People say I am
deep. With emotions
astray, words with power,
in chaos. I am
deep for a lot has been taken.
My heart is an open pit --
it grows deeper
the more I give, the more you
take from it. You can
only fill me. With you
I'll be complete.

Having you around
is better than making you
a stranger once more.

You said I was
enough. Saying I was
meant you shouldn't have left.
How many times do our
cats call you every night?
They look for a person
on your bedside. I lie
to them saying you would
come back. One day,
they were missing you,
crying; it is also the sound of my heart
falling apart.
I felt sick. Picking up pieces
of myself, as futile as making a castle
in the sand, to be washed away by the waves.

And so I left home to
find solace in another's embrace.
Countless women I've met, used
to the unfamiliar cielings and
epiphany I have when morning came,
that her embrace is not yours,
your lips aren't the one
I kissed. The devil
must be so happy but
inside me I am empty.

Every passing day and night,
amidst all imperfect smiles, and
hollow moans and laughter,
I touch my chest
to look for
anyone in it. I miss
the cry of our cats.

has been reduced to a mere
facebook status, a tweet, or
a battle of  likes and followers
crumbling, succumbing to
the pressure of creating

something

Theodor and Max would be sad
mad about how i treat my self and
my Art, as industry and enterprise
would use me as a commodity and

the object of Art is objectified

I could not ignore
the empty space in our bed;
the dawn is breaking.

Every so often
I would just stare at our cat
just to check if she's breathing'
because I am afraid
it will suddenly stop.

For almost four years
never did I cease to believe in you
and our hope and dreams because
I trusted you
I loved you
You love me but
you suddenly stopped.

And so I observe
the rising and falling
of our cat's puny body
while she sleeps
I never wanted to leave things to fate
again.

Every night I lie awake and stare at
the making and becoming
of us in these old videos
while you probably sleep.
This melancholy and emptiness is something
I leave to fate.

Dearest Prospero,
I have seen how
the war have destroyed. Our marriage
was enough to keep me sane and
faithful. I am
now a mother from
a demon and a widow.
Prospero,
up the heavens
you must go. Find my son
and my soul out in the crevice of hell
before the gates shut close.
Prospero,
as I cradle him now in
my bloodied hands. Interrupted his spur to life.
And no longer
he cries. There little one… there.