I could have written this poem with a boastful group of syllables that would cling to the words you never wanted to hear-
A silent requiem, that is-
Lonely when the waves of the sea hear their
Muted wailing
Well, your dilapidated woes with a streak of memory, a universal thought never tasted-
A pride of laughter,
A gushing bleed of pain.

When I stitched the bones of the bangus-
I tried to recollect our memories
The forgotten memory two souls shared
I heard the screech of the tip of the spoon and fork-
Scratching subtle
Feeling of anger;
It slashed the moment when granny envied the silent scream of the rivaled pain-
It was me and you, eating
Both, what they have left behind.

July 2, 2008
Vales beach

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