The skies of Iloilo has cleared by the time Hendrix found his eyes gazing at it. The pebbles of stars and the shine of moonlight have never felt this lonely before; they have never felt this vexing before.
I was three in the morning and the city lights couldn’t be more beautiful. The gust of wind whooshing through the window stirred his hair, making its tips dance on his forehead. He tried to convince himself that it looks beautiful, that it felt nice. But he cannot fool himself; he cannot lie and make himself believe that he is fine, that all of this is fine because it’s clearly not.
Binuksan niya ang palad at tumitig sa kumikinang na bagay na nakapaloob dito. The moonlight made it more dazzling. But nothing could make it even more blinding than to be worn by the woman he loves.
