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Feb 16 · 251
Sunlight crept in through the
slits in your blinds,
two bodies intertwined
at 11:30am accompanied by
two glasses of red wine
(quarter full) on your bedside
table, above which your picture
perfectly hangs and aligns with
the painting you finished last night.
Last night. Sigh
I was yours and you mine,
traced my finger along your hairline
while your head rested between my thighs.

These moments only last forever in my mind.
© LAICEY Poems February 2021
Feb 15 · 212
drawn to your emerald greens,
like you are drawn to the sea,
i fell into you blissfully.

your soft-spoken speeches echoes
inside your art-covered walls,
green. it's where breaths have slowed
and quickened into pleasurable moans...
"hey can you please open the window?"

it is funny the way i've grown in fondness
of the colour green, almost like a promise
of our love - an everlasting fluoresce.
yet i still want to loudly profess

all over again,
no motive, just simply me:
i am so in love with you,
with everything i have.
always will be,
always yours.
© LAICEY Poems February 2021
Dec 2020 · 1.1k
For her.
LAICEY Dec 2020
5? 6? 7?
(can’t be certain when exactly)

He told me that it was okay.

Some will flinch at the touch.
Some will go into a daze.
Some - I - will crave the touch of strangers, and many at that,
to replace those days.

He told me that I was special.

I became careless and reckless
with love on accommodation sheets.
While I mistaken their meticulously placed words
for love that I thought was finally peace.

He told me that it wouldn’t hurt.

It’s 2:52am and my timeline is flooded
with girls and trials and underwears passed around in court
as if it mattered for the verdict.
The bags around my eyes are flooded
with tears of anger and hatred
as if to beg for some kind of justice.

They told me that I should be flattered.

But the thing is we haven’t been okay since.
It did hurt but we still needed ******* evidence.
We were already special before they took away our innocence.
And now all we can do is get angry and hurt and wince
at the stories like ours that social media has evinced.
We hope to god our daughters will never have a jury to convince.
© LAICEY Poems December  2020
Nov 2020 · 196
LAICEY Nov 2020
You are a bullet,
harmless, fascinating, daunting -
when unprovoked and on your own.
Except maybe a choking hazard.
Nice to touch and feel on my skin, but cold.

Give you power,
or a gun,
your aim is never accurate but
deadly all the same.

I can replay it - you charging
at the TV with incredible speed -
in slow motion.
The sound that followed was deafening.
It was an ear ringing, catastrophic explosion.
It was your fist meeting the screen,
us screaming and me crying,
on my cut up and bruised knees,
begging for you not to leave.

I had a tendency to chase after bullets
and a desire to fix the mess they would create.
I didn’t realise that I was the one being chased.
And that I was my mess I had to clean up.

I’ve stopped going after bullets.
(But now I play with fire.)
© LAICEY Poems November 2020
LAICEY Oct 2020
He watered the flowers in my chest and they blossomed.
I showed him all of the colours on my tongue and he stayed.

He’s like a breath of fresh air,
clearing my mind but filling my lungs.
It’s different and warm. It’s hopeful.
This feels so easy. It’s serene.

There is something remarkable in the way he speaks,
the way he laughs and whispers and sings.
It will remind you of knowledge infused innocence.
Until we’re ******* each other in the kitchen.

We kiss and it’s like I’ve tasted everything sweet,
while my body is being set on fire and
the butterflies’ wings still flutter with desire.
I lay my ear flat against his chest, as I try to
memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat.

We’re driving on an empty highway past borrowed land.
“Paris” is playing at volume thirty five.
I look over and you take my hand.
The rear view mirror is reflected in your green eyes
while the corners of your mouth turns up into a smile,
almost in slow motion. Now I can feel my own grow.

We stay silent but I know and you know:
this is the most profound feeling in life.
© LAICEY Poems October 2020
LAICEY Sep 2020
you’re great at storytelling and
i could fall asleep to the sound
of your voice as it recounts a memory.
but i don’t want to be a part of your story.

i'm not one to be religious but i do hope to
god that i don't become one of them as
you remember the ghosts of us out loud
on the phone at 3am to another like me.

don’t let me be just your character development.
bring me on your entire journey and
let me remain the one you call at 3am
when you're dying to tell all the stories that you’ll have to tell in our future.

i don't want to be a part of your story.
i want to be your reality.
© LAICEY Poems September 2020
LAICEY Sep 2020
The world never melted away at my feet before.
That is until you whispered my name,
and made me feel:
like the word finally has some meaning personal to me,
like all of the stars across the galaxy are exploding in supernovas for me,
like I can finally assign a definition to the feeling I’ve been searching for for 20 years,
like every hurt, every tear shed, every heartache has led me to this point -

the moment when you’d whisper my name for the first time.
It’s a phenomenon.
© LAICEY Poems September 2020
Sep 2020 · 131
the breaking and the broken
LAICEY Sep 2020
taking the blame has never been easy for anyone.
it's a shame that it took hundreds of days,
plus months of isolation where
some terrible truths have been confronted,
for me to admit not only
have I been hurt,
so badly to the point my bones ache for me,
my eyes forced to take the weight of simply surviving,
and my feet won't stand at the thought of you;
I also broke some others just as bad.
I should go back in time and apologise
for reflecting my hurt onto something
so wholesome and pure but
"I’m sorry"s sound like such empty promises now and
I should know because
I've been on the receiving end.
© LAICEY Poems September 2020
LAICEY Jul 2020
I’d like to believe in fairytales.

But where’s the one where the princess
hurls her body over the toilet
in order to rid the knot that’s in her stomach.

The one where she argues with the voice in her head,
then disappears for weeks on end,
having to lie to her friends
“I’m fine.”

The one where she finds her “person” charming
time again and again and again
in several different bodies.

And time again and again and again,
they leave her disappointed and wondering
if her happily ever after resides in the strangers
who take up her bed in the morning.

But this happy ending doesn’t end with a prince charming,
a broken curse or a “happily ever after”.
This one does not even have “The End” in joint italics in the credits.

This will be a happy ending
with the battle with herself as the final chapter,
neither winning or losing, but drawing.
and her credits will roll in joint italics “The Beginning”.

I’d like to believe in that fairytale.
© LAICEY Poems July 2020
Aug 2017 · 3.3k
everything that isn't
LAICEY Aug 2017
I feel everything
that isn't there.
I think everything
that isn't true.
I try everything
that isn't me.
And my head and heart
both pound as one:
it's the rhythm
to my daily anthem,
accompanied by my feet
dancing - no,
creating tsunamis of bones
trying to keep still,
with my fingers tingling
a sort of white dust
that create a layer
of pure emptiness
all 'round me,
separating me from
all of reality.
I wish you knew
how scared I am
when you try
to save the me
who isn't here.
© LAICEY Poems August 2017
Aug 2017 · 337
a kind of bravery
LAICEY Aug 2017
it is:
when lovers sit underneath the stars
and talk about promises;
when we let ourselves taste
the bitterness in rehearsing love,
only to learn to let go.
© 2017 August LAICEY Poems
Aug 2017 · 477
A Twister
LAICEY Aug 2017
My mind is this raging hurricane and
you can't calm a storm down lest it wants to be stopped
but mine never seem to want to stop.
Every gush of wind pushes me over
to the edge and forces me to look down
into a never ending medium
where nothing exists.

I'm sorry I'm not lazy, in fact
if you tore apart this facade and
looked inside this skin,
you will find a girl searching
tirelessly for her self worth
and for happiness for
she wants to prevail, she
wants to be loved and she
wants to never stop believing.

But my hands and feet don't stop
adding earthquakes to my storm torn
body. My brain races faster than my
mouth can speak so I'm sorry
if you can't understand what I -

No, it's not that I don't want to see you,
it's just that my heart is running a marathon
and I'm already worn out thinking
about the way I'm going to say "hi",
the way I'm just waiting for the ground
to swallow me whole just to be saved.
© 2017 August LAICEY Poems
Aug 2017 · 3.0k
LAICEY Aug 2017
Our every word that comes out
has the potential to **** when
your seemingly fragile but villainous
lips caresses my weaponed tongue
encouraging the venomous noise to be
reborn again and again.
Soft yet viscious touch.
I demand for more.
I urge for attention.

Patience is running thin!

I never even looked away from the
light in your eyes
but you were watching my entire flesh
burn and rot in the colours you gave me.
When you left, all went dark
for the light in your eyes were
fires that burned too bright
and couldn't last.
It was then
when I was standing all alone
in the black hole you helped me create,
the one that ****** away everything I loved,
I realized that I was colourblind,
that your touch and your words
were bleach that sunk into my core,
leaving me only in black and white.
~ part 2 ~
this is the second half of a two-piece poem,
this is how the masterpiece ends.

"Masterpiece" and "Colourless" can be read as two entirely separate poems, however, they were originally written all in one poem but due to further alterations, they were suited to be split in two.
© 2015/17 August LAICEY Poems
Aug 2017 · 432
LAICEY Aug 2017
Your ink stained mouth
knows how to spit out
lovesick poems and coherent lines
that would keep me on my toes,
have my body bent and arched
for you.

My skin is painted with
the colours you gave me;
and though you gave me colours,
I sometimes talk in black and white
with words that I know can
heal, break, curse and bless
any canvas.
Your canvas.
~ part 1 ~
this is the first half of an originally written two-piece poem,
the beginning of what was called “a colourless masterpiece”.
© 2015/17 August LAICEY Poems
Aug 2017 · 578
A Lunar Eclipse
LAICEY Aug 2017
the moon learned "love" off by heart
in hopes to impress the sun.

Every breath you gave me, left me
aching in your light which was just
a masquerade for your burning touch.
Though, over the horizon,
you were everybody's
favourite sunset;
while below the horizon,
I was the broken reflection
of the moon.

but it never learned that the pair had
never and will never meet.
and that love is not meant to be
written down and learned
like poetry.
inspired by the solar eclipse.
© 2017 August LAICEY Poems

— The End —