'Do you really love them, or just the idea of them?'
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VP denies Gracioso’s cash-delivery allegations
Early-stage cancer can be more easily treated than in the later stages. That is why doctors recommend regular cancer…
‘As far as I recall and based on the record, there is no showing.’
President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. is flying to Singapore for a five-day working visit upon the invitation of Singaporean…
Green canopies and orange sunlight,
A beacon for Eros' arrows of might,
And within the eye of gentle morn,
A spark of perfection, cradled and born.
Snapshot and stilled, an ouvre d'amour.
Love immaculate, golden eyes, and more,
Until the artist steps on a feathery crack,
And shrine of spurred moment fades to black.
Hair no longer halo, tousled and tangled;
Laughter, not melody, unflattering angles.
Photograph lands in what-might-have-been.
Lover no longer, de-fatuation replaced within.
A perfect painting, but with a touch, it will mar.
This is the curse of the star—only loved from afar.
