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the tiny trinkets hanging on your door screaming for your attention will always be left unnoticed. you always leave as suddenly as you come.

fingers dirtied by charcoal, a maddening version of reality from its tips; you are the Dark Horse rampaging the undulating terrain of my mind. you draw the most intricate faces with the most intricately soulful eyes, pulling out strings of unknown emotions from your own forgotten past. but that was how you did your drawings, and it was always a wonder why, while trapped in your own little world in simple sneakers, dirty shirt and tattered denims, you always drew with a smile.

did you know that i tore my pants that night when we climbed over your fence and into your mom's bougainvillea, semi-chased by your ugly dog who did not liked the idea of being stepped on while he was sleeping at 3 in the morning? i never told you, but one spike got naughty and snagged my pants. those were my favorite pair. but the heck, your dog can eat it, even my sneakers, anytime.

and speaking of your dog, remember the time when you turned white because your dog just buried its nasty fangs on my leg? my now 25-centavo-sized scar is still as clear as the memory of your face when you saw my leg bleeding. you were mumbling about hospitals and rabies while i was just sitting there, smarting with pain.

and blurred pain was all i can remember of those days tagged under 'uncertainty' when we used to greet each other good mornings every single day. i did not know what it was for, or why we were doing it, or even what it meant. i had a few thoughts i kept to myself, but keeping them to myself did not allow them some space to roam so they just stayed there, round and round in my head.

because it's quite strange how in different points in time you can have so many faces, so many names. but always, just a 'friend'.


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