1.
3.
Vol. 2 Issue No. 10/ July 2, 2005
Birthday Boy
2.
The sun goes on to shine… every morning… even in my mourning…
of love lost…
A man… handsome… a little taller than me… Sweat dripping from
his forehead down to his face… I watched him squeeze weights at the
gym… showing off more his perfectly sculpted physique… He caught me
looking; seated near the vanity, with smoke in one hand… He regretted
it…
I’m
numbed…
The man I loved… the man who I was willing to give up everything
for… the man I wanted more than my life… the first man I wanted to
spend my birthday with… wasn’t around… I wanted to hope he would
still come… but I felt so tired already… too tired and scared to
hope… it’s all I had been doing for the past months… too much hurt
already… and there was I seating alone, with smoke on one hand…
“I thought you are going to quit already?” Paul asked back when
I asked him for a cigarette as we walk out of the church after mass…
“Hey, it’s my birthday,” I said, hating him for reminding me
that I thought I should quit smoking as my birthday gift to myself.
“Tough, I don’t have any…” he smirked.
“You don’t have any?” I asked with so much sarcasm, believing
that he just doesn’t want to bum me one.
“I planned to quit with you,” he explained.
“What, you look after me and I look after you?” I asked still
maintaining a degree of sarcasm.
He stopped walking to face me.
“Yes,”
he answered.
I
hugged him… not caring if they were people around to see… not caring
if he be embarrassed… “Thank you,” I whispered, “a day would
eventually come when I would be so bored to read the book of poems you
gave me…”
It
made him laughed.
“Let’s
get some suman…” I suggested seeing a vendor, “I’m starving… I
hadn’t had breakfast yet…”
I
looked at my half done cigarette on my hand… flicked it…
What
is there to do when you’re alone and without anything to do…?
I
guess, absolutely nothing…
I
dropped my cigarette on the thrash can… stood up and walked off…
“*Like
rain, it pours… to my body, it soaks… of fragrant soap… lather…
foamy white… it cleanse me of you… You… I don’t know you… You
don’t know me… We were but shadows… A form in the dark… My skin
glistening with sweat… In a dark room, we locked the door… My mouth on
you… I taste you sweetness… Masking the bitterness never ending… Of
thirsty loneliness…
Our
hands entwined… You push me down… Urging me to drink your juice of
futile bliss… Least I gag… Your hand on me… You have me leaned at
your strong body… Poking me from behind… Our eyes blind… Of
darkness… Of sheer pleasure… Pure carnal pleasure…
Neither
would posses each other… A few more held breaths… The shallowness of
you not knowing… And I, wanting… Justified… We walked out of the
room… You… Me… Like rain, it pours… to our bodies, it soaks… of
fragrant soap… lather… Foamy white… it cleanse us with each
other…”
* "Like Rain, It Pours", composition by Lexan B. Orantes
