MRT

Night falls over Makati,
and we stood there watching
the city lights go up,
from a crowded train.

We touched our skin,
and we smiled to each other
Not a word bridged us over,
But we knew, somehow,
that there is something coming out of us,
something that had been in a slumber
but is now frolicking in the wild blue yonder,
filling us with a promise,
we knew can never be fulfilled.

We chose not to say a word.
For we are two mortals, trapped,
yet still, by the rhythm of the rail we tapped,
a rhythm of our own.
We made music out of skin,
And we lived a life out
of watching city lights go up
from a crowded train.