Poetry Truths

We Wish You A Merry Galungan

My eyes open to a dark morning here in my apartment. The end of night pronounced in unequivocal fervor by the neighborhood gang of roosters, followed with only a touch less passion by my longing for coffee. It is December. That knowing strikes a romantic chord in the chorus of my nostalgia. For a moment, I snuggle close to the darkness and wrap myself in the warmth of my blankets under the ever flowing a/c.…

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