Why

do you do this to me?
Why spare me this feeling beyond ordinary?
Why spare me some time?
Why spare me much dime?
Why do you make me look forward to each waking day 
with your knocks on this imaginary wall between December and May?
Why am I giving in when I shouldn't be?
And why do we keep in touch when the deal had to flee?
If this is exploratory, out of the acceptable zone, 
then I fear for this comfort (or your discomfort to the bone). 
This side of the wall I'm on is that of wilderness. 
But you make me smile, no less. 

Busy ako. Wag ka nga. 
Ako'y napapatula, ako'y napatulala.