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Virgin Ann Quindo Poem
In the morning dew, she finds herself alone,
But not of physical loneliness.
She finds herself in beauty only she owns,
Although nobody sees what she sees despite of her kindness.
It’s not that she doesn’t have anyone, no.
It’s just that she’s stuck and does not know where to go.
She parades herself in a mask created by those who told her she wasn’t enough,
And abandoned herself to please the society who only gives all the bluff.
Everything seems so unfair,
And she does not have the answer
In this society that’s full of uncertainty.
Yet, she still holds her head up high, awe in beauty.
Those who understand her are those who has nothing,
They are those who wouldn’t trade her for everything.
“Stand up, the fight has begun” shouted those who cared,
“This is for our future, for us” chanting all those who casted their share.
As those who cared march by the entrance
Her body started to shake and dance
“This is our fight, let hearts ignite” they screamed,
And this is where true love begins.
At the end of the day, she knows she’s not alone,
She’s with the people who hopes for a home.
Right there and then she saw the teens,
Standing up for her, the Philippines.
Copyright © Virgin Ann Quindo | Year Posted 2022
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Virgin Ann Quindo Poem
your mind is the threshold I am supposed to rest
your embrace is the safeguard I am supposed to get
but your words are the swords that cut through my flesh
leaving wounds and scars to my heart and soul
leaving me breathless and almost lifeless down the dusty road
and now I choose me over you
I choose my life over your love
because if love is like yours,
if love feels like yours,
I won't have it
Copyright © Virgin Ann Quindo | Year Posted 2022
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Virgin Ann Quindo Poem
“I don’t believe in love
I don’t believe every single thing about love
and it’s more pleasurable for me to sit on a bench and watch people pass by each other-
sometimes accidentally brushing their hands and elbows
but when my eyes landed on you, I knew right there and then, I want you
I want to be locked in between your arms and feel your warmth
I want to wake up every morning seeing your face and feeling your breath against my skin
as I brush my fingertips against your hair while I stare at your eyes
I simply want to experience everything with you because with you, everything is perfect
everything is surreal and unimaginable than it ever was
I want to breathe a breath of relief and be constantly in love with you
because you are my home-
a home I never expected to be a person,
a home I never expected to be you”
I whispered as I watch you rest
dressed in white, handsome as ever
closed eyes, smiling but not breathing
sleeping but not waking up
laying down peacefully
in a bed that’s too small for two people
a bed where only you can lay six feet under
a bed where your body will rest
a bed where you call your coffin
Copyright © Virgin Ann Quindo | Year Posted 2022
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Virgin Ann Quindo Poem
loud laughter echoes through the pitch black sky
the usually dark street seems to lighten up
as I walk in it with you like we're going home
to a place we own
we laugh and laugh until our stomachs hurt
echoing through the neighborhood
late at night until it dissipates with our breath
in my bedroom, we close the door
snuggling together like an old married couple
talking about the silliest moments of our life
and all random things there is until it bores
I saw it, at the top of your head
a bright orange hairpin
clinging onto your hair not wanting to fall
you left it on my table under the yellow lighted lamp
you washed your hair and let me dry it
combing it until you feel sleepy
leaving the hairpin on my table illuminated
by the dim light making it stand out best
out of all the things that sits on the table
days later you left to go home
it was there on my table
an orange hairpin
barely noticeable despite it's bright color
that hairpin reminded me of you
your laugh and your breath
your hair and your scent
of all the things we do and
on how we talk about tomorrow
as if the world is ending that night
how we laugh while we eat
how I make silly moves while we walk
that hairpin is you
a reminder that I once loved a person
a gentle remnant of your presence
I call it you
you who knew me so well
you who knows my everything.
you.
and I cry over it.
I cry over you.
I cry, over a hairpin
Copyright © Virgin Ann Quindo | Year Posted 2026
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