This girl here is Adrianne. She’s a beautiful, funny, witty, charming, and intelligent girl, a talented artist and a licensed chemical engineer. And she’s the love of my life.
We’ve been together for five months now (five months and one day to be exact), and I still can’t comprehend the twist of fate that led me to her. Believe me, before we met, we had no mutual friends, we’ve studied in different schools, and we lived literally miles away from each other. Prior to our first conversation, I’ve known nothing about her and she knew nothing about me. But look at us now. I know we love each other to wedding levels, if not more.
I wrote “Five” to mark the five months of our togetherness. I know I’m weak when it comes to relationships (I know this because the longest I’ve been in before A is two months, yeah, pity), but she always manages to steer me in the right direction. My anger and lack of patience always gets the best of me, and it blurs my judgments, affecting my decisions, leaving me only with regret when the day is done. Not everyone has the patience with me and my issues, but she, Adrianne, have managed to always knock back some sense into this tiny head of mine. She always forgives.
I really love her, I know that. And I want to change. I don’t want it to come to the point when I would abuse her patience, kindness, and forgiveness. She’s been so good to me. That’s why I trust her. I’ll never let her go, for I know she’s the only one who can guide me, and make me a better person. And, because I know she’s the only one I’ll ever love this way, and the only one I would want to spend my life with.
It’s a nice enough Wednesday morning to write a poem. There was a time when I would wake up every morning and write a poem about it. I love morning poems. The feeling of just waking up early, refreshed, with a cup of coffee (and cigarette) in hand, that atmosphere when everything is almost silent because everyone is still asleep, that chill in the air; it makes me in the mood for writing lines.
There’s always something about them that inspires me. I think there are two kinds of poems which can be created out of the concept of mornings. First is the poem full of hope: when the moment of waking up represents a new day, a new challenge, a new chance. Where the morning sun brings new hope. Another one is the poem that would see mornings as depressing: where the moment of waking up to reality would be perceived as the end of dreaming. The end of wishes. “Yet to Bloom” is an example of the latter. I didn’t wake up depressed… I just felt like writing about the chill in the air, and that was how it turned out.
But see, the “ending of dreams” type of poem cannot be all bad. There’s always a side to it that says, “Yeah, dreams end, but the point is, if you really want the dream, you carry it out in reality.” It shouldn’t take a poet’s verse to understand that we cannot live in dreams (and subsequently, delusions) forever. There’s only one place where everything would actually matter, where everyone and not only you would feel the hope and whatever joy it is your dreams may bring, and that would be in reality.
This is your chance. Wake up and greet the morning with gladness!
I haven’t written poems in a while… so I guess I’ll try to practice more. I need some new material for this notebook that Adrianne personally made for me. I have to fill the pages with poetry before her birthday comes!
Wish me luck.
Oh, and yes, I don’t have a shirt on.
This is the personal blog of the author behind “Coffee Cups and Fragile Strings,” a blog that contains poems I’ve written in my spare time.
I’m not really that good at blogging, so the posts here will likely contain random things about me (and the things I like) that doesn’t have really anything to do with poetry and/or creative writing.
As of the time of writing, I’m 22 years old, a Filipino, and I currrently enjoy listening to Electronica, Progressive, and Experimental Rock. I like 30 Seconds to Mars, Up Dharma Down, Imogen Heap, Brian Eno, and Coheed and Cambria.
Uh… Let’s see where this leads.