I remember
you
tattooing
dried jasmines,
feeding
the blue
catterpillars
crawling,
sleeping
in your skin.
Metamorphosis
It was your butterfly dream.
BINABASA MO ANG
Pareidolia
PoetryMy wild flower I know you have thousands of thorns, but still I see your face in every petal and I love to plant you between the blank pages of my book. I'll keep you forever even you're not fragrant anymore.
