Surprising how much I abhorred them,
they made me cringe inside.
But now I love those
little things, they make me burst with joy.

Your bony fingers used to make
my skin conjure up little bumps
Now, I think they are so beautiful
creating majestic works of art.

Your long black hair almost covered
your arched eyebrows.
Thought it was a terrible haircut,
Now, I'd rather you let them down.

your beady little eyes
moved in sync with the curling
of your thin lips,
whenever you made a sarcastic or cheesy
remark.
they used to creep me out,
now, I think that makes me like you better.

the shape of your clothes molded around
your small frame,
I always secretly thought
you looked good (whispers great)
in formal.

Those things I thought ugly
Became beautiful, sweet memories
that make up, add up
to = you.

Love - it does not necessarily mean romance, or
silly, promised-filled, tragedies like Romeo and Juliet's,
or shallow, innocent love of teenagers, who are just starting to experience
what it's like and want to know more;

Love can mean the kind you feel for people
you care about, like your parents,
your siblings, your friends...
People whom you'd love unconditionally.
And those people probably love you back
despite your flaws and endless mistakes,
they'd forgive you
and sometimes,
they try to help you get on the right path
and correct those flaws so that
You become a better person.

But what does loving a stranger mean?
Isn't that how we all came to be?
Your mother loved a stranger, and got you.
Her mother loved a stranger and loved your grandfather,
and his father loved a stranger, your great-grandmother...

This beautiful cycle of loving strangers begins our time on Earth.

How do you know that you love a stranger?
Firstly, you might think that their fingers are rather bony
and maybe they way they stand are a little odd,
and the way they walk make you cringe inside 'coz it's awkward?
And their hair is a little too long, when they say a joke,
their lips curl up at the top and their eyes flit upwards
and you feel so uncomforable looking at them.
                     Slowly, you realise though...
after talking to them a little more,
becoming better acquaintances,
and then friends,
you don't notice those 'flaws' anymore (they were never things I should criticise in the first place)
In fact, you start to love them, and like it when they do that.
It's a unique part of them that you want to keep seeing.
You feel guilty and sorry for even hating them in the first place,
because afterall, they are beautiful!

            Lastly, when you depart,
you know you really love them because
           you'll miss those tiny details even more
since you're never going to see those lovely beauties again.
*(Oh, how I regret not fully appreciating them!)

I march up to the front door
of a red-bricked house
vast skies and soft, wispy clouds drifting above... my gaze
shifts below, to the brown door. This house looks lovely
and so does the door.
I am somewhere in Wales,
it's cold but 3 knocks and a kind woman invites me in,
warmth be the one that saves my freezing skin;
hot chocolate to warm my insides and relax my mind.
My wonderful aunt leaves me to rock by the fireplace,
after some time,
I will leave again to play with my friends.

Light-headed, dreamy, fantasies...

Ready to explode in your mind, a million places we could go but never set foot on;

Ten thousand things I could do but could never have done; I wished they'd come true.

Makes me feel like with just some simple tunes and a relaxed mind,

Blanketed and snug from the cold of reality that sits surrounding me, never ceasing to go away,

but for a moment as I keep on listening,

I am happy and I learn to love things rather than hate and be bitter.

"With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;"
- *Romeo  in  Romeo  &  Juliet, Act II Scene II

I remember fondly;
all the little things, the little details.
everything is like a photograph with a little note written beside it,
documenting the moment in its beauty, treasuring, savouring
what was seen, what was said, what was felt (fluttering inside)
it's never going to occur again.

In my photographic memory, it's all too familiar
the arc of your back
the glistening of your eyes
the way you stand and poise yourself,
ever in the stance I'd knew you be in
because I've observed you so many times before.

To speak in all honesty,
I was very shy.
Thoughts dashed about my mind like
people dressed in work clothes, rushing for the train;
embarrassed flights of thought that
like a bird, fluttering here and there,
not really staying at one place, and never seeming to leave.
What thoughts? oh of course,
You.

Made up scenarios and talks that never happened, but I could envision
1) Your smile
2) The way your eyes would look into mine
3) The sound of your voice and
4) The satisfaction of finally having your attention
seeking only you, because that's what I truly want, you know. Nothing else matters if your presence wasn't here, and I'd still check from the corner of my eye.

Alas, when what anticipation has been held in me flushes out as
you appear before me,
I force away all those silly thoughts...
please, am I really in love with you?
I pretend again, that we're just good friends,
and to enjoy the moments (how little they may be) left with you.

so that when I get home, I'll be miserably happy
that the last time I saw the organic, solid, truthful, existence of you,
I had been happy.

(and no doubt, heartbroken.)

i pull my dainty finger
out of the endless sea
and upon it I see my reflection
tears of longing, my face is streaked.

the water which you rowed over,
the water which brought you far away,
the water which will decide your fate
at the water, for you, I await.

The puffs of fluffy   little
        condensed   water   droplets

lift me up, higher   ...   higher

              till I am free

of  tumultuous,       raging   thoughts
        
            where I lie down and look up at the sky

            and            what       it        has        to
                                                  offer              me.