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  Feb 2015 Eunice Amor Oh
IvyB Xx
"Poetry is proof that humans are capable of magic"
Eunice Amor Oh Jan 2015
i write poems and stories about you
that you'll never get to read*

but one day,
if you try hard enough
you'll read them through my tears,
see them beneath my scars
and feel them through the pieces that used to hold my heart

maybe then,
you'll bother to pick up my pieces
and glue them to yours
maybe then,
you'll let me keep some of yours for reading
maybe then,
you'll know that i've *loved
you more than even i can possibly bear
this isn't great; honestly its a mess but thats how i feel right now - a mess. forgive me for i can't put thoughts into words, it all seems too impalpable.
Eunice Amor Oh Jan 2015
just a door away
from the pain
the ache
and the terrible mistakes
that held u in chains

just a door away
from all the tears you
and the world that soon,
consumed you whole

just a door away
from your dreams and
the failures that could have kept them
(at least for a little longer)

just a door away
from what nobody imagined
you would do

and it was just the door
nobody opened
that became the one that
kept you hidden away

**when you let death and beauty
play a game
(( when we're all old and grey with nothing but regrets left in our insatiable minds, you'll forever be sixteen: and that's what terrifies me the most ))

how are we supposed to move on from here?
The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.

The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.
Eunice Amor Oh Dec 2014
i long for a love that i cannot reach and cannot hold
it is a love so far away from tangibility and from the dreams that keep me awake (yet asleep) at night
it binds me to nothing because nothing is all i can obtain
yet nothing is everything that means something to me:
nothing is everything that i cannot grasp within the tiny hands that have carved these thoughts for a lifetime
because the possibility of our love is as slim as a starving human
and as unfathomable as the thousands of stars that overwhelm me as i gaze up at them
what we have is truly inorganic, lifeless, tired to the bone
it is sterile and unfertilised, impossible to merely thrive or bloom,
burdensome like the words that have made me who i am today
and stagnant like the brain of a dead man rotting

in other words,
our love is and will never be a reality
because you are a masterpiece
and i'm a disaster

**(( still i long ))
( i cant even think straight anymore because the idea of you never seems to leave no matter how hard i try )
Eunice Amor Oh Dec 2014
it was a saturday night when i promised myself never to fall again because i knew it would only leave me scathed to the bone and lost in the desolated world that i had unnecessarily created in the past. i had come to the realisation that there was an inevitable slough of despond, waiting to pull me mercilessly into the black hole that i knew held a despicable love that i would refuse to ignore if i did not steer clear. though, steering clear was never my forte. instead, diving idiotically into cold waters without caution was where my roots stayed, in love with the fray of things. lost in my welter of thoughts, my little pandemonium, i dreamt of you and slowly tried to fathom how we ended. was it the loss of attraction, transient chemistry or the indubitable end that had already been set in stone? because all my life, i had tried so desperately to search for nonexistent formulas for why things ended, only to accept the fact that every thing was made to be ephemeral. stop, stop, just stop! my mind never failed to repeat, yet my heart failed to comply; my stream of consciousness always led back to you. i felt alone, pathetic, mawkish even, as i dialled your number with the dignity i no longer possessed. with each ring, i tried to stop the shivers down my spine that felt like a terrible ague, knowing that you had already given up on me, on us, and wanted nothing to do with me. you were obdurate on your decision, happy to move on.

but as for me? i remain that hideous book you indifferently hide on your shelf, in the shadows of your newfound lover.

(( yet, even now, that saturday night repeats itself every single day, the vicious cycle of an ancient spiel that i cannot seem to let go, because the thought of you coming back still remains, engrained into whatever pieces of my heart i have left. ))
Eunice Amor Oh Oct 2014
i don't want to fall in love
because i'd rather say that
love digs its hands deep into the dirt to plant its roots,
to give false hope to the weaklings of mankind that requite is truly attainable
that love lies in the tears of our galvanised hearts, attacking the cracks of our fissured craniums
reminding us of our (now) inexorable incarceration
that love creates waveforms between fragile persons, in its attempt to orchestrate some sort of perfect dissonance
that love declares 'i am in control' (and makes us believe so)
to toy with the pieces left of our already tortured souls.
and that love only breaks us whole,
when our holes were what broke us first
than say love was "made" for me and you
because to fall in love would mean
(onto your chest to remind me of what we had)
which would be a deathtrap on its own
one i would shamefully not regret
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