Behind The Mossy Facade

They both built a castle for the three musketeers.

Three musketeers who lived

So gay and almost care-free.

Luxury, the three thought they had

But the couple knew naught.

Their days filled running up and down

Those castle steps

Behind the mossy facade.

A score in passing,

The castle gave into the weight.

Floors divided,

Walls a-crumbled,

The three trapped

In their own separate chambers, and

The couple thrown into the deepest cut.

Nothing left but rambles,

And the howls

Of the couple's apologies.

The three still lived,

But never a musket

Have they dealt with

As painful as

The broken grand castle

Behind the mossy facade.

The Queen's New Shoes

I need a new pair of shoes. Seriously.

Ever noticed how you have so many variants of the same item, say, shoes for example, yet still you seem to gravitate towards that one pair that goes with anything? Or, at least, you make it go with everything. they may not be the most expensive, nor the most pretty or comfortable, yet you make the effort to wear them out.

And when they do, would you throw them out?

For a pair of shoes, a lot of people i know wouldn't. See, i grew into a culture of people who utilize things until they're utterly useless and irreparable. They'd take that pair to the repair shop at least twice before it finally got to meet the dump. All this trouble for a pair of dilapidated kicks. If it were this hard to replace something, I could only imagine how much harder it would be to replace some-ONE.

Actually, im not imagining, im finally feeling how hard it is. I've been in a slump, lately. School has been quite rough, but that is simply tolerable. No big. It is just school, as school should be. But when we talk about handling people, now that's a road I hesitate to tread.

I'm the type of person who likes to meet new people, to get to know them a bit, then just stop at a certain point. I don't really share every little detail of my life, nor do I depend on others for my happiness. I'm a loner, and I admit that, but for a few months now, I've become totally different because of someone.

well, let's just say that that person made me feel alive, and normal; made me enjoy and see things from a not-so-different perspective; made things seem more exciting. The things which I used to neglect because i thought them petty were given a whole new, more eye-catching wardrobe. Even though we had no real reason to be together, i tried to make him part for everything; because I had fun; because I fell in love.

But I guess I'm just not his favorite pair of shoes. I mean, he leaves me hanging on the shoe rack, not even trying me on. He, on the other hand, seems to be too worn to be ever worn again.

Tonight I again looked into his eyes.
Numb confusion.
who or what to believe
shouldn't be the question
because he still has
that same look in his eyes.
can he see the truth?

the usual teenage love affair

Death and I have always had this thing. 

We met the first time I almost drowned, at a romantically beautiful beach resort called “the pink flamingo”, and I’ve kept him close by for keeps since then. I know, he isn’t exactly everyone’s cup  of tea. Well, I’m a scalding hot cup of spiked white chocolate; so, yeah, we get along well and interact regularly.

Actually, we had a falling out just recently. I thought I was finally going to be happy and content with my first love, Life, but as he is quite the jealous guy, death reared his ugly head twice when I was starting to fall in love with life again. And here i am, on the flying trapeze love affair, swinging to and from both ends. I love life; but death is quite the charmer.

Now why would i stay so intricately fascinated with such an idyllically chaotic  idea of a repugnant repudiation with my life? After all, life has given me everything. Exactly. EVE-RY-THING. Mostly problems, heartbreak, and love.

As if dealing with myself and my imperfections alone is not enough of a headache, the nutcase that I am, Love has to be there to make things even more complicated.

I can do away with love. Its over-rated anyway. Ask me how many times I’ve loved/ fallen in love with someone, and how many times I’ve been loved back by them. Pff. I fall quite fast, i admit, but i stay loyal for at least half of a year until they tell me they don’t want me.

Anyway, me and life, yeah, we’re good friends. I give it what i can, and it gives me everything, but let’s leave it at that. I don’t give anything more because I am close to never satisfied with the returns. Exerting more effort wouldn’t do much since, well, it has given me everything already, so what more can there be?

Death, on the other hand, now he’s the mysterious creature in the dark. Most people are afraid of him, but that’s just because they feel they have everything to give up. I dont know why they’d feel like that. Isn’t life supposed to be a preparation for death? Good thing for me, i’ve been hanging around him for a while, so i’ve had a glimpse. 

Now all i want is to just finally get to experience it, actually.  It showed me promises that i’d be numb to all the pain—the pain of being with the person you love without actually being with him. Being numb to the feeling of being disowned by the most important person in your life: the person you chose to be with,  let's call it fleur de vive.

Surprisingly, just as i was writing that statement of ‘disownership’, life strikes up a flanking maneuver. Just a segway, my fleur de vive just happened to be awake and told me he wants to see me tomorrow, using our sacred term of endearment. I would be lying if i said i wasn’t experiencing those soft, sweet, heart-palpitations right now. But, I’m not blind anymore, either. Life can give you everything, including LIES. As previously experienced, he only calls me when he needs something. As a firm believer in giving the benefit of the doubt, well, he may actually NOT this time, but who knows.   

Numbness to the pains of life, to life as it is, and mostly, life as i know it. Yes, un momento du morir.

Out of reach

Mr sun turned and ran

Disheartening is the thought

I was always there

To help break the dawn

Yet

When the cold comes

And the fear sinks in

Mr sun is never there

Mr sun is the first to leave

I ran to chase him

But the darkness holds on

Out of reach

You left in the rain, and i didn’t stand in your way. You left me-- just when i needed you most.

Outstanding lyrics from a song of Bread. Oustanding mostly because it definitely relates to my current situation.

How would you know if he’s out of it? Or if, in my case, how would I know if there really was anything there to lose? Would the make-out sessions mean something? I mean, they say he’s totally different when it comes to me; that I’m quite special to him. I’m flattered. However, many people have lied to me before, so how sure am I that they aren’t just keeping me floating on a dream? He hasn’t said anything to me, or maybe he has, but... indirectly? Either way, I would never be so sure. Ako pa naman—pinakamanhid na tao sa mundo.

Anyway, things between us have cooled down a bit. Too cool for my taste, especially now that I’m absolutely positive that I have feelings for him. I love him. I can’t help but remembering how his lips felt and tasted, and how his arms wrapping around me felt like home. I never wanted or want him to leave, but he did, and I just let him. Am I too stupid for giving him that freedom, or was it just a dream which I just had to wake up from?

the christening

This would mark my first post on this blog. Yey.

I guess this would be the right time to explain myself and what this blog would be.

As you might have guessed, I have other blogs. This would as well be just another alternate--to express another dimension of my being. I have a dark side, no doubt. This blog should be the reason for the BLACK in the black queen.

Contrary to what you might be presuming, I will not be writing mostly about death and suicide. I am no hardcore goth. I may even only be posting articles which have at least a slight semblance of being goth, but not entirely goth. Or, I might even write something political. who knows?

so, if goth is what you're looking for, you've got the wrong blog, babe.

I hereby welcome myself to my new blog. Congratulations, I christen thee "Her Majesty Speaks"