I'm aware of what
I'm falling into
but no it won't
minimize the impact.

I understand you're the type
that needs constant attention
but I don't see myself
having that much time.

I believed that slowly
you made me fall
because after some time
I found myself quite happy.

I realize I loved you
because I know I would
walk through hell
just to see you smile.

I promised myself
I wouldn't get hurt
because you were the type
to love, leave and break.

I stopped myself
from smiling like an idiot
when you hugged me
and kissed my hair.

I trusted you
with my dearest secrets
and no, you did not
let me down.

I dearly loved
the smallest things you do,
your smile, your laugh
and your personality too.

I remember that day
you bought me Oreos
was the same day
I stopped guarding my heart.

My happiness, my life
my other half,
if you ever break me,
at least make it last.

Because truly
the only person
I want to hurt me
is you.

W.H.Y~

I remember my body trembling as I took my first step inside Payton High,
I remember my hitched breath and twitching eye,
I remember sitting behind a blue eyed boy during homeroom,
I remember thinking his eyes would be able to light up the gloom.

I remember it took me exactly one day,
To walk to him during lunch with my tray,
I remember offering him my cheese dip,
And that was the start of our friendship.

I remember wondering why he was always alone,
When he was the most beautiful being I’ve ever known,
He was spontaneous; he loved feathers; he loved star gazing,
You could say I fell in love with him because he was amazing.

Everyone ignored him as he walked on by,
I never understood the reason why.
So cold, so aloof, so distant from the crowd,
I remember thinking it was because he was so proud.

I tried many ways to draw him close,
A movie, a drink, a lunch, all that I could propose,
I am sorry, I am so sorry, was all he said,
The light in his eyes went dead.

I was never his and he was never mine,
With this fact, I had to pretend I was fine,
Little did he know he was killing me,
Because my heart was locked and he had the key.

I remember it was a rainy fifth of July,
When I was talking to a teary eyed guy,
Who had a newspaper on his right hand,
And on the left was a pink wristband.

R.I.P it wrote in capital letters,
With a picture of two white feathers,
I took the newspaper and there on the obituary,
I saw ‘To the 1st anniversary of Alfie Ary’.

The picture of my blue eyed boy was staring back at me,
Black and white his smile filled with glee,
My world started spinning round and round,
My thoughts in disarray as I fell to the ground.

Where was he, I looked all around,
But he was nowhere to be found.
The corridors were filled with haunting memories,
Of questions unasked and cryptic apologies.

I was in shock, was his existence a lie?
Just then a cold breeze blew by,
I remember his shaky breath whispering one last time,
“I love you baby, but you can't be mine”.

W.H.Y~

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he looked at me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he smiled at me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he said hi to me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and I fell in love with him.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he was already looking at me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and I could tell by his eyes
that he was in love with me.

The night is young,
the year is not.
The moon is shinning,
but I am not.

I'm writing a poem
and not thinking
about how the year
is almost ending.

Cheers come from the dimly lit television
as some guy tries to shoot a goal.
Clicking noises come from my mom's fingernails against her new laptop.

There are eight people in this room
providing a cheery atmosphere
but it's raining heavily outside
and I feel remorse.

I try not to think
about how the year is ending
but unfortunately
it doesn't seem like it's working.

Face the future with a frown
as it will be another year of suffering.
What I need of more
is some **** courage.

Face the future with a smile
even if it brings uncertaincy.
There are many things to look forward to
like a new room or a new start.

An optimist or a pessimist
the new year is coming
and my dear
there's no more running
(away from it)

W.H.Y~

When I was younger
I use to be afraid
of the demons
in the year above us.

They walked the halls
like it belong to them.

They entered a room
like they owned it.

I thought that when
I grew up
I would posses the
very same power  

but

it was never much the same.

A year later
and I'm still
looking down at floors,
avoiding all eye contact.

When I enter a room,
no one realises I'm there

when I walk the halls,
I hardly make a sound

and that's when it hit me

confidence doesn't increase
as you grow older.

The little girl in my journalism
had more confidence to talk to me
and I would ever have
to start a conversation.

You either have it
or you don't.

Confidence is shaped
by your personality,
not your age.

Sometimes, I kinda wish this wasn't the end
I had so much fun and looking at
the other excitement still contending,
I wish that I had more to come.

I don't want high school to end,
a fifteen year old girl,
with half a year left
seems like a scary thought.

I wish I had more time,
to be a little more free
but this is all I get
and it is time to move on.

crowded markets
empty streets
faded hopes
blissful dreams.

there is one little place
where i belong
at a enduringly beautiful
time like this.

quiet mornings
noisy afternoons
filled with relatives
and long lost friends.

confused rituals
followed through the week
obliviously but with intent
to make it a happy new year.

don't sweep the floor
you'll sweep away the luck
don't wash your hair
or you'll lose the luck.

don't buy new shoes
on the very first week
or you'll be cursed
with many years of tragedy.

bring beautiful flowers
when visiting houses
because it symbolises
growth in life.

open the windows
wide and deep
allow in the wind
and also fortune.

4 word phrases
muttered everywhere
with intent of
receiving many 'ang paus'


"GONG XI FA CHAI
MAN XI YU YI
SAN TAI  KING HONG
DAI GA DAI LEI"

they will shout
as they enter the room
the phrases of happiness
and prosperity

cheery faces
loud voices
anything to stop
the demons inside

early mornings
waiting for relatives
to sit and eat
grandma's breakfast

'zhai' with rice
on the very first day
and porridge with
'lo bak gou' the very next day

reunion dinners
interesting stories
positive enthusiasm
and blessed happiness.

chinese new year
isn't about the money
or the entire year ahead
that would be filled with luck

i finally realized
it is about
being all together
in a crowded room
just for one day.

THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST.
YOU AREN’T IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, NOT YET.
NOW, HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HOLD YOU
WHEN YOU BREAK APART OF WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP
RIGHT NOW, ALL HIS HANDS KNOW ARE THE WAYS
TO MAKE SELF DESTRUCTION FEEL A LOT LIKE SELF INDULGENCE.
HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR AND INSIDE HIS EYES
YOU CAN SEE THE WAY HIS UNDECIDED WHITES MIX WITH HIS BLUES
PREPARING FOR A WAR IN HIS MIND
TO GIVE UP ON ALL THAT LIFE HAS TO OFFER.
HE DOESN’T SEE THE WAY HIS BLUE-GREEN ORBS SWIRL,
LIKE THE WAVES OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN CRASHING ONTO THE SHORE.
HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS NOT ONLY THE COLOUR
OF THE SUIT HIS FATHER WORE IN HIS COFFIN BECAUSE
THE SHADE ONLY SEEMS TO REMIND HIM OF THE WAY
HIS FATHER USE TO TELL HIM THAT HE WAS DISAPPOINTED.
HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS ALSO THE COLOUR
OF FREEDOM AND IF HE WENT OUT OF THE HOUSE ENOUGH
HE WOULD HAVE SEEN IT IN THE CLOUDS AND THE BIRDS
BUT NOW ALL HE CAN DO IS STARE AT HIS REFLECTION
IN THE TOILET OF THE FLESH AND BONES THAT CARVE HIS DEMEANOUR AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM
THAT HIS EYES REPRESENT THE OCEAN
AND THE WAY IT IS RELUCTANT TO GIVE UP KISSING THE SHORE
NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HAS BEEN SENT BACK.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES
ARE MORE THAN JUST BLUE AND HIS SKIN
IS MORE THAN JUST SCARS BECAUSE IF WHAT HE WANTS
TO CARVE OFF IS NOT JUST SKIN AND BLOOD
BUT THE PAIN FROM THE BEATING PULSE BENEATH IT
TELL HIM TO MOVE ON FROM HIS FATHER’S DEATH
BECAUSE THAT WOULD HURT A LOT MORE
THAN JUST STOPPING THE PULSE.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH HIM THAT THE BLADE
IS NOT THE ANSWERS OF ALL HIS PROBLEMS
BECAUSE EVEN IF SCARS HEAL, LIFE MAY NOT BE ABLE
TO FORGIVE YOU FOR THE TIME YOU SPENT MOURNING IN GUILT.
DO NOT GIVE UP.

THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST.
YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU THINK YOU DO
BUT YOU STILL CAN’T QUITE UNDERSTAND WHY THE DEMONS
CHOOSE HIM AND WHY HE REFUSES TO LET GO BUT TONIGHT
HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE AND THE BLAME
BECAUSE HE HAS YOU.

YOUR TOUCH BURNS HIM MORE THAN THE BLADES EVER HAVE
AND HE THINKS THAT THE SCARS ARE HEALING
BUT HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT PEOPLE LEAVE SCARS TOO
SO HE HOLDS YOU AT NIGHT
AS YOU WHISPER EMPTY PROMISES IN HIS EAR.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
HE LISTENS AS YOU TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES
REMIND YOU OF THE GALAXIES
AND EVERY TIME THAT YOU ARE WITH HIM
YOU CAN FEEL THE STARS BURNING IN YOUR STOMACH.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
YOU TEACH HIM THAT GRIEF HAS TO BE LET FREE
AND YOU WATCH AS HE TURNS INTO SOMEONE
YOU NO LONGER RECOGNISE,
HAPPIER, LIGHTER, SO FULL OF LIFE.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
THE BLADES ARE NO LONGER IN THE CABINET UNDER THE SINK
BUT AT THE DRUGSTORE IN PERFECT LITTLE PACKAGES WAITING TO BE BOUGHT.
HE DID NOT GIVE UP.

THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST.
YOU ARE NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU WERE ONCE.
HIS EYES SLOWLY GATHER MORE BAGGAGES AND
HE DOESN’T EVEN RECOGNISE HIMSELF
WHEN HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR
BECAUSE ALL THAT STARES BACK IS AN EMPTY SHELL.
HE FINALLY UNDERSTANDS WHAT YOU MEANT
WHEN YOU TOLD HIM THAT PEOPLE COULD LEAVE SCARS TOO
BECAUSE THERE IS ONE, KNUCKLE DEEP, IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS HEART
AND HE URGES HIS EYES TO START THE ENDLESS WAR
BUT INSTEAD HE STARTS TO SEE THE GALAXIES
AND THE STARS IN HIS EYES THAT YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH
SO TONIGHT HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE.
HE STARTS TO UNDERSTAND
THAT EVEN THOUGH OTHER PEOPLE CAN SHOW HIM
THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS,
IT ONLY DEPENDS ON HIM TO PICK UP THE BROKEN PIECES.

I don't think it is fair
how I romanticise a poem
about a boy who
broke my heart

My head consumes me
for a moment I don't think
that I am alright,
for a moment
I think of the dirt on the floor
realising that maybe they
are someone else's ashes.

How rude of us to step on them
how rude of me to believe
that I am more superior
simply because I am alive.

I gather my thoughts.
The dirt on the floor is not ashes.
It is my dignity.
***** and broken into pieces.

Insecure seeps in as I realize
my dignity is no longer with me.
I fall to the floor
head in my hand
and I welp,
hoping for someone to find me
someone to realise
that I am not alright.

But of course,
no one does.

It's 6:14 in the evening
and i'm sitting in
the corner of the toilet
finding it difficult to breathe.

It's 6:15 in the evening
and I'm thinking of ways
to make him show me he loves me
because he might need to.

It's 6:16 in the evening
and I'm staring at the little green dot
beside his name,
hoping a message will come.

It's 6:17 in the evening
and I should be studying
because lately,
my marks have been going down.

It's 6:18 in the evening
and I realize,
I'm tired of trying but I need him
and that keeps me going.

It's 6:19 in the evening
and I realized that
all I want to say is
that I'm not happy.

W.H.Y~

My mind rages
like a fire in a wooden house
as it tries to work out
why i feel so frustrated

My mind blossoms
like a flower on spring morning
as it tries to understand
why i am so happy

My mind goes on and on
and can't stop thinking
and I realised that it was all about you

It wasn't about your mysterious eyes
or your shy little personality,
all I was thinking of
was simply you.

As a whole.
Not as fragments.

It has been a while since
I have felt this way
and i finally know it means
I'm falling for you.

Even if your eyes haven't met mine
yet.

'If you break me
at least make it last'
I wrote when I was
in love with you.

Only now am I regretting
the time I spent to
get over you.

It lasted longer
than the aftermath
of a volcano.

It was as painful
as lighting yourself on fire
(the pain of my
breaking heart,
you made it last)

And now it's finally gone
the city is back to normal
the ashes has been blown away
and you, you no longer matter.

Now that I laid eyes on him.

I realised that there will
be bigger volcanoes
bigger fires and they will be
more worth it
than you ever will be.  

And I'm afraid.
I'm afraid that he'd break me
exactly like you did.
Then I realised,
it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Better to love and break
than never to love before.

how do you turn a heartbreak into poetry?

1. you let your overflowing emotions fill your abbys to the brim until all you can do left is pick up a pen and let the ink stain the pages with memories and thoughts.

2. you burn all the pictures (and all the gifts he has ever given you) with the fuel in your veins that has kept the flame in your heart burning for so long.

3. you replace your dreams with thoughts and you lay awake in your bed because sleeping means dreaming and it hurts too much to see him in your dreams.

4. you smile and pretend you have the whole world in your hands because you do, even if it is just an atom of it. it counts.

5. you pick up the broken pieces and stitch them back together with late night dreams and morning poetry (because no one else would bother to fix you)

Have you ever cared for someone so much that you don't even want a grain of sand to hurt them? You know you would sacrifice anything just to make sure only good days go their way.

This feeling is so alien to me and I can't help but feel like it is so wrong. I've never ever felt so selfless before. You mean the world to me and I do not mean it in the cliche lovey-dovey way. I love you the way a mother loves her son, the way a sister loves her brother, the way a husband loves his wife, the way a best friend loves another, the way a dog loves it's owner but I do not love you the way a girlfriend loves her boyfriend.

It's all new to me.
It's all you to me.

it sure felt a lot more like home

i remember the feeling
it felt better than home

the sound of laughter
and the smell of everything
made my body feel lighter

the anxiety left my body
the stress ceased to exist
walking up was easier
everyday just seemed
a little more happier

instead of counting the hours
till I left, I was counting
the hours I had left.

i remember i lost that feeling
the day i was leaving
sadness buried deep into my lungs
suffocating each breath until
i nearly gave up.

i wished that it was my home
but whatever i called home
had the power to **** me.

I'm the type of girl who feels a little too useless
who believes that everyone has to leave a mark.

I'm the type of girl who believes she must save everyone.

I was so busy trying to save someone else,
I forgot for a moment that I too could drown.

the weighing scale speaks to me
it is lying
i don't feel like this
i feel as though i have
twenty donkeys
thirty elephants on me.

two months ago
i would have been
perfectly happy feeling this way
but now that i've reached
it feels nothing like i imagined
and so much worst

my mother occasionally reminds me
that it is unfair to take your own life
because it is yours
and sometimes not
at the very same time

because you were made
from the same bones and flesh
as the thing
growing in your mother’s womb
and life didn’t start with you

it started with two people
in love
out of love
stupid
smart
careless
careful
and your life
sometimes belongs to you
and also sometimes
it belongs to them

my mother occasionally tells me
how tiring it was
to raise me as a child
because i wasn’t all peek-a-boo
and nursery rhymes

i was also sleepless nights
and endless tears
with a loud voice for screaming
and sometimes my life is mine
and sometimes it also isn’t

it belongs to two people
together
separated
dead
alive
happy
sad
and my life
is sometimes up to me
but also not up to me

and if it wasn’t up to me
to be brought into this world
why would it be up to me
to leave this world

and i know
that if i left this world
my parents would be more
disappointed than sad
because my mother
occasionally tells me
that it is unfair
to take my own life.

I have stopped writing poetry
a little after you left me
because I could no longer
find someone else
to paint metaphors
and shape similes.

I have stopped writing love poetry
two years after you left me
because i have been so devoid of emotion
that my abyss itself seems more than
just empty

but i still bleed poetry
i still choke on poetry
i still cry poetry
because the scars have left
but i still hurt

I wanted to write a poem
about the way you looked at me
but I didn't have any words
and I realised, with you,
there are never any words.

It is raining outside
and like the thunder
I had so much inside
it needed to go somewhere.

I wanted to smile at you
but my lips decided to freeze,
you were the ice age
that no one ever saw coming.

At what age
do we stop
making bubbles
with soap
when we bathe?

At what age
do we stop
fighting for
the last piece
of pizza?

At what age
do we stop
believing in
magic?

At what age
do we realize
happy endings
were only in
fairytales?

At what age
do we stop
holding our
parents hands
as we crossed
the road?

At what age
do we start
growing up?

Because I don't
want to grow up.

In this world we live in
countries celebrate and glorify
the accomplishment of
exceeding a cellphone's broadband.

I understand this means
the country is developing
but it also says a lot
about who we are now.

WHERE HAS HUMANITY GONE TO?

What happened to written letters
or sad goodbyes
with sloppy kisses
and a promise to never forget?

What happened to the urgency
to see someone after a long time
rather than see them online,
pretending they are here?

Where is the human warmth
in spending a dinner together
without a single person
touching their mobile phones?

WHAT HAPPENED TO HUMANITY?
WHY ARE WE CELEBRATING THIS?

As technology goes up,
humanity goes down.

I think you can say,
humanity is inversely proportioned
to technology.

‘My mother told me never to play with fire.’
My eyes looked into his eyes
and darted away just as fast.
His blue eyes however,
never left my direction
and I was getting a little shy.

‘Oh really. Not even like this?’
His lightly brushed my right arm
and that was when I felt the first spark.

It took little time for the spark to grow
and it spread like a hail fire,
burning every single thing in the way.

The spark in my heart was hotter
than the flames
or the fire
and the smokes suffocated my lungs.

Like all fires,
it got out of control
it left scars that
never healed
and haunted me
every time I thought
I felt a spark.

My mother told me never to play with her
but she didn’t warn me
about the sparks I feel in my heart.

I guess the only reason why
I grasped onto the dark side of you
was because that maybe
I didn’t really want to fall for you.

(not that I haven’t already fallen for you)

It was the only thing keeping my head above the water,
leaving me conscious to think.

W.H.Y~

Nice boys do not appear
in your classes and catch your attention
but bad boys do
and i'm not saying you were bad

but you kinda ruined my life.
kinda.

crammed in her eyes were tears
her gaze, never landing on me.
she knew what i was going to say.
she knew what i was going to do.

i know she loved me
widely and deeply
but i could never love her
ever quite the same way.

her eyes sparkled when she saw me
her lips curled when she looked away
but she was too scared of loosing me
and truthfully, a little mundane.

she smelt of my childhood
and tasted of utopia but
by the time i realised that
i knew it was ending.

she spoke of escape and things
that would never ever happen
she was a dreamer and all i want to be
is just her dream

that's all i'll ever be.
i think i broke her heart.

Honestly, I fear it
straight to my bones.

The fear of falling in love really
and knowing that a person
could so easily leave
pushes the very thought off my mind.

But we need some faith in humanity
and we need some faith in love
and I need some faith in you.