Moving On

I still keep your old coffee mug on the shelf but I don't make your favorite barako blend myself. I walk past that little café near Sumulong Highway and just wave—like saying hi to a place I used to stay. Some days it still stings a bit when a song comes on that we used to fit. I've started taking the tryke up to Hinulugang Taktak my steps feel lighter, no more heart that's cracked. I talk about you now when friends ask me how just simple stuff—like how you loved the rain and habagat blow. We'd watch the city lights from Marcos Highway view but now I go alone, and the sky feels new. The playlist we made, still on my phone somewhere but I'm building new tunes that float in the air.