I am a dead poet. Words barely came into my mind; they were too shallow. But for you, I could compose a masterpiece with your name in it.
𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅, 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒔. 𝑻𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅.
What's the point being beautiful from outside if you rotten to hell from inside .
those days were warm, hot, and long,
but you rushed to me like a sweet song.
your warmth is what i always wanted all along,
then i knew to you is where i want to belong.
autumn came and leaves started to fall,
the wind also started to blow cool breeze;
but your tender care is what i always recall,
the way you make my mind feel at ease.
winter then came and it falls snow,
the weather has become a lot colder too;
still together, we continue to grow,
all the things we've been through, i won't undo.
then comes springtime,
the cherry blossoms started to bloom,
yet you still shine and your charm sublime;
your presence will never make me go gloom.
this summer marks one year of our togetherness,
i'm blessed with all we've been through in the past year.
my heart has deeply fallen in love with your tenderness,
and with you i'm willing to journey, without any fear.
Tayo'y muling inabot ng bukang-liwayway,
lumbay at pighati sa hangin natangay.
Ikaw ang tanging balakid ng kalungkutan,
kaharutan ng iba'y huwag pamarisan.
Sa musika ng buhay ay iindak,
sa langit dadalhin habang ika'y kahamagan.
Lahat ng walang kasiguraduhan, sayo magiging tiyak,
ikaw ang nag-iisang liwanag sa dagim na kalangitan.
it was a hell of a ride
we've been thru ups and downs
and needed some break
but I think we lost it
I've attempted to hide the fact that I'm suffering from a broken heart.
During these periods of creating work, though, I would never disguise that.
With this poetry, I promised myself that I would always be the true me.
And on nights like these, I'm particularly aware of the pain.
I'm taking a step ahead in my healing, yet I'm feeling stifled.
I'm constantly worried that I'll be attacked.
Malicious intent no longer surprises me.
The honorable percent, on the other hand, has shocked me.
It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to place my trust in others.
It's hard to trust folks when they're the ones who broke my heart.
I'm looking for deep, meaningful friendships.
But I can't manage to discover people who are worthy of my expressions or who are eager to participate in them.
I'm constantly replaying these exchanges in my thoughts.
When I say things out loud, I get the impression that no one is listening.
I suppose I'm sick of being my own friend.
I'd like to give this loneliness a name.