweet all week!”

“There you go. Cravings satisfied.”

“Thank you.”

I had found myself moping because he only gave me flowers that one time. But as I chewed on the spaghetti, as I took a bite from the cake, I realized how incredibly loved I was.

“Is it good?”

“It is.”