Reii怜

04/08/2025

I pity myself for letting
them treat me like that, back then.

I always swallow the least what they can offer, never minding the impact— shrugging off the fact that I feel like I wasn't enough. I've seen them offering me little of what they have, and I know that they can offer a lot to others. I felt like I was an open shed, and not a home. Whom they will choose to run to, whenever the world feels strange and heavy. I've watched them offered the best to others and I'm often excluded.

I am always the forgotten.
The unheard.
And unseen—

and I'm finally forgiving myself for letting them treat me like that. Now I know despite it all— I am enough.

—Writes Yna

04/08/2025

But the moment i step out from my walls— all i ever want is to crawl back to where i came from. Too afraid to see more and to be seen less or more. Perhaps, I became too comfortable of nothingness that even a slight peek from the walls, feels... so hard.

Ironic how i always wanted to breakthrough but the walls are too strong and high, I couldn't dare to move at all.

I hope the walls you built for yourself won’t suffocate you. It wasn’t supposed to caged you.

11/07/2025

I've always looked at you as a poetry.— I may not always find the perfect words.
But when i'm looking at your eye i see beautiful loving lines
Loving you in silence is like letting it all out in a journal.
You'll always be the melody of my poetic soul.
No, you're not just a verse but you're a theme and a goal.
You'll always be the topic of my impossible wishes and all.
You'll always be the poem that is truly mine—
In my poets you always shine.

I want to be your storyteller. and my dear, i'll write you existence, in a parchment of paper.

Oh god, you don't know but you're my paradise. You'll always be the protagonist of my imagination, the heroine of my heart and the armor of my story.

You'll be the calm sunlight in my creative storm. You'll be the voice that my inks shout— and the main reason that my quill runs out.

You'll be the rhythm of my poetic soul. You'll be the notes that compose my symphony.
you are the most beautiful soul in the surface of earth. Dreamy eyes and full curiousity for the world.
I may be the vintage heart that loves you like there's nobody else— you're the definition of love, beauty, poetry and art i guess.

My dear confidant, "You are poetry to me, a masterpiece that provokes my own art."

—Rei, the muse of the dreadful sea.

11/07/2025

Just because
you’re not loud about your battles
doesn’t mean they’re small.

Some fights happen
behind calm eyes
and steady smiles.

Some strength
isn’t shouted,

it’s shown in how you keep going

when no one sees the struggle.

- - - - - - - -
07112025

11/07/2025

Krayola

Ako’y isang krayolang naputol sa kahon ng mundo.
Itinaboy at nilayo, tinuring na magulo.
Sa lipunang may hulma at iisang tama,
ang kulay na naiiba’y agad na masama.

Naputol man kami, hindi dahil kami’y mahina.
Kundi ang anyo namin ay di nila sanay makita.
May takdang disenyo ang kahon ng lipunan,
tatlong kulay lamang ang wasto. Puti, itim at ang abo. ang iba’y lihis raw dito.

Kami ay isang krayolang
putol ang dulo’t hugis.
May lamas sa katawan at kaya namang maibigkis.
Ngunit tama ba na ang buo lang ang may saysay?
Ang may bitak, putol, ibang kulay ay agad itataboy sa buhay?

Ngunit krayola pa rin kahit putol ang katawan,
may kulay pa rin,
At kayang mapakinabangan.
Hindi man kasing tino ng inaasahan nila,
ngunit ang guhit namin ay totoo, malinaw, at may diwa.

Sa bawat papel na ayaw kaming tanggapin,
Hiiling namin ang mundong handang umunawa’t dinggin.
Mundong makulay, may dangal at tinig.
Kung saan ang bawat kulay ay may puwang at ibig.

Kami ang kasariang hindi ikinakahon,
Sapagkat hindi lamang tatlo ang kulay ng panahon.
Ang kasarian ay krayolang sa bahaghari ay nagbibigay buhay,
hindi guhit na pilit ipinapantay.

Hindi kami hihingi ng bagong kahon,
Kung saan kami “nababagay”.
Dahil sa mundong ito, dapat lahat ay pantay-pantay.

Sapagkat ang mundo’y maputla kung iisa lang ang kulay,
walang lalim at walang saysay ang buhay.

At kung naputol man kami sa kamay ng lipunan,
Hindi doon nagtatapos ang aming katauhan.
Dahil kung mundo’y walang pagkakapantay pantay,
Siyang buhay na tila kapos ng malay.

R,1978

11/07/2025

11/07/2025

to be loved, is to be seen.
| yaw, in a place lost in time— 1944

11/07/2025

| yaw, 1944

11/07/2025

did you ever thought of your soul having a room? like, what would our soul look like if it had a room?

i was taken aback by my own thought. and it made me wonder. and maybe i’ll say, it would be a plain old book. because books are where stories live. and my soul is full of stories.

but if you will dug deeper, i will say; it would be a room filled with memories i’ve never shared with anyone. the walls would be adorned with pages torn from books i’ve never read and old photographs where every picture tells a story about moments i’ve kept hidden. there would be a desk in the corner, cluttered with scraps of paper bearing half written letters to the people i’ve love and lost.

and in the center of the room, a single chair would sit vacant and expectant — waiting for someone to sit and listen to my deepest yearnings. the chair would be waiting for someone who knows how to listen to my silence. someone who can hear the whispers of my past, and understand the language of my heart.

my room would have soft and golden lighting like the sunset i’ve always admire. but there would be shadows too, shadows that represents my side that was hidden. the side that lie shrouded in darkness, afraid to be neglected.

the room’s floor also creaks because it could no longer carry the weight of all her unsaid thoughts. and the air? it’s the scent of old paper and dusts — for it was left there, abandoned. it was as if the room had been forgotten, been left untouched, unvisited, and unloved. but even all the mess, there will always be beauty. a beauty that only someone who dug deeper will see and understand.

it would be a place of beauty and ugliness. a place where the pieces of my soul was scattered. and yet, i would find a beauty that only the most discerning eyes could perceive. a beauty that remains even as the dust of forgetfulness accumulates.

but i knew that i would always return to that room, again and again. not to tidy up or fix its disorder. but to revisit the old memories that haunts me and to relive the moments that will never happen again. for in that room, i had left a part of me that no one else will understand. even decades may pass and the dust will cover the whole room, the beauty of that room would always remain. and even though it may be forgotten by the world, it will never be forgotten by me.

that room was my soul, a beautiful mess. and i will always return to it when i’m LOST. ’cause in that room, i am FOUND.

// himig, laging sawi sa pag-ibig, unit 9