My Bitter Kiss.

Written by: Maggie Dimaano.


I don't understand why I feel not diminished at all. I'll have to finish my painting by tomorrow...

Segunda was tearfully explaining why she cannot run away with me because of her loyalty to her family... which I am sure is under the influence of that imbecile, Manuel Luz's wealth!

"I am really sorry Pepe, my Love," she muttered.

"Am I not a better man over Manuel?"

"It has been arranged! I have an obligation as a daughter! There is nothing I can do."

What is wrong with her? Have I not done enough? Have I not done enough to prove that we belong together? I am tired trying to convince her! I've worked hard enough, and this! This is how I am treated?!

I GIVE UP!!!

"I understand," I replied.

"Hold me, please, my Love," she said.

I scooped her into my arms hoping that I could still carry her away...

We were at the same place where we use to meet, behind the plaza under the old Acacia Tree. I cannot help but notice that our kisses were not as sweet as it was then...


Old memories flashback as though it was just yesterday...


It was a warm evening. Don Consuelo invited the neighborhood for dinner at his home at the Second Calle before the plaza, at the eve of the fiesta. Segunda and I wandered from the feast to enjoy a walk outside.

I guess she noticed where I was leading her. I am not sure if I felt nervous, excited, but I assured myself that this is it. This is really it.

Walking hand by hand, we stopped near the plaza. I certainly remember every detail. I remember her cheeks turning red which she smile and giggle, as my voice tingles through her neck and ears as I whispered a poem about the most beautiful virgin of Calamba. But damn Padre Lopez for accusing me of plagiarism...

I cannot forget that innocent face glowing in the moonlight as I neared her. Slowly now...

"Should I continue? Should I stop?" I thought to myself.

But there is no turning back. She waits.

Then, nearer... even nearer...

A gust of wind seemed to engulf us as I pressed my lips into hers...

Oh yes. Oh yes.

It was the sweetest taste, and the warmest sensation! The sweetest lips... so soft... so warm.

That was a great evening... our first evening.


"Are you even listening?" Segunda muttered.

I was lost in my memories that I did not notice that she was returning the poem I gave her years back. How could she?!!! I poured myself over that poem! Maybe I'll write one about this.

"Farewell, my Segunda."

"Forgive me, my Love."

I walked away cursing the night... seeing in the midst of th the dark night, the first woman I've ever loved.