Maybe I don’t need you.
Maybe I don’t need your voice in the morning
as you whisper unto my ears
words as sweet as strawberries
freshly picked from Baguio.
Maybe I don’t need your presence.
because you remind me of the color white
– a color I seldom use,
save for when I paint the panorama
of where we met and where we lingered,
where white is needed for highlight and contrast,
to balance the uneven,
to give nebulous glow
to the stars as I juxtapose them
to the Indigo, and the abyss,
and the void of the Universe’s umbra.
Maybe we weren’t meant for each other.
Like two straight lines meeting,
meeting at a certain point
in the fabric of time and space,
our paths maybe were destined
to cross once and then diverge
But forever doesn’t exist and we are more than quantifiable figures. Lines are two dimensional, we, I believe, are three.
Someday, answers would be definite,
and maybe will just remain a word.
But for now,
I’ll rely on maybe’s
would hurt more.