Tag Archives: letter

Terminal Epistle

The days are long.
The torment of waiting…

is longer.

The veracity of the later
stands without question.

My certainty is absolute
for I trust in your fertile mind.
Absolute in the confidence
that you still possess the ability
to comprehend my nature.

Deny me, if you will,
but know that I dare to disagree.

I believe
that the nature of events
which haunt my mind
and transcend onto these pages
are a fact,
long and well,
known in your heart.

Do you dare to disagree?
Then, why do I exhaust such energy?
Do not shrug your shoulders
in aghastment!
You know well the reasons for
my insistence!

The sound of the siren song
is yet blaring in my head.

My only hope to reach you
rests on these mailings.
Needless to say,
all other attempts to do so
ebbed without results.

Lord knows I am weak
in your torturing distance.
I pray He grants me the brawn
to withstand this silence.
I pray He grants you poise
and peace in these times.

My reason shakes
in violent tremors of solitude.

Sweet siren song
still deafening my senses.

Spare me the suspense
and strike me.
Strike me dead,
as I know you will,

I recognize the splendor you find
in afflicting such torture.

Tell me,
what stalls you now?

Just take me,
as you’ve tasted
in a thousand vivid dreams:
Thrust your claw into my chest;
wrap your fingers ’round my heart.
Rupture this…

tormenting wait.

Dear Cody


I well understand your position and I respect your decision. I’m truly sorry that we can’t come to a less heart-breaking conclusion to this transition in our lives. I thank you for the time we have shared together and want you to know that I deeply appreciate your fortitude in bearing with me in the beginning and especially now as we reach the inevitable conclusion.

I understand your need out of this relationship, as it would be harder on us both to manage a long distance romance. But of course, I’m hoping, it doesn’t mean that we would sever our friendship because of it. I honestly believe that we have shared something beyond a relationship of convenience, beyond sexual, beyond companionship…more truly an honest friendship. And that is something I have lacked in my life for the past ten years and would miss dearly without you.

I too am saddened and angry with myself, for my selfishness, for my willingness to part, for my readiness to move on with my life…but not nearly as sad or upset that I must go it alone. Here I am, a thirty-something man still searching for his place in life, uncertain of what’s to come, uncertain of what’s to become…of the rest of my life. Too often I have allowed life to take it’s course and just see where the wind takes me, and for what? To find your “Dear John” words neatly stuffed between my garments in a travel bag. Well, I don’t blame you, given my past experience I too would have probably done that same thing, were I in your shoes.

I thank you for your patience throughout our time together, know that I have done my best (or the best I could, given the circumstances) in every aspect of our relationship. You are a wonderful person and a great part of my life…thank you for letting me in. Thank you for allowing me to love you, even if just for this brief moment in our lives.

I must confess, it pains me to let you go, but if this is what you need, then my hands are tied and perhaps someday I will see more clearly the lesson to be learned. And one last thing I pray you heed…in your heart, in your mind…”Never Let Me Go”. That’s not to say that your personal life must cease to be , but rather a reminder that…in my heart, in my mind…you will always be with me.

Wishing you the best, most sincerely,
Oscar A. Plascencia

Soul Mates

Ours was supposed to be a tale with a happy ending:
happily-ever-after and all that bullshit.

I know that now, five years later, that it was all bullshit.
But I actually wanted it to go that way.
I actually believed that there was no other way.

Destined to be.
Written in the stars.
Soul mates.

I guess I fell in love with the idea of being in-love.
Perhaps I even fell in love with you.
I wanted it so bad;
I did everything I could to make you believe it too,
to make you fall in love with me.
And you almost did.
Or at least for a few years I thought you did.
I thought I did.

I proudly wore my heart on my sleeve.
I paraded about with cupid’s arrow
pierced into the space between my eyes.
I wrote the words that love-stuck lovers write.
I sang the songs that celebrate love’s eternal euphoria.
Together we forged a union,
a companionship,
a partnership
that we blindly mistook and labeled Love.

Oh cruel world,
you have taught me to love unconditionally,
to bleed my soul for the one I love.
But you never warned
that a soul can only bleed so much before it withers.
Before it fades.

I used to think that being with someone made me happy.
I thought that toughing it out, through the bad times,
was confirmation of our love,
but how could I think anything else?
I was blinding myself from the truth.

Stepping in too close to see the big picture.
Analyzing every minute detail,
when I should have been stepping back,
recounting my motives,
questioning my choice of words,
and evaluating my happiness.

A despondent man looks back at me
when I glance into the mirror.
Today I take that step backwards.
Today I examine my motives,
question my utterance, and assess my happiness.
Today I take a step back and view the big picture.
I know I want more than I need:
your attention, your companionship, and your love.
Is this really too much to ask for?

All of our lives we are fed the myth of Soul Mates:
one other person out there, estranged,
looking for you while you are looking for them.
A perfect half to make you whole;
separated at the point of creation
and cast to the wind,
leaving the possibility of ever finding each other…
all to Fate.

But only in the movies do they ever find each other.
In real life we are ships crossing in the night,
unaware that the other is even there:
for in this sea of people and prospective soul mates
we are too distracted by the beautiful faces
and tempting bodies that surround us.

We are fed the stories
of prince-charming and happiness-ever-after,
all the while realizing
that there will be many toads to kiss
before that special-one magically transforms
into your prince right before your eyes.

So we trick ourselves, most unknowingly
and call that True Love!
We fool ourselves into believing that we are in-love,
that we have found that someone special,
our prince charming.
But all we ever really are is in love with Love.
In love with the idea of being in-love.

For who are we in this world if we have no one to love
and who loves us in return?
At least that is what we are conditioned to believe,
that we are alone
if we do not have that special someone
to live out our dying days with,
that special someone to witness our lives,
to share and validate our existence.

Thank you for helping me see through all that bullshit.

Frozen Inside

I shouldn’t be phased by this numbness,
by this lack of emotion.
Most people would be distraught or in full rage
to discover that their lover of five years has moved on.
Moved out.
But it’s not like I hadn’t seen it coming.
You fought a valiant fight for the past year or so.
But in the end, I guess I was the victor.
Well not me, but my heart.
You did your best to break in and your worst to stay there.
But the self preservation switch was tripped
far too long ago for you to even have a chance.
I guess my mistake was in letting you hold it:
allowing you to take my heart in your hands,
letting you believe that perchance
you could nurse it back to a state of semi-repair.
And I know that truly wasn’t fair to you.
To let you fall in love
with a broken man guarding his healing heart.
Love, romance and hopes of happiness-ever-after
were things that I had sworn off
a year before we even met.
My heart had taken all the beating it could take.
It lay small, bruised and bleeding
through the seams of stitches I had sewn
in attempts to save and foster it
to a dim and irregular, but audible beat.
All previous attempts at Love and Romance
robbed a piece of my heart,
slowly eroding it
and leaving me
with the tiniest battered fragment.
I’m setting you free
because you were never mine
to make you stay.
I’m letting you go
without a fight
because I know it’s what you need.
Watching you walk away, forever.
And I’m frozen in place.
I’m frozen inside.
I know I should feel something, anything.
But I don’t.
I don’t feel sad or angry.
I wish I felt something….

Broken Heart

Gay men do not come from Venus and they do not come from the overly heckled Uranus. Plain and simply, gay men like all men and women are the product of both Mars and Venus merging. They are the outcome of having been raised by Mars and Venus. Having no other choice but to emulate our heterosexual parents, the gay man is trapped in an everlasting catch-22. I am not even touching the surface of sexual orientation here, merely the quandary at hand: a broken heart.

Depending on the severity and frequency of said shattered heart, the natural human reaction to loss is pain. A tightening sensation in the chest, traveling upward causing that familiar knot in the throat, stalling just so as to keep you from swallowing till the tears fill your eyes…yeah you know the rest. In this case, multiple emotions (pain and anger) have clashed to victor over all reactions. Imagine slamming a hammer on your thumb out of sheer carelessness… The pain is real, immediate. But anger takes over and you fling the hammer across the room. Not a tear is shed for you have no one else to blame. You suffer your pain under muffled cries and curses. Ask all you want, all the live long day; the hammer has no answers, it simply performed the task you led it towards.

We say what we say, because it is all that we know. It is all that we have been conditioned to say. We heard our parents say it, we sing along to it, we glut on the notion of Love and Soul Mates through every medium available. It is the right thing to say…at the moment that we say it. The question here is: why do we take it all back? Why do we fall out of love? And worse yet: when will we learn to break up? This modern day of electronics is so contradicting. They are supposed to bring us closer together, keep us in touch and accessible despite the distances…but all they’ve done is bore a loop hole for us to weasel out of true human connection. A Dear John text message is the modern day copout for all of us untrained in the art of saying goodbye. But worst of all is the absence of a spoken farewell. The lover lacking the courtesy and fortitude to speak the phrase ‘it’s over’, ‘we’re over’ or just ‘farewell’ is an incomplete soul at best. And the lover spurned in turn is left incomplete without that spoken adieu.

The heart is a very resilient chamber for it will keep all of our treasured memories despite the beating we put it through. It may fill with Sorrow at times and overflow, but it is Love that will keep it together, mend its cracks, nurse it’s wounds and sew it’s seams time and time again. No you will never get used to this, only jaded. We give and we give. A piece of our heart is lost every time we loose someone we love, until we find ourselves unable to compromise, unable to let go of that last piece which is meant for yourself. So make sure that that piece is the largest. Greedy notion, I know, but the only means of survival advice I can pass on: save a piece of that broken heart for yourself. Or as it has been sung time and time again: “Be good to yourself because there is nobody else with the power to make you happy“. And, “Poor is the man whose pleasure depends on the permission of another“.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right, assuming there is a right. Their insecurities, my insecurities. Something always seems to wedge it’s way between us. They end it . I end it. We both end it. And then I’m back to square one. How many squares before I get there? Do I even care to go there again? Have I ever truly been there? I’ve told myself I’d never venture again, still somehow here I am bleeding and seething once more. I blame no one. Not even myself. And certainly not them. But I know this: I want to bleed no more. And I don’t want them to bleed on my account.

Unknowingly we beat that which we love the most into submission. Beat it to our will. Every now and then they rebel in hopes of becoming their own person. But somehow, subconsciously we persist. We insist on dominating at some level. A war is waged like father and son in a battle of rites. A war that is never easily won. A battle that is sure to leave enduring scars. And will it always be this way? Who can say? All we have is the uncertain future. All we have is that small, but bright gem of Hope bestowed upon us by Pandora.

Hope. The one bright gem amongst all the dark sins strewn across this world. Or is it truly the darkest of them all? It seems I’ve only known Hope to be an evil, sadistic, twisted cunt. So I hold on to Faith, blind as it might be from time to time. Blind Faith to lead me through this maze of life, love and happiness.