Slipping

Riva Ingente, Philippines

It's as if these days, these nights
This light
Did not belong here
In this time
In these hours
They belonged to salt-crusted hair
To sunburned skin
To cicadas screaming in shadowed trees
Mile walks in the dark to the nearest store
And disco lights and music on the road
These days, these nights, this light
Feel lost
Among our shining, blinding screens
Drowned in all the coffee
we drank until the mugs ran out
Time is slipping
Or perhaps it was those feelings that
Slipped past time
From those days, those nights, that light
Where our fingertips and toes pruned
From soaking in the sea
Where my fingertips callused from
ukulele strings
And it was I that brought them here
To now
Those days, those nights, that light
Bougainvilleas blooming, blooming, blooming
That sinking bend in the road
where drunks fell and died
That tide that swallowed that town
Crystal blue, my curtains crystal blue
My chest is torn and rending
The skies I see don't belong
In this time
In this life
In this moment
Where is that jar where they escaped from?
I want to slip inside

Riva is an art student in the Philippines. Writing poetry is one of the things she enjoys and has kept secret until now. She has a slight obsession with sunlight, coffee, and stories.