i guess i never loved you. i just
needed you. you read my journal
it was written that i
“i hate you”. “no one cares
if you were gone”. you
broke. i broke you
down, to watch you hurting and
tears rolling down. i saw that
you cared. you loved me.
sorry, i said so many times
while you just covered your ears.
i realized, i wielded that
knife to shatter you.
maybe that was why when you
snuck the $6.90 honey-baked
chicken from Cold Storage into
your bag, you said “i’ll look
after us”. leading us illegally
into USS, you said “anything
is possible
just stay with me”. and i did.
slowly, you slipped the reigns
i mishandled from my grip.
there it was yours now to hold,
the beach, carpark, stairwells saying
“the future’s an unpredictable
nature, no matter how hard you try”,
i suppose you knew how
things would have turned out.
easy for you to say, you predicted it
for us. that was how we broke
one
another to pieces.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
to forget all about him,
what does it take to extract
someone from the mind?
painfully she waits,
she realizes that for the past 12 hours,
not a single thought of him crossed her mind.
but now she waits,
and he is back on her mind again,
it feels like it is back to square one.
so she waits,
because 12 hours without him,
meant the tomorrow would be 13 hours without him.
when she waits,
eventually 24 hours without him,
leads to many more hours and days without him.
n.y.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 8:46 AM UTC
six a.m. her eyes popped wide open,
stretching her body, she closed her eyes for a a few minutes to
adjust her mind and prepare herself for another dreaded Wednesday working day:
"oh gosh, mid-week" she grumbled.
six thirty a.m. her kitchen was filled
with the smell of sweet honeyed french toast (with a slight smell of overcooked eggs).
she packs them nicely into her paper bag:
"hope it won't sog up fast" she thought.
six fifty-six a.m. her bus arrives promptly,
the commuters seemed oblivious to her
they start nudging and pushing their way up the bus:
"i'm in black and so i'm invisible?" she questioned.
seven o'one a.m. her seat has finally warmed up,
her hair was still damp from her morning shower,
and she looks to the front blankly:
"what's new" she mumbled.
n.y.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
you keep asking for more,
from your kids,
from your spouse,
from them,
do you feel better?
you compare,
with the best,
with the average,
with the worst,
do you feel better?
you strive to survive,
in this conformed world.
so...
are you happy?
n.y.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
i cannot write,
yet i can't not write.
i have no talent,
yet they say my talent is writing.
my thoughts are messy,
yet i write to straighten the mess.
this poem *****
i am not a poet.
n.y.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC