Prometheus Poems

I used to think he took my breath away. I lied—I was choking on his bullshit. “I never loved you, Valentina,” he said evenly. “And if you weren’t so dense, you’d have realized that three years ago.” His words cut through me like a razor blade. Not only had I been used—I had been discarded, tossed aside like a rag doll. Three months later, I’m the hotcake nobody can resist—desired not by one billionaire, but two, both ready to set the world on fire for me.

Coming from a prominent family of vampires, and as Prometheus’ only daughter, Luna Valentin is indeed living the princess's life. Since childhood, she was showered of everything beautiful and nothing but the best. However, her fate is already decided the moment she was born; she is bound to marry the Octavian’s one and only scion, Giovanni. Dominant, cold, and mysterious, everything opposite of the childish, naive, and innocent Luna. They are the ones fated to continue the legacy of the Valentin-Octavian bloodline. But everything seems to not go their way the moment Luna met this mystifying werewolf, Nero—with deep blue eyes, broad and irresistible physique, dominating aura— with its proposal to be its mate and lover. Secrets after secrets. Deaths after deaths. Vampires, Werewolves. Family feuds and betrayal. Let’s join Luna in her journey of unveiling every shadow of lies that covered her true identity, together with Giovanni and Nero, as they unravel the wonders of the Aerith Kingdom.

Tunnels deconstructs the individual’s Romantic fascination with ‘love’ or the grammaticality of beauty. Ideally, the ‘tunnels’ in the collection are subterranean love poems from the suburban imaginary. These seemingly syntactic tunnels travel through one’s literary imagination or heterotopic dreamscapes, and while αγάπη (Greek for ‘love’) inspires these rhizomic tunnels to navigate the abysmal ‘meta-spectacle’ of gesture, language or moment of poemness, the mind like the many-colored jeepneys of Manila, where driving past roast goose restaurants in Shek Kip Mei or spotting stilt houses in Kampong Kleang, attempt to explore the transgeneric textualities of the everyday, alongside the unstructurality of time and space, the littoral and the liminal.

While cleaning Desmond Maynard's house, I accidentally knocked over his mother's keepsake. He once told me it was his most precious possession. But when I picked it up, hundreds of love letters spilled out. There were beautiful poems, passionate lyrics, and heartfelt confessions. He had written one letter a week without stopping. On the back of each one wrote a line: To My Love, Bunny. The nickname rang a bell. It was his junior in college. Things started to make sense. I slaved away for 13 years, running his household and caring for his family, but Desmond never even said he liked me. That was because he already had someone he liked. I sorted the letters by date, put them back, and grabbed my phone to make a call. "Mom, I'm in for the marriage proposal."

Marcus Webb didn't believe in ghosts. It was not until he woke up in Prometheus House with no memory of how he got there and met the devastatingly beautiful man who claims to be his roommate. Silas Ashford is perfect. Too perfect. He doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, and casts no reflection in mirrors. When Marcus discovers a photograph from 1924 showing Silas standing beside a man who looks exactly like him, the truth becomes impossible to deny. Silas is a ghost, bound to the facility for a hundred years, waiting for someone he can't remember. Marcus is a tech billionaire who died six months ago in a car accident, his body in a coma, his soul trapped in the between. They were lovers in a past life. Michael and Silas, 1924. They died in a fire trying to escape an abusive sanatorium. Michael survived long enough to reincarnate. Silas has been waiting ever since. Now, the facility's sinister director, a reaper who feeds on trapped souls will do anything to keep them apart. The building is collapsing, and time is running out. Marcus must choose: wake up and live, forgetting Silas forever, or stay and risk losing everything. To free Silas, Marcus will have to destroy the anchors binding him to this world, confront the creature born from their shared tragedy, and burn Prometheus House to the ground a second time. Some love stories survive death. He's not real, But he's mine, and I'll set the world on fire to keep him.

The happiest day of any woman is her wedding day, right? But that is not the case with Pamela Grayson. She sobbed before, during and after the wedding. She cannot comprehend why her parents would force her into a marriage with a man who is in a coma without the slightest provability of coming out of it? But the sympathetic part of Pamela's predicament is that the man she was married to was more ruthless towards her when he regained consciousness. "Sign the papers and get the fuck out of my house" he bellowed, throwing the divorce papers into her face. But When she Returned, she's not the naive, innocent Pamela Grayson that Louis Hayden threw out, she's now the princess and CEO of the largest conglomerate in her country...