the sunlit skies call out my name once more.

lost everytime the sun turns orange.

I have packed my bags once more, but if you whisper my name to the wind, I will tell you where I have drifted off. You can tell me secret, a confession, anything. I'm still all ears.

I have kept pent-up feelings and let it out here, in forms of words and photos and everything else.
Oct 17
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Sandcastles Barefoot early, we fancy memory for carrying scratches on our backs. Kissmarks remind you how to live inside these fantasies with seaweeds how early those tear drops secrete more than the sea. After summer, you reminisced how we stood above the lighthouse. But summers are now missing, and at night, the brightest lampshades boast with radiance even the clouds dyed so robust they might explode. Your body against the invasion of tides became brave sandcastles, parched, the white sand baptized as our fortress. (poem rearranged from Rocelyn San Pedro’s Memory of summer, by Jacob Dominguez) (from my paper journal)

Sandcastles

Barefoot early, we fancy
memory
for carrying scratches on our backs.
Kissmarks remind you
how to live inside these fantasies with seaweeds
how early those tear drops
secrete more than the sea.


After summer,
you reminisced how we stood above the lighthouse.
But summers are now missing,
and at night, the brightest lampshades
boast with radiance
even the clouds dyed
so robust
they might explode.


Your body against the invasion of tides
became brave sandcastles, parched,
the white sand baptized as our fortress.


(poem rearranged from Rocelyn San Pedro’s Memory of summer, by Jacob Dominguez)


(from my paper journal)