It is difficult to miss you in the summer, your voice written all over the clear night sky, the stars mapping out your single instruction: go home. Each night, I keep my eyes on the shadow of my open umbrella. I stay indoors, stay away from the windows.
Today, the news tells me you are scheduled to be lonely. I part my curtains and look up.
Later, when the roads turn slippery with your sadness, I will put on my shoes, soak myself in your tears. It is difficult not to miss you when the evening sky is speechless, when your silence travels down my cheeks, like a request.
I cannot forgive you. That day, if you had not refused, I would have given you a present. I would have carved my love in stone.
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Conchitina Cruz is an Assistant Professor of the University of the Philippines Diliman. “Alunsina Takes a Walk in the Rain” first appeared in her book of poetry collection, Dark Hours, which won the 2006 National Book Award for Poetry.