eggshell on eggshell
together we are building a fort
towards futures on teetering edges
searching for places brighter than
anything we have ever known.

i am looking at you with eyes
that have been withered by smoke,
jaded and misguided, i fear the day
i think i've found my home because
knowing is the first step to the end
of anything beautiful.

i need to stop seeing you in my dreams, but it feels like the only way i can have that is if i stop dreaming -
completely.
how do you build a wall where imagination and reality coalesce
where the smoke materialises, but fades away
drawing the line between everything and nothing at all.

i want to backspace every moment that happened
rewrite every line of our story,
but i always get as far as that one chapter and then it
hurts too much to delete.
i am still bound.

you are all i can think about
and it hurts me
thinking about how beautifully perfect you are
in your unpolished image
as you go about your daily life
not knowing that someone out there
looks at you as the gleam of a dark earth
radiant and potent
and it hurts me more
to know that i am completely undeserving
of anything more that i hope for
but it's alright.
you deserve nothing but the best
and if this is what love is,
i will let you go
reluctantly but with heart.
(you were never mine to begin with)

i am trying not to think about
your gentle voice, your soft touch,
the first day you met me:
i felt your eyes, fixed on me as i
tried to sing in harmony.
did you know, then, that i would come to mean this much to you
and you, me?
in the split second our eyes met
i daresay i felt - something.
i'm still trying not to think about ***.

you know that i'm the type to believe
in how everything happens for a reason and
there is a reason why you are there and i am here.
five months went by in a whirlwind,
and where we were picked up we've ended up
apart, again.
four years and a heartbeat later,
who knows where we'll be?

a reason, a reason, a reason.
you be the logic, i'll be the heart.
but somewhere further down, i know you have it too.
maybe even a bit too much, shrouded in the mystery that is
hidden behind the fortress you have built up around yourself.
i tried to break it down but you always said, "in time".
time, indeed, is what we have.
but time itself does not breed answers
for the answers themselves have already been bred.

and in that everything does happen for a reason -
maybe this is what we're meant to be.
i do wish that life wouldn't be so cruel but
i suppose life has its redeeming qualities too.
(anyway, i guess i kind of like where we are.
i'd rather have this than nothing at all,
and i've never really been one for risk-taking.)
we are the paths we choose to take
and i'll walk with you, down every road
because she may have been with you through your worst,
but everything is relative.
capacity doesn't mean anything;
for as someone once said,
it's the heart that really matters in the end.

i wish i was the girl you wrote poetry about. the girl that appears in your dreams and lingers a moment too long, and disappears a moment too soon.
you’d wake up in the morning feeling like something’s missing, with a small hole in your heart that’s wide enough for you to know it’s there but not wide enough to hurt. you will still get out of bed, and go on with life.

sometimes i wish i was the girl you felt sad about. the one where bad timing stood in the way and you blamed it on the workings of the universe but it simply meant that you weren’t meant to be. you wished it was, though - and so do i.

i wish you thought of me in the back of your mind. while you are walking on the roadside, maybe while taking a smoke. i wish the possibility would be as real as it was when we are drunk, because it seems like the only time we can truly acknowledge these feelings are when we aren’t quite ourselves. (isn’t that quite ironic?)

i wish you would love me, but i know enough to know that love is not enough.

but as much as i would love to be this girl, i don’t think i want to be her if it means making you sad. if it distracts you from looking at the beauty of what’s in front of you, if it leaves an empty space in your heart. i want you to have a full heart.

these past few days; weeks
have been filled with nothing but little talks:
talks about the future, where we're going to be,
how we're going to be, who we're going to be.
everyone says that my future is bright but all i see is
a black hole. people say their future is bleak
but all i see are stars in the night sky, defying
olbers' paradox.

you and i lost ourselves somewhere along the way.
through the fire, the flames and
the winding tumultuous roads that led us
to a future we once believed was possible,
now the roads are winding down.
but maybe we are tributaries in a river;
holding on to the belief that one day,
you and i will converge once again
in a confluence downstream, where we will
flow to the sea, into the end of time.
i'll see you on the other side,
i'll see you where our rivers meet,
and i'll see you in the sunset
and maybe you will ask me why the sun
changes colour in different times of the day
once again.

i am a wave that never reaches the shore,
for i break too soon before the land.
but i've always liked the look of sand:
golden, the colour of dreams, where shells that
hide secrets in them lie; secrets i would like to know.
sometimes they whisper in my ear,
but i never quite get to hear them as they are
swept away faster than they can say goodbye.
maybe one day i'll get there, and i will listen to the
stories they tell. to know how it feels to have reached
the shore, basking in the goldenness of sand, the sun.
but i am not like them.
maybe i will never know.

just a few weeks ago the future was to me a
faceless mass of mist, reality seemed to be shrouded, clouded -
the uncertainty; i can't say i like it
(i am forever straddling the line between ignorance and truth)
but i must say it provides a sense of comfort; a sense of peace.
it's the knowing that anything can happen, possibility -
truly, ignorance is bliss - it's like a pillow upon which you rest your
unknowing head; a blanket which shields you from reality.
but in it's own familiar way, reality breeds security.
the irony! to be secure yet so fearful,
to crave the freedom of choice yet to wish for predetermination,
a twisted security in infinite obscurity.

ever so often, so occasionally
i find myself slipping comfortably
back into my little retreat, a shell
in which i have come to call home.
i call out to you to come and join me,
you don’t listen. i am screaming, but you
can’t hear me. it is as if i am a hollow vessel
and an empty head. i am always wishing that
i could be more than what i am but this is all
that i can give. and so i retreat for i would rather
give nothing at all than to give something that is
destined to fail, because why shoot for the stars when you know you are simply going to fall back to earth?

the grass is always greener on the other side -
or so they say. but when you’ve been to the other side,
and you’ve felt what it’s like to be there,
you can’t help but wish you were from the other side.
i’ve forgotten the days i used to feel like i had
people who didn’t hold a knife to the small of my back
all the time, i’ve almost forgotten the last time i was truly happy.
sometimes, though, i wish i’d forget - maybe it would be easier
not to know, maybe it would be easier to be content with
todays. but today is today, and i am trapped
(or so it feels), and will continue to be for a month and a day.

maybe it was the best mistake of your life,
maybe it wasn't even a mistake at all.
whatever it is, i hope you felt it was worth it,
for the ache in my stomach still gnaws at me from
time to time, and the holes in my heart have
yet to be stitched up completely.

for what it was worth, i thought we could've been
spectacular if only we had (you had) the bravery to
try.

eggshell on eggshell
together we are building a fort
towards futures on teetering edges
searching for places brighter than
anything we have ever known.

i am looking at you with eyes
that have been withered by smoke,
jaded and misguided, i fear the day
i think i've found my home because
knowing is the first step to the end
of anything beautiful.

i’ve kept your letters stored in a box, labelled
'reasons why you should never trust people
even when their actions match their words’
and i open them every once in a while, to remember
the reason why i let myself go in the pursuit
of something better, something better
(which i thought was real happiness until i realised,
a world without trust is a very, dark place.)
but a world with empty words and meaningless
promises is equally dark, and a world in which
you were no longer by my side was the darkest
world of all.

you are cigarette sticks just lit,
you are a fresh wound on an old stitch.
a disorder spun out of control,
watching as madness takes hold - clutch
breaks - what happens next - your
life begins to unfold. creases form like
scars that never quite leave, mistakes
we break, we drown and we bleed.
i can't live without them is the greatest
lie: love kills you from the inside out,
toxic chemicals rampage fire through
your veins: hooked, hooked, hooked
lined and sunk; funny how we continue
to live with it only because we die with it.

what people don't and will never understand is
when your chest tightens and you find it hard to breathe
and it hits you like a breaking wave:
the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness; but the wave
was devoid of water or any physical composition.
still, somehow, water, from your eyes, drips out like a broken tap -
your cheeks are too numb to feel it.
no alarm, no signal, no call to tell you that
the roller coaster's carriage is on its way,
to warn you that it is about to pick you up,
playing you like a child who just learnt to throw paper aeroplanes.
binge - bruise - cut - bruise - binge - cut
numb to any sensation and devoid of feeling

the roller coaster comes to an end eventually.
yet the guilt of the aftermath stays -
but there is, a temporary moment of solace in the waiting -
until it comes again.

then
i watched as they, two lips, touched
and two lovers hugged, a warm embrace.
i had never quite seen anything like it before.
they touched again. maybe i'm too young for this.
should i be covering my eyes? mommy, tell me what
to do. tell me what i am supposed to do when
i am surrounded by people; yet i feel so alone. where
did all my friends go? i wish we could play
like we used to, in the sandbox after school with
swings and birds would fly around us. the grass would
be green and i might pluck a flower for that girl i like.

now
i can't remember her name anymore and the birds don't
quite fly like they used to. the sandbox has been soaked through
and i can't run around in there now. no one is around anymore -
i thought i would feel more alive on my own - i still feel alone.
i saw the two lovers the other day. they walked with a distance
between them, friction that burned once you got too close.
i don't know how things fall apart this easily or why they do,
do people simply stop trying over time or does friction grow and
burn away everything that is beautiful, because everything is supposed
to be pain and hurt? anything that truly lives is bound to die, and
anything that doesn't is dead inside anyway - but why can't we simply
be allowed to live a little? why does god have to let us hurt so much
inside?

i.
you never told me about her but i've never needed to know.

ii.
i'm reaching for your hands but they aren't reaching back.

iii.
i called out for you in the dark but you didn't respond.

iv.
i'm counting the days until we can be alone together again but it will be months until then.

v.
you told me about how orion's belt reminded you of me but all i could think about was your lips on mine and the sound of your heart beating as i press my ear against your chest, breathing you in.

vi.
(i looked up at the sky tonight and saw orion's belt, and thought of you, too.)

i've always found sadness much easier to write about;
it has always felt easier to translate those feelings into
words, it feels more poetic-sounding to me.
but you, my dear, have planted sunflowers where
there used to be weeds and now a
garden grows in my lungs but the vines don't choke me,
the way i thought they always would.

you told me that you would always be here to listen to me
but there you are and here i am,
drawing nebula and counting items on my room wall,
just to keep myself sane.
just to keep myself from drawing yet
another line on my wrists; to keep me from
painting my skin black and painting this city state
red, crimson, scarlet, violet,
a myriad of colours that would shock and scare.
but it would only be temporary
for in a matter of months, many would forget
and few would still care.

my heart's a goner and so's my head.
for you, I've died a thousand times over
and over again.

today you are another year older and
tomorrow we will be further apart than before and
i have nothing left to say to you but that
yesterday i have loved you and
today i will love you still and
tomorrow i will still be chasing you from the stars and
believing that in a parallel universe is
where we truly are

2nd quarter: you brought me to places i had never been and introduced me to a world i had never known before. you taught me about heights and i learned to trust you as i fall. you showed me the depths of a world that i had heard of; but never quite knew of its existence - until i met you. you showed me the breadth of the universe and showed me just how far the horizon could go.

and the places you took me, i could never go back and
i have never been back since.
the last time i tried, i got so overwhelmed that i had to sit down and curl myself up, contracting my muscles, reminding myself,
you/ are/ stronger/ than/ this
but that did not stop my melancholic self from the innate desire to drown myself in a bottle of whiskey;
even with my father just centimetres away.


1st quarter: it's time you stopped fearing, and learned to let go. for the places that once held these memories will eventually lose their vile allure; and the minute you let go is the moment the hold that the past has over you vanishes. and maybe you will go to these places once again and think of the days you spent there, and realise that you feel nothing at all. you are not desensitised. you are no longer controlled by your past. you are free.

embrace it.

pick up that blade (right there)
and hurt me
cut your name across my skin (right here)
(remember to)
make it deep, make it count for
something other than what we
never could have been.
and i will look at the scars
and remember you forever until they
begin to heal and fade
just like the way you had said
"forever"
before you ran away.

fall in love with the cycles of the seasons.
the way that the only constant is change
and the way there is always,
always something to look forward to with each season
and how before you know it,
you have made one orbit around the sun.

and this time when i see you again,
i won't be sure what to think
or how to react or even what to
say to you after one long month of
crafting the perfect words that i will say for
i might just end up painfully
tongue tied and i won't lie -
i'm just preparing myself for
disappointment by my own hand.
or maybe by yours, but
i can be sure that
it will be nothing like the tearful
meeting that i had envisioned
one month ago.

we are all rocks. we are built up over many years, influenced by our surroundings as we weather and erode as part of the conditions we are subjected to - the trials that we are put through. we are compressed by the weight of heavy loads. we will be weighed down by our heavy hearts, and crushed by forces of the universe that are bigger than us. we are made up of many sediments, fragments of other rocks. the influence of others. we are the composition of everyone whom we've met, and their impact on our lives. some people leave larger pieces of sediment, while some are smaller than a tiny grain of sand. but they make us who we are today. and we never die. we live on for millions of years, you and me - these rocks are the physical imprints of our spiritual souls on the earth, because everyone affects something in one way or the other. we may not believe it, but believe this: we have the power to change the world - just by being here. we are a part of the bigger picture, a series of rocks that make up part of human history. wherever you go, you will have made your mark. be it just a tiny dent in the soil, or a boulder that fell from a mountain - realise that things would be different if you had not been what you are and gone where you've been.

i will light up with a voltage that will shock the room
my smile will be worth more than a billion dollars
the sun will shine even brighter than before and
on the other side, the moon and stars will dance
in perfect harmony, the way we shall be together once again
and i might hold your hand
shyly, although i have never done so before
because i want my actions to show you what
words cannot convey.

time
is never on anybody's side
it is the champion of the undisputed race
as no matter how you try to
buy it, **** it, or beat it
it always wins in the end

you run, run as fast as you can
trying to capture the blue skies along the way
not really getting anything -
why do we even run a losing race? (always?)
who ever created the concept of time?
why is it dictated that time be measured in
seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years -
because they don't mean anything
why can't we measure time in moments:
after all, each person has their own concept of time
as such; time means a different thing to us all
and don't you see? we are just running a race
we don't even understand.

time runs like the upper course of a river;
vicious, majestic,
and we run with it, trying to hold as much
of its water while we can
but you can only hold a little in your hands
before it slips away
but sometimes, it leaves behind traces
of rocks, sediment, sand
and these are the moments; hold on to it
because they too, will slip away
and is lost forever.

so,
stop running then, you'd say
but if you do, every moment is a lost one -
and i guess although we are running a losing battle
we can still try to hold as much water as we can in the meantime
who knows, we might catch a diamond
in the river's load.
it is a (treasure it).
but what do you do,
when you run against a river
that is running dry?

a moment so fragile, so precious, so rare
that when you try to put it into words
even the most beautiful words fail you.
heaving shoulders heavy hearts
shaky breathing comforting arms
squid-shaped clouds against a gradient sky
tired eyes that close to let yourself fall apart.
pinky promises stay strong
something bigger than the both of us
looms,
but for now i think i could spend forever in your arms

contextually inappropriate but i felt the need to pen this down
it felt like something bigger
i am afraid of the deflation
please don't leave me empty again

15/5

maybe one day you will talk to me again
and i will stare blankly at you, confused
you will then say that you're "sorry"
and maybe explain why you did what you did
i will continue to look at you, confused
and know that you are not the person
whom you once were, or that i thought you were
and i will feel upset, for a little while
until i remember that you were the one who broke something beautiful
and stopped answering your phone
the one i used to say goodnight to isn't here anymore, no -
and i don't think he'll be coming home.