Before the second episode of the Philippines Graphic Literary Workshop (PGLW) concluded on March 21, we knew that we had one more thing that we can offer our bright young fellows: a starting platform for their creative endeavors. Here, we present one of their final outputs from the workshop. We also asked them to provide an artwork that they think best represents their stories. Read on.
He once told me
that loving something dangerous
doesn’t always look like fear—
sometimes
it looks like staying.
I didn’t understand then.
Because you—
you are a tiger.
Not just in the way people say it,
not just in teeth
and warning,
but in the quiet pacing
of something
that could ruin me.
I have seen it—
the sudden shift,
the almost-violence
hidden
in your silences.
And still,
there are moments
when you lean
into the space beside me,
and I swear
you forget your own sharpness—
like a kitten,
something that presses into a hand
as if it has never known fear.
My hands remember you—
stained
with that artificial heat,
like flaming hot Cheetos dust
that clings long after the hunger fades.
The kind of burn
you mistake for something real.
So I keep reaching.
Even when the marks stay.
Even when the bruises bloom
in places I don’t show,
soft as the apologies
I never learned to say.
He told me
this is where I should stop—
that tenderness should not come
wrapped in risk.
But I have never been good
at stopping.
However, I have only these words—
and they fail me,
because something capable of harm
should not feel like home—
but it does.
I am not blind to the claws.
Only willing
to close my eyes.
So I stay.
Not because I am unafraid,
but because I have seen you soften—
and for a moment,
brief and dangerous and unbearably gentle,
I forget
that I am still,
beneath the sheets
where warmth hides everything—
even teeth
petting a tiger.
Written by Sebastian Miguel Salvador.
