There was just your story and my story.



I’m sorry for saying I love you in songs that you will never hear. When you stared at me, I wanted to take the stars from your eyes so that you could grasp the raw honesty of who I really am.


Lost, not found

that bouquet of roses in the garbage

have you seen the girl crying at the corner of her bed

Is she sleeping with her ex

has she gotten that text

she had been waiting for

the last two weeks

It’s past ten

Is she sleepy

Is she still waiting

what does she want

a call

a text

an apology

I’ll give it to her

have you seen her


in love


I’ve been looking


to find her

hug her

whisper empty promises

in the nights

her soft caress

innocent and pure

her voice

my cold heart

craves for the warmth

of her flawless skin

I’ll give her all of my cold heart

and when I do

I need her to believe

to believe in me once again

She is somewhere

hiding in the corner




 I want her mine

and I want more than her

She is probably wondering who I  really am

I’m the guy she broke herself for

she probably forgot me

she had probably

already moved on

or maybe

maybe she doesn’t even

know me

maybe she is yet to meet me

maybe I left her without knowing

what I had to lose

maybe she’s waiting for me

I still want more of her

I’m coming back for her

She is hollow inside

she is wondering who emptied her heart

who took it with him

trapped it in a bottle with the others

have you seen her

If you see her

please tell her

she needs a little light

tell her it was me

-Mr. wrong


Unbosomings during my early puberty stage

I lock the door and I lock myself from the rest of the world. Or at least things used to be that way.

It’s a well plotted fib for immature teenagers like me. Whenever I had a bad day or whenever I was in a bad mood, I used to lock myself in my bedroom and never come out, thinking, that way, I could escape from the harsh conditions of the real world.
I would wish to just stay in there forever, to never ever have to come out.
What I then do the whole time I’m in my bedroom is sleep. Yes. It’s actually a very good way of escaping reality. And when I wake up, I would force myself to sleep again.

Dreams could be nightmares, but most of the time they are better than reality.
And you know what, people grow up. One day, I actually have grown enough to know that sleeping it out won’t change things.
Things are gonna be the same when I wake up, and no matter how much I push myslef back to sleep, it will still be the same when I wake up again.
And I will eventually have to come out of my room because I’m human and I get hungry too, and worse, I would have to make up for all the time I spent sleeping.
It took a lot of bad days and sleep for me to build up enough courage to not lock myself in my room the next time.

Life is like a huge slap in the face. You are forced to let go of your childhood pipe dreams more than one at a time.
Dear me,
You’re not gonna be an astronaut when you grow up.

to the time I found out Santa Claus was long dead.

I swear, life is a real heart breaker.
Fairytales are fairytales, fantasies are fantasies, life is not a movie.
The reality of the whole thing dawned on me one day, and I would go to sleep wishing it would be different when I wake up.

Everyone has to grow up at some point in their lives.
With the overpopulation today, imagine how all the people managed to rise above the wretched days puberty brings.
PS: Dear Kid, don’t let the bullies bite.