(no subject)
A boring story
You’re yawning again. You’re maybe bored like I am. Dejavu of what’s like yesterday. We’re both sitting on a bench, same posture, but only different vice. I, finishing my pack of flip top and you, the vice of minutely looking at your wristwatch. And just like yesterday, an hour passed, our waiting is over. I, started to rush to my next class and you, started to smile because your boyfriend finally arrived.
You’re yawning again. You’re again bored like I am. But something’s missing; it’s not exactly like yesterday. This time, as if you’ve quitted your vice. You’re no longer gazing at that watch. And again, an hour passed, you’re not moving, not even wearing a smile.
You’re yawning again. You’re again bored like I am. How come? A new suitor is at your side. Or maybe because, he’s not doing anything, not even uttering a single word. Torpe. I laughed for I was once like him. An hour passed, if we only knew each other; we’ll both say ‘Good Luck’.
You’re yawning again. You’re again bored like I am. This time, he’s holding your hand. And the way he holds, evidently his first time. I laughed for again I saw myself in him. You’re bored for I know he’s not the usual tall, dark, and handsome, only richer.
I’m yawning again. Where are you? Your guy is waiting and look he got your vice. Beside him are flowers and love letters. Though others laugh out loud as they pass him, and the word BADUY plagues the corridors, he never cared, not listening at all. I know it’s only me, I find it cute. Or maybe because, I did the things he’s doing right now.
He’s yawning again. Like him, I haven’t seen you for weeks. He still have that flowers and love letters. Like him, they seem tired and weak. Or maybe he waters them every night with his salty tears, asking where, why did you go? Though only half an hour went by, I can’t look at him. It only reminds me of those days, I’m mourning like what he’s doing. It’s just that, I’m tired of crying. I’m about to go when I saw you. Finally you came out, and as expected, a new guy stood beside you. Thank God he never saw you as I look back. All I saw is another guy yawning. As I walk, a trashcan caught me; there were roses, some still in white, but some with droplets of red, blood dripping from their thorns.
I opened my closed fist; there were scars. And like him, all because of the so-called love.
You’re yawning again. You’re again bored like I am. You’re alone. Now you’re looking straight to the sky. You’re probably praying to the stars, to give you another chance. But believe me, the stars, if only they could reply, they’ll probably just yawn and say ‘mamaya na lang, bored kami eh.’
-kristian fajardo enriquez
(ginawa tuwing break, boring e…)