Hello there.

It has been five years now to the day I met you in person again.

After like, years of not meeting.

Five years plus a few days.

Ah.

If someone told me five years ago I'd be what I am now, I'd probably laugh my *** all the way to the Singapore River and threw myself into it.
(you know I can't swim.)

I wasn't always like this, you know that don't you?

Bitter, bitter heart of mine.

Though it is precisely why bitterness enjoys misery's company : bitterness provides the bleak landscape which misery just sits and broods for days on end.


But then again, I wonder.

Did your coming into my life herald my restart?

Was it the end of my reign of dysphoria, the king in black with eyes that mirror nothing but echoes of yesteryear?

Perhaps, just perhaps.


That one day I made my decision to honour both of us.

To fully enclose myself, wrap my soul around yours.

The warmth of acceptance and eternal patience for one such as I.


I remember how much you hated me writing.

I remember how much you hated me recalling about moments past.

I remember most bitter moments, and wash them with water when you leave me all alone.


But I keep your smiles close to my heart.

Remember how we first went out?


Through the glass, right?



Ah.

So much transpired since then.


Funny how I've become synonymous with you and antagonistic to others.




Perhaps they were the kindling so I could step upon the grey expanse of ash.



I don't regret the choices I made.


Choices imply responsibility.

And all this time I thought I had responsibility over myself.

But I didn't.


She once told me to love myself.
She once told me to be good
She once told me many things, but I never once was any of them.



Funny.

I'm supposed to say something melodic or dissonant here.


Isn't that what I do best, poetry?


But no.


This is no poem.


This is no love letter.


This is no song.


This is someone who has been beaten black and blue.


This is someone who is numb.


Someone who would laugh as the whole world quite literally burns around him and perish screaming, fingers raised in a one gun salute.


This is a confession.


This is me no longer in doubt.


It's a rocky road ahead.


Surprisingly, we taught each other how to love.


I, with my scars.


You, with your demons.


Your feet and mine in a shy embrace.


The difference between us like how one would view the moon and the stars from down below.


Yet fail to notice, the moon and the stars will forever be closer than those down below will ever be.


With a simple task and clear intent, but a blatant disregard for preservation, a malevolent will.

Even though this is all happening, this immolated man spent moments frozen in eternity with your eyes open wide, a circle immaculate, the simplest bewitching of a non-physical drug candy.



With calculated movements befitting the only dance we'll forever do with each other.


For every second crawling by, feeding the smouldering flames between us, harkening to the start of it all.


Happy birthday my love.


Here's to us again.

Here's to you.


Love, ZHB.

Finding the words to say,
Instead resorting to babbling semantics.
Victory so close at hand
Easing all sense of doubt (and courage)

Yesterday even though was rosy
Eased all doubts,
And united us, once and for all.
Restoration of hope, ending heartache.
So, we do the dance again and again.

Love, here's to you.
Oh my goodness.
Love, here's to us.

"So I uh, well. Heh."


"أنا  بحبِك"

Before you were here before,
I didn't know where to look at,
To be standing, being bronzed by the Sun, or to be seated, head held in my hands.


And the orchestral works that ensued weren't unlike bird traps, binding the next one, til I had enough and discarded innards I had enough supping on.


Never did I know the least likely of insidious chapters I would go through,
New beginnings would herald,
Gritted teeth and gratitude ensuing.


Psychosis attacks, mental breakdowns and more scars on the body, beautifully macabre.
I'm all hung up, you were all stuck up,
Til I stuck you up.

I am a machine,
I was a machine,
A war machine.

A pretty hate machine.

A love so brittle it might as well be bound in papyrus.

The faintest of smiles would rekindle it though, and etch more scriptures onto once bony, stony hearts.

The silent tick of the clock
Brings me home to you

The silent tick of the clock
Brings me home, to you.

You are the unwritten sensation,
The unspoken passion.

Held passively,
Arms bound around my skin,

Just the two of us,
In this moment forever.

C'est la vie./Through the glass

We abashedly curled at lips

Swooned at hips

Harkening back to a period of time that no longer existed

(Where is my mind?)

She was-
Is still beautiful
Neither there, just here now.

Her voice echoing ever and ever :

"Hello."

We're fiction as long we're not within grasp
My diction requires your palm on my crown
Your friction may just feed me benediction.


The heart's jurisdiction is a fickle contraption
A not so subtle crucifixion nor constriction
Ensued when I fought against interdiction

You've become my addiction, my mental preoccupied obsession.
A depiction of dereliction's eviction.
Never again will there be remission's nonfiction.

You are to me, like how blood and wine are interchangeable, mutable.

I am to you, the raging storm passing by the coast, cold relief down your spine.


Both together, hand in hand, an addictive desire to better oneself, and the lust for ruination.


You are the ghost I'll never give up.

On a lighter note,
Love is a striptease that never ends
Even the most jaded will grudgingly admit
And for the notes that struck the heart
Notes that bring synthesia into the gray
Daring the gloom to seep, weeping into life
Enter joy, endless mirth, for it is how things should be.
Rejuvenating, primordial essence for the soul, and a cool wind for the mind.

I know it speaks a lot when the shards that embedded themselves into me still aren't dislodged.

Much like Tony Stark, we're both afraid of what would happen if we take them out, for as much as we would literally die if we don't take them out, we're deathly afraid of the process.

What if it goes wrong?
What if it turns out worse?

What if I become different?
And I lose my sense of purpose, the burning passion, the spark of devilry put out?


What if I'm afraid of change?

"Now, bow, dip, twist and turn."

Now, vow, lip, trust and yearn.


Are you hungry?

Time like a yarn,

Love like a dream, causing fluster,

Making bluster.


Are you in love?

Rhymes like ****,

Love licking off cream, causing blusher,

Making bluster.

Come into my arms

Against my chest, wrapped in my embrace

Nothing seems to matter now.

Through repeated patterns, a sense of familiarity

Rummage we did, through our own senses and emotions

Inside yesterday, we found today.

Perhaps, even today will be worth it for tomorrow.

I'll rather get lost in Hell attempting to find you
I gather that being last in Heaven but walking through those gates with you is fate

Feed the insatiable hunger so that I'm victorious
Lead the sashaying young ones

We're covered by the names of lovers from pages past.

Tattered rags, and rusted chrome chains bond us, bind us.

You're my happiness in slavery.