We fell in love in tumultuous times
We fell in love in tumultuous times
Where fathers bore children with their own mouths and David stoned Goliath
Where whores and harlots dressed in fuchsia pink hosed down Ouano Avenue
We were slouching towards Bethlehem for we know the methane there was
Hipster gold back in the ‘70s, God’s land dirty white like mud and silk
Where monarch butterflies grew pairs of knees to kneel toward their children
We were turning heads not because we were masterstrokes, we were fear in
Bottle form, recurrent sleep paralysis eating upon human flesh
Only to sew every follicle into cloth that draped upon Your Majesty
Where Popes were choking on the Bible verses they were spitting out
And out from the stomach, Saturn’s children all came slitting out
Where hope held no dictionary definition, paired so close to hate
They had watched the latest Joan of Arc, newly nineteen, burned at the stake
The best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, hysterical and naked
And if you were saving your lips for someone better, kiss your finger’s tip
Violet ink – If you had promised everything, why do you mean nothing now?
Where junkyard jukebox junkies were found slow-dancing to Camelot
They waved with pride the Filipino flag wearing nothing but their underwear
Screaming, “Fuck the revolution! We wait for empires to burn in flames!”
Then watch the smile of a five-year-old child ember to ashes from his face
I remind myself time and time again: you’re the ash and I’m the flame
For you are just the aftermath of the travesty that I create
Goliath, you were much taller than me, with kind, dewdrop eyes
If anyone were to take your place from you, must it be I? Must it be I?
Instead, grow wings so you may pluck at every feather until they’re skeletons
And you’ll see where I hid for years on end and will continue to now
Where indecisive Solomons cut their wrists and committed suicide
You’ve always said I looked good as a martyr – But must it be I? Must it be I?
We should’ve been slouching towards Sodom and Gomorrah, look how they
Repented! Wasn’t it God who said he would forgive or has He learned to forget
Yet? If you had asked me, twenty years from now if your love made me
Change, I’d peel my skin to show you every part of me that failed to stay the
Same. Saturn and your rings, you must have mastered the art of reemergence
Where even if you lost yourself, you’ll know how to find your way back
Because if I find only one pair of feet, I know you carried me through the sand.
And if you find around your skin my fingerprints, know I walked with my
Bare hands. Where times have changed and people came and went
And mercy stood and mercy fell, and I had spent every ink on my double-edge
Felt tip pens, know that love knows no boundaries, does not know where
To hide. You and I, my Saturn and your rings, we loved in tumultuous times.
Forever I’ll be grateful you were by my side.
Where fathers bore children with their own mouths and David stoned Goliath
Where whores and harlots dressed in fuchsia pink hosed down Ouano Avenue
We were slouching towards Bethlehem for we know the methane there was
Hipster gold back in the ‘70s, God’s land dirty white like mud and silk
Where monarch butterflies grew pairs of knees to kneel toward their children
We were turning heads not because we were masterstrokes, we were fear in
Bottle form, recurrent sleep paralysis eating upon human flesh
Only to sew every follicle into cloth that draped upon Your Majesty
Where Popes were choking on the Bible verses they were spitting out
And out from the stomach, Saturn’s children all came slitting out
Where hope held no dictionary definition, paired so close to hate
They had watched the latest Joan of Arc, newly nineteen, burned at the stake
The best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, hysterical and naked
And if you were saving your lips for someone better, kiss your finger’s tip
Violet ink – If you had promised everything, why do you mean nothing now?
Where junkyard jukebox junkies were found slow-dancing to Camelot
They waved with pride the Filipino flag wearing nothing but their underwear
Screaming, “Fuck the revolution! We wait for empires to burn in flames!”
Then watch the smile of a five-year-old child ember to ashes from his face
I remind myself time and time again: you’re the ash and I’m the flame
For you are just the aftermath of the travesty that I create
Goliath, you were much taller than me, with kind, dewdrop eyes
If anyone were to take your place from you, must it be I? Must it be I?
Instead, grow wings so you may pluck at every feather until they’re skeletons
And you’ll see where I hid for years on end and will continue to now
Where indecisive Solomons cut their wrists and committed suicide
You’ve always said I looked good as a martyr – But must it be I? Must it be I?
We should’ve been slouching towards Sodom and Gomorrah, look how they
Repented! Wasn’t it God who said he would forgive or has He learned to forget
Yet? If you had asked me, twenty years from now if your love made me
Change, I’d peel my skin to show you every part of me that failed to stay the
Same. Saturn and your rings, you must have mastered the art of reemergence
Where even if you lost yourself, you’ll know how to find your way back
Because if I find only one pair of feet, I know you carried me through the sand.
And if you find around your skin my fingerprints, know I walked with my
Bare hands. Where times have changed and people came and went
And mercy stood and mercy fell, and I had spent every ink on my double-edge
Felt tip pens, know that love knows no boundaries, does not know where
To hide. You and I, my Saturn and your rings, we loved in tumultuous times.
Forever I’ll be grateful you were by my side.
About the Author
Aidan Bernales, 20, is a Cebuano writer currently studying Communication at Ateneo de Manila University who likes writing in every way, shape, and form he can. His articles have been published in Rappler, Sunstar Cebu, The Philippine Daily Inquirer, and The Guidon. His poems have appeared in Ateneo’s Heights, UP Writers’ Club’s Sinuman Magazine, and Vox Populi PH. In 2022, he was a citizen journalist for Rappler and covered the local elections in his hometown. He recently finished an internship with Tubo Cebu Art Fair and is working again with Rappler as a digital communications volunteer. He also makes music—emo lyrics wrapped in polished pop production—that can be found on all streaming platforms. He is particularly interested in writing psychological thrillers, slices of life, and romance stories. Taylor Swift is his favorite singer, if that helps.