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You entered the picture swiftly and unknowingly.
Days passed before she knew, you’re already there–existing with alluring gestures with pleasant words to listen, and with the eyes so mesmerizing.
Before she knew, she’d been trapped in your charismatic schemes.
Before she knew, she’d already fallen to the cliff you’ve made so high, like the ocean–too deep, as it is the galaxy–it’s unending.
She’s free-falling as no one could even catch her.
Falling simultaneously as the tears in the eyes.
She woke up, she saw you, leaving the picture you’ve developed–no negatives, as if you made a crime that’s no proof, no ‘her’ and no ‘you’. Now, it’s a melancholic empty paper–crumpled and not ready for use again.

Send me the best BW Tampal!

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