I miss the cookie crumbs that fell from your lips and then dotting the wooden table.

It drove me
crazy-insane.

Thing is, it was good crazy.
The one where undiluted happiness bubbles into your chest.

Inexplicably lighting up places you thought the light switches
were
terribly
br ok            
                       en.

Now,
I am
slowly and surely
losing it.

Wit by wit, memory by moment(s).

Truthfully,
I neither have a lucid nor clear recollection of how we first met.

How my little heart took its fall blindly,
with wisps of hope edging around it,
don't you dare ask.
I don't know myself.

It's that one moment hazy and crinkled at the edges,
but its the very one that we adore when
it plays peek-a-boo
on
rainy days.

It is the kaleidoscope of little memories ribboned together that slowly unravel,
and
begin
to
dance on your closed lids.

All I know is there is a

beginning

& and &
no
end.

Not just yet,
not
in
*forever.

"Not everything about you, sweet-heart, is weird.
A wink flits into a mind; this gorgeous upside-down moon crescent.
It does not matter, (like a comma, his fingertips said a shy hello to hers.)
if one's eyebrow is slightly more arched than the other
or
there are freckles dotting your skin
No.
Don't you ever think it is a defect.
It is not.
Please do not protest.
If you wish to go down that way, hm, then
it's
the most imperfect, lovely perfections
that has
nudged & tickled
my heart once,
twice & ∞
"

To finish his sentence, he kissed the tip of her nose like a full stop
.

And with just one little word, or was it a few?

Warmth and balminess became ice & wisps of cold.
Laughs became little sobs; gasping for air for all the wrong reasons.

A
home
does
not
seem
quite
like
it.

It feels like unravelled ribbons.

Painted grey & blue hearts.

Tears on dinner plates.

Cold tea staining raw, chapped lips.

Your breaths merely touching your bare ribcage.

Empty, emptiness simply seep into your veins,
the spaces in your skin, then the ones in your heart
and
in the
very words
you
speak.

I cannot close
my
tired, tired
lids
over
it.

Please just carefully pick up the jigsaw pieces of my heart on the floor.

Yes, I can put it back.
No matter, how much time etches into my very skin.
I
can
do
   it.

I just feel that if I can see the dust-motes on my shoes, I won't be able to get up again.

Just, please?

Please, also,
look at the little pieces too.

See your finger-prints on it; that was from the first time your fingertips kissed mine.

See that little memory crumpled and creased saying 'Hello?'

Whisper
a
soft good-bye.

*Please, sweets?

I am so in love.

I draw love-hearts within love-hearts.

Now, let me just hide my crimson cheeks and the flickers of shyness behind those
white,
white covers.

My heart has been
d,
since your eyes met mine.
i
The little gaps punctuating the Z's are
filled by the little crease line that gently brackets your mouth right before you smile,
z
the way your eyes flickers in amusement; it's like a dozen of stars winking at me.
The words you speak from those lips flit recklessly in between.
z
It's the tiniest of winks that causes my heart to stutter a little.

Just a little, ok-ay, sweet-heart?
Don't flatter yourself.
y
It's that inexplicable yet silence that does not quite feel like silence.

Be careful*
when you hold my hand.
Please?
As much as my winter-bitten lips refuse to say

"I am fragile."

Don't worry, spring will kiss them.

Between my wrist and fingertips, bear a gossamer web of time's sewing, see that criss-cross there, yes, it's still mending.

Little threads of fine, fine alchemy.

Above all, be very careful & wide-eyed
with my heart.

The space between my ribs and my white heart painted red
bears
old, old scars
that never quite
closed
to
s l e e p.

Creased memories still peek-a-boo here & there
before
threads and thin lines of time seam them away.

It is scary, I know.

But, I promise,
I'll do the same for you, sweet-heart.

Could you fill my sunday mornings
with little kisses on the nose
between yawns
&
let sleep dance across our eyelids
just for a little

while
more
?

The man that never quite stop loving her.

In a flurry of hair and crimson cheeks,

"Why?"

He pauses and smiles a smile that he very well knows
it will never flicker the same on her lips.

"That's not the point, I simply love you with
no expectations;
one where
your heart takes the same fall as mine."

*Except that my outstretched fingertips
will catch
yours.

If you can feel pain;
the soft slicks and flicks upon places
you thought
were
impervious,

just close your eyes,
and let bittersweet memories ribboned and edged with yellowing creases infuse into the little emptiness within you.

Just cautiously remember,
no,
actually
be
silly-crazy-reckless
with this,

remember that you can feel happiness too.
Those untitled somethings,
just please,
please,
         let them dance & flit across your heart.
Let their little etchings of 'Happy' remain there infinitely.
∞

So, a crooked smile led to one shy hello.

The
Hello met Hi.

Scuffed shoes nudges patented heels;
whilst fingertips whisper their balmy warmness into one another.

Witty, sweet nothings filled the little empty spaces from his lips to hers.
Which may have led to coffee with a raised eyebrow and crimson cheeks.

Two plates of risotto
&
4 forks
eventually
replaced
by
1 plate of strawberry cheesecake
&
2 dessert forks.

Then,

I fell met *in love.

Sweet-heart,*
pumpkin
munchkin,
beautiful.

"Yes,yes, it's so very lovely."
She slowly says;
as her fingertips dances across the wooden table.
"Now, hush those alarmed and worried eyes."

"But somehow,
when your lips speak
every syllable
of
my name;
it's like a lost and forgotten
piece of me
returned."

"Oh really?"
And like a full stop to a sentence,
he gives a
kiss
on
her crimson cheek
.

Today, I found a silver of understanding.

It was hidden, blanketed and veiled
by
old,
o  d d
things.

My parted lips breathes the dust away.

Now, I know why they used to say,

Don't grow up too fast, you'll grow old anyway,

darling.

Sorry
plays its incessant note

&

fades like wisps of smoke.

Like

s
             *p  
                  i
                       l
                           t
                                wine

on this

dust-mote
kissed
floor.

Red,
than
g o n e.

One day,
I'll whisper all my secrets;
all those unspoken wishes etched on the creased edges of my heart,
those lost in the depths of my skin
& and &
those little daydreams that blurs my vision

into
a
glass jar.

Oh, he thinks
I am silly.

The whole starry universe can say
I am silly.
That I am a fool.

But that's
fine,
sweet-hearts.  

I'll lock it away, write a note on the side.
Let it be slightly yellowed and creased with time.
Just a ***** of a reminder
of
what
tick-tocks
can do.

Here lies something so very powerful in your hands.
An alchemy of messy hope entangled with rhapsodic notes of my soul.

Now, what you do next is to be

reckless.
Daring.

I want you to b r e a k this glass.
Let happy sighs escapes those parted lips.

Make another laugh line; one that creases your cheek and eyes.

Fill your lungs with the sweet, sweet balmy air.

Let what you promised with half-drawn infinity signs be filled,
now what dances on infinity will never lose its way.

Speak the words you have been wishing to say.

In between the cracking of glass shards, let the sweetness of the daydream meld *wildly.

One* day, I hope you know, sweet heart.
That words spoken from your lips to mine were tied by that smile
&
ribboned by wispy threads of memories,

the way you stared at me in off-handed moments;
your eyes
playing peek-a-boo with mine
across a place filled with beating hearts.

Mine was the fastest, that I do know.

That you pulled pieces of my heart apart
slow & soft
like a promise,

then jigsawed it back together.

But surely, it splintered into indecipherable pieces that escapes my hopeful fingertips.

The irony is I don't wish that upon you either.
I hope you do know,
I
really
*do.

Soft gazes,
blind fingertips,
crooked smiles,
crimson cheeks;
cheekbones high with something inexplicable.

Happiness melding with the slow notes of hope, perhaps?

Something ribbons and flits in the air-
it's sweet, bitter but enchanting.  

I'll inhale it infinitely.
∞
Let happy seep into these starved veins.

Fill this empty, empty heart,
please
?

Ever had a daydream that is so very lovely?

It softly and unexpectedly
ribbons and edges
your vision,
a smile dances & flits on your lips.

The starry universe's susurrations and whispers come to a silent ebb;
only daintily replaced by those
slightly creased and crinkled moments
&
future tick-tocking wishes.

It takes a full moment for it to wisp away.

Sadly, I do not know how long that moment ticks for.

Backwards or forwards?

According to Chemistry,

one mole = 6.02 x 10^23.

Equivalent to
A computer counting 10 billions times every second would take 2 million years to reach that number.

And that is what we are made of,
the things that we kiss, hug and live in.

We are infinite
∞
universes ourselves.

Please, please don't let anything
dull
those
stars.

The ones that glitters your eyes,
the subtle ones that effervescently lights your very soul.
And above beyond,
the little winks playing
peek-a-boo
in
your
smile.

Frankly, this feeling of vulnerability and weakness is so very consuming.

The undeniable fact that my heart is puppeted by those gossamer wisps of daydreams and
of course,
you
remains etched in my skin.

I cannot quite
let you go
because that would
simply
mean
I will let me go too.

Let grateful, itself kiss your skin.

Let it twirl and wisp around those fingertips you can tweedle with,
to
write, draw, make unimaginable,wonderful
untitled somethings.

Slowly but surely,
that effervescent feeling bubble into your body;
sparks of bliss lighting those dark, dark oblivions.

I don't care!
Let those words
carelessly snuggle
themselves
in
the lines of your fingerprint.

Bare those pearly whites
everywhere,
sweet-heart!

Misspellings.

Coincidental; little mistakes
that make us
oh, so very
human.

A stroke or a little flick of ink that makes that dizzying difference
between what your lips wants to say
and
what is starkly conventional.

But trust me,
sweets,
when I write
I love you
at the
very end of
creased
coffee-stained and red lipped marked
napkins.

It isn't quite a mistake.

Hush those slightly alarmed eyes.

Perhaps, it's just my white heart painted red's
blissful
*fall.

The fact that
this b l a n k page
can be the next great love story

or

the gibberish
that
knots and unknots
your mind
scribbled and flicked
in ink.

Frankly,
the
infinite
∞
possibilities
are
*terrifying & wonderful.

I daydream f a r  too much.

My eyes must have been kissed by the starry sky  

& ampersand &

the wispy clouds are tickling the very tip of my nose,

and
oh
yes,

I am on my tiptoes.

I love you.

At least that is one true truth.

One that I can
always,

a l w a y s

come back
to.

Softly, unknowingly,
like the steam from these cups of hot coffee.
You languidly permeate through me.
Sweet & bitter
paints my little white heart
red.
With unbroken gazes, blind hands, shy fingertips,
our crimson cheeks
hues
over
winter-bitten
faces.

I am left with scraped knees,
fingertips that spent their days counting the ones they would be able to meet yours.

Raw, bruised, red lips from all those unspoken wishes that lulls those tired eyelids to sleep.

A heart full of love to kiss, dance, tickle you with.

Eyelashes with tears edging the corners.

Swallow that inexplicable sense of speechlessness.

Save those for undeniable sweet things on sunshine-kissed days.

I'll be okay.

Will be okay.

I love you & that is ok-ay.

I used to think foolishly think 11 was late.

Now, I close my eyelids at 12 when the skies are dotted with
stars and little dreams.
Letting the day's memories, melded with the rhapsodic dust motes of the past,
gently sewing them.

In the backwards of time, I used to think love had a limit.

A misconstrued and misunderstood thing.

Silly me,
now I have
*you.

We all write those sweet, sweet words about that
him or her.

Each letter; a soft smile plays on your lips.

Between the spaces are the living, breathing and crinkled memories of that person.

Flitting in and out; peek-a-boo with you.

I wonder with wide-eyed curiosity which
flickers and edges
my eyelashes,
how does your him or him look like?

How do their lips crack a smile?

Where do their footsteps lead to?
Back to your door, I hope?

I will never quite know.

But one thing I do know with certainty,
my god,
they
are
beautiful.

Disappointment,
saccharine sweet and bitter.

This inexplicable thing
seeps and tickles
into
the empty spaces
you
hope with crossed fingers
he
will
fill.

A slow knife that graces across the infinite gossamer wisps of daydreams that meanders your heart.

Slow.

Soft.

Slow.

Soft.

B        r         o                    
               k      e    n.

C r a c k e d.

Clearly, darling, you do not understand why
I love you.

All of you.

Stare at these two cups of coffee or look into my eyes.
Shuffle your feet, tangle your fingertips in your hair.
I don't care,
just listen and
let my words
meld into that beautiful mind.
Okay?

For a person to be here, it took years.
The little wisps of hair that always gets into your eyes.
The laugh-line underneath your cheek.

It all took an immeasurable number of tick-tocks.

In those infinite string of days was hours.

In those hours, there were minutes.
And yes, in those minutes are seconds.

Now, don't roll your eyes just yet.
Dotting in between the mellow epochs are experiences, dreams, unspoken wishes behind closed eyelids, tears, laughter crinkling your lips.
The creasing of the edges of your heart.
The sound of your very breaths in a lonely room.

If you think in such numbing detail, eventually I found myself happily and hopelessly tangled in those strings of little infinities.

And then, I fell in love with you.

It's simple really.

Forgiveme,butIdon'twishtowritewithspaces.
Itlookstoomuchlikeme.

The spaces between my breaths are sighs.
Bare with only tears echoing into them.
The e m p t y s p a c e between my ribcage and heart gnaws slowly deeper into
me.

Broken,cracked&irreparable&lone;ly.

Heartbreaks are one of silence.

The Quietest.
It is when the edges of heart begin to splinter and crack under all those unspoken words that you dare not say.

It is the barely whispered wishes to starry skies that etches itself on your ribcage.
And my, etch themselves wordless they do.

How can something of fiction be so very real?
Please, tell me, how something so silent can deafen my ears.

But then again, you won't hear me.
You
cannot.

We had big dreams,
you and me.

You & I,
I mean.

Thing is, kid,
all of that lived and died
in
the backward
of
*time.

Never have I felt so acutely
a l o n e.
How can such an   empty, empty   feeling swallow every little bit of me?

As I stare at the ceiling, darkness blurs and dips into the spaces of my vision.
I can barely make out the corners of where each wall connects to each other.

Inevitably, I wander how something so seemingly vast and big can come to an end; closure.

A limit.

I feel so very small.

How about me?

I feel very lost indeed.

I love the way my voice sounds when I say your name.

It's like honey melding into the warm butter on toast.
Sipping water after eating mints.

Those sorts of capricious and silly feelings.

It is consuming, inextricably tangling my words when I am speaking.
Every little word slightly unhinges from its meaning and spells out yours.

Somehow you find your way into my laughter, giggles and smiles.

So, please don't say you are just a person.
Sure, you don't rule the universe.
But you sure do      d.o.t  the stars             in mine,
sweet heart.

It's . . .                                      
the scrape-your-knees,
messy,
yet simple misconstrued concept
of why is the sky blue sort of fancying.

It's silly, it's sweet as cherry pie and honey, this liking to him.

The type that lights up this warm hue in your eyes.

Which is by the way, the sort of effervescent feeling that curve your lips upwards so softly,
it slips past your lulling conscience and dazed & starry-eyed gaze.

Yes, its kissing stupidity; tickling with giggles.
Yes, your cheeks are hued crimson, to the tops of your ears.

But then, he simply says 'Huh, do I look like that too?'
and
winks
like
it's a little unspoken
'yes'
between
your lips.

I am not sure anymore.
I wonder if you ever thought of what I thinking right this moment.

Have you, sweetheart?
Because, if you have and still do,
please,
can I give you a
hug?

Where exactly does my words go?
What happens to them in this starry, messy universe, we call home?

Sometimes, they etch themselves on the little edges of your heart.
Other times, they remain an incessant tune in someone's ear.
Its notes silently whittle away an unwanted scar.

The flitting alphabet of their voice behind your eyelids even when the dark envelopes you.
Sometimes, it fits safe and sound between the lines of your very fingerprint.

Others sink, permeate through your very skin, making a home out of you.

The artfully crafted letters, hemmed with that moment.
It lives and breathes in the sweet pockets of something we call
memory.

To say 'I love you" to someone is never truly easy.
The 'I love you' to the right someone, that is.

Three little words is

A promise on the edges of their heart.

It is the little laugh line right beneath their cheek.

It's the feeling of home enveloping and dipping
into
the
empty      spaces
of
their   b r e a t h s.

-*11:15pm, 23rd January

"Hm.. Is this how happy looks like?"
I voice out absentmindedly.

My eyes stare at the wood grain adorning the table.
  Wordlessly, it speaks of the age.

He slowly wrote each letter on this scrap of paper.

Happy.

And drew an straight arrow at the very bottom,
towards

me.

"Yes, that's how it looks like.
Beautiful, yes?"

You know that discomfiting feeling where there is something at the very back of your throat?
Softly silencing all your words.
It doesn't quite go away for a while.

But there certainly isn't any silence between my eyes and his.

"Yeah, me too."

Inaudible to this messy, starry universe.

But enough for
*m i ne.

This certain stillness, inertia of silence pools in my ears.
         My voice slowly becomes            nothing.

Permeating, crumbling, dissolving, cracking this skin.
                                                                ­    Aren't I stronger?  

The syllables of the sentence ebbs into a fade in my mind.
Now, it is just the      empty      spaces      between the words.

Breaths come s  l  o  w ,  languid,  waves of letting    go.

Heavy infuses into the light.

Memories of sweetness
are
blinked
away
              by         glassy eyes.

The type of moments that ribbons and edge the corners of your vision.

My lips barely forms the 'bye' I've been dreaming of.
My fingertips couldn't touch them once more.

This inebriation comes soft and slow.
It is the drunkenness that leaves you begging for more
and half of heart wishing for it to stop.

How could it though?

I cannot wish with      half a heart.                            
With half of me?

It is a ballad for all those cracked hearts whose notes will
kiss you
away
into dust.

"Surely there is more than this."
There is something that hinges on her last word.
Ah, its
hope.
Misplaced, misguided thing.

"The universe is beautiful, yes?"
    She nods slowly.

My hand cups the side of her face, my fingertips lightly brushing her cheekbone.

"You plucked the stars speckling these skies
then dotting it onto
my fingertips,
then my wrists
and
the deepest oblivions in me."

If there is anything more than that.

We
          are all too    selfish    for
our own good.

My lips have been kissed by the white lies
etched on the back of my eyelids.

Even the lulling tendrils sleep cannot blank it out.

I see it every single time the time strikes midnight.
Slowly but surely it mingles into my very fingertips.

Filling the empty space in me.
Which is everywhere.

If I said: " No, I am not cracked, bruised
and
that
my very soul hasn't been diluted by the bittersweet goodbye from your lips to mine.

White lie 1.

When your footsteps walked away, mine wasn't hesitating, cold and lost.

White lie 2.

If I said I didn't pray for rain, so my tears will meet their own.

White lie 3.

And above all,

If I ever say
" I didn't love him with every breath I have taken and will take in this universe that doesn't quite feel that starry and vast anymore."

Sweet heart, that is
white lie
∞
.

Sadness; this heavy thing begins to silt through my body.

Threatening to weigh me down.

Till my very heart is on the stone-cold ground.
Till *time itself sews itself into this space in my chest.

Pathetic, vulnerable fetal position twists my everywhere.

You can scoff, call me weak.

I dare you.

However,
say it when you feel the death of something so acutely.
- I refer to it as something as you don't lose someone.
They are very much alive in the memories.-    

The moments dusty and blurry at the edges.
The same ones that gently seam your eyelids every single night.

Compelling you to live in the dusty, yellowed past.
The choice becomes nothing but
yours.

But it isn't mine either.      

My stubborn heart still beats with something that is defined as life
but
doesn't
quite
feel like
                                                             i   t.

"You are inane,
sweet-heart.
   That's why I love you."

"Are you calling me all things, unintelligent, nonsensical and lacking sense?"

Her eyebrows knit together; the corner of her red lips twitch upwards slightly.

A soft line brackets her mouth.

Parentheses to all the words she has ever voiced and will say.

"Well, clearly not then. I was just checking."

His eye winks; curving into a
tipsy,
upside down moon crescent.

Is this how happiness feel like?

Oh, the way my lips gently curve upwards is like..

Sleepy eyes kissed airily by sunshine,
                                                                ­               buttering toast on a bitter cold winter's day.
                                                   When it is so very cold,                                                            ­                
every breath feels like toothpaste and mint.    
It is the worries being unknotted.                                                       ­ 

                                                               ­                  Little inexplicable sparks that can light even the darkest        souls.