you said,
“it’s killing us mentally”
but what was it exactly?
was it the fact that you waited
3 long days to explain yourself?
or the fact that you were scared
of all the good that I gave you?

Nariyan ka nanaman
Parang kabuteng sumusulpot sa kawalan
Pakiwari'y sa tagal ay lumisan
Ngunit heto't muli nagpaparamdam

Mainit kung aking natatandaan
Ang pagsuyo sa aking isipan
Ano't tila naglaho sa kawalan
Ang anino mo sa aking kamalayan

Tugon niya sa akin kamakailan
Na waring mauulit ko nanaman
Sapagkat tila ba ay nakagawian
Ang lumisan ng hindi nagpaparamdam

Babalik naman ako sunod taon makalawa
At pangako, ako'y hindi nag-iiba
Masanay na lamang sa aking ginagawa
Sapagkat natural na yata sakin ang mangaluluwa

writers block
sooner or later
it happens
to all of us
a story ends
without
an ending
words fall
having no where
to go
they will do
no harm
nor will they
do any good
let’s speak of it no more
ghost in machine

You Lured me in with your
beautiful words that made
me feel so whole. I felt so
lucky.

Then out of nowhere it
was just pure silence.
I can't tell you how many
times I would pace back
and forth constantly checking
my phone and felt sick.

You faded in and out of my life
like a ghost, messing with my
head. Filling it with empty
promises and false hope.

you brought me so much
pain and confusion. For
months I would feel
like I was getting picked
up only to get knocked
back down.

but not matter what every time
your name popped up
my stomach got butterflies.
you always knew how to make
me feel weak all over again.

There once was a time when wooing women with carefully crafted words was a grand purpose. Significant sentiment, conveying desperate desire and intimate intent, were the staples of the ardent young man. His only recourse was to face the object of his affection, and, with tremulous tone and generous gesture, convey the earnestness of his cause from his heart to hers.
These matters of love should perfectly pierce her heart with incisive inflection and amorous articulation. Instead, our mobile, modulated, mute-able media turns awry this enterprise of great moment and dulls its course.
I now live in an age of digital despair where ghostly static and fast-food conversation are the new calamity of so-longed life. How much easier to bare the pangs of despised love when confronted by its whips and scorns, rather that face the eternal imagination of empty airwaves.