You and I
Wove a beutiful tapestry
all the right colors
in all the right places
but there is this red string
of lie
that got woven in
unseen by me
and when I saw it
and pulled it
the whole tapestry
fell apart.

And part of me
wants to weave it
right back
from the start.

I thought you were true.
Now I can't trust you.

I thought you were true.
Now I can't trust you.

It is 11:59 PM
and I wanted to write you a poem
but all I have are feelings
I guess I'm at a loss for words.

When I was 14
I wanted to die
and as I sat silent in my room
no longer crying
with the blade in my hand
on my wrist
I wasn't bothered by the fact
that I didn't write a note
to say how I feel
to blame everyone for my decision
to say my final goodbyes.

I didn't bother.
I was so sure they wouldn't care
wouldn't notice
wouldn't mind.

I'm almost 20 now
and I am still sure.
No one would notice.
No one would care.
No one would mind.

And unlike 6 years ago.
No one is with me
to stop me now.

A sudden remembering.
Flashbacks.
I was sick.
Tired.
It was raining.
I needed to rest
at least 15 minutes.
Sat at a table
in the food court.
Zoning out.
Then suddenly,
a memory...
of you sitting
in front of me
uninvited
unwanted.
Whispering words.
I remember the fear
and the annoyance
of feeling threatened
in a public place
without anyone
noticing.
It was always like this.
To the world you were
"Innocent"
Everything fine.
They knew you as jolly
Harmless
Fun.
They didn't hear
the malice,
they didn't taste
the venom
in all the words
you hissed
while smiling
at people
passing by
Pretending
everything's alright.
But it's not.
You were killing me
slowly
silently.
Harsh lashes
from your tongue,
vicious grips,
murmured threats.
They didn't see...
You were poisoning me.
Injecting fear,
Loneliness,
Rejection,
Insecurity
in my bloodstream.
Making me inhale
fumes of your
Judgment
and Hate.
Hiss...
like a snake.
You traitor!
You sneak!
They didn't hear.
They didn't see
what you did to me.
They couldn't
Wouldn't
ever
understand.
They didn't feel
your vice-like grips.
Didn't flinch
when you almost hit [me]
Didn't break
down
fall apart
when you called me
*****
*****
****.
Not good enough.

I TRUSTED YOU.
I trusted you
to love me.
You lied.
I died.

But watch me
Rise.

Last night
was crazy. Wasn't it?
So crazy I had to
turn myself on auto-pilot
to be able to function properly.
And our conversation
last night
was something worthy
of spoken word poetry.
And it was so raw
with honesty.
And I realized that what I wanted
was not to un-love you.
What I wanted was to know
that you are okay with the fact
that I do.
And you took me by surprise
by going on auto-pilot too.
And I will stay.
I am here.
And I rest on the fact that you you will stay too.
You are there.
And that we will always find a way
to stay.
And you said it yourself.
I was amazed too
by the fact that not even the deepest
controversial issues
can stop us from enjoying conversation
with each other.
Darling I guess
that is just how we roll.

If you are reading this
get off my HelloPoetry page.
No. Just kidding. Please stay.
I love you.
And I want to thank you.
For letting me bother you that hot sunmer afternoon
while I was bored in the province.
And for talking to me everyday
after that day.
Thank you for being there
to encourage me
and for bringing out the best in me.
Thank you for believing in me.
Trusting me.
Thank you for wanting to protect me and take care of me.
Thank you for telling me I am enough.
For making me feel loved.
And accepted.
Thank you for not judging me.
For not rejecting me.
This isn't poetic at all.
But it is for you. :)

You and I, we play a dance.
For the past seventy-six days
we've come to know the steps
and learned to move to a beat
that only the two of us
seems to understand.

It doesn't matter
who texts "Good morning" first
or who starts what conversation
or who chooses the topic.
It doesn't matter
if we just sit in silence
comfortable in each other's thoughts,
"Talking" through telepathy.
It doesn't matter
that we can talk about the deepest
issues of our hearts
of our pasts,
one moment
then we start talking about
the most random,
borderline nonsensical,
often impossible and fictional
thought experiment kinds of stuff.

But it does matter
that we say "Good night"
and that often, we choose to sleep
at the same time.
It does matter
that we stay up late
as long as the other person
still has some rant he or she
has to say.
It matters
that we listen
and speak with honesty.
It matters
that you hold open doors for me.
It matters
that we show up early--
earlier than the time we agreed on.
That is something natural to me--
I hate being late.
But it matters
that you have never been late yet
to all our "dates"--
it matters because
you told me
you were always late.
It matters.
It matters to me
because, DT,
I love you.
I've chosen to love you.
But for now it matters
that I keep silent
because you are not ready.
It matters.
You matter to me.

I can't deny it anymore.
I am in love with you.
I didn't fall mind you.
I chose this.
I chose you.
And I can't help but feel
that I have chosen wrong.
That I have chosen too soon.

And it didn't help
that you chose me as your beta.
As your apprentice.
As your most trusted photographer.
Didn't help
that you nursed
all of my fangirl tendencies.
Didn't help that you claimed
to be my alpha,
my coach,
my captain.
Didn't help that you made me feel
like it is just the two of us in the pack.
Didn't help that you
verbalized my feelings
and told me
there is only us in the crew.
That I am your first mate.
The co-captain of a ship
That only the two of us can set sail.

The only thing is...
I am the only one shipping us.
And one day, you'll go canon
with someone else.
And believe me darling,
those canons can sink our ship.

Your choice of words,
And how you say it,
Can make or break my day.
But you know that.

You never grasped the fact
The reason
Why you, singing that song
meant a lot to me.

So I will put this plainly.
You are my home.
But ironically,
You are my north too.
And it is my heart...
If my heart is a compass
It would definitely always point to you.

My heart is just
another guitar for you to fix.

Look in the mirror.
What do you see?
I see a girl smiling back at me.
With sad, tired eyes
that screams of insecurity.
I see who I am
And in the reflection, I realized
I do not like what I see.
I see a wretched being
with a scarred past,
full of lies and lust,
and grief and anger,
and sorrow and distrust,
and wounds
that never healed fast.
I see a liar,
a cheat,
a master manipulator,
people-pleaser,
pretender,
a great actor,
putting up
a sweet,
gentle,
soft-spoken,
prim and proper front,
but living the life
of a desperate
******* by the well.
A scarlet letter in disguise.
Present day Magdalene.
Tamar,
ravaged,
broken,
defiled,
bruised,
bleeding,
de­ad.
Worthless.
Wearing a mask of a strong warrior,
everything alright.
Silver tongue,
knows all the right words
and how to say them.
But behind the mask
is a broken,
scared little girl
too conscious of her glaring,
blazing,
flashing neon light,
flaws:
ugly,
fat,
unworthy,
undeserving,
disgraced.
I see an ungrateful woman
given grace,
only to rebel
again
for the hundredth time.
I hung my head and closed my eyes,
shame creeping in my heart.
I heard my reflection call my name.
"Look up.
Look at me once again."
And I did.
Because there is something
about the voice,
something so gentle,
so compelling,
so attractive,
and warm
that I couldn't resist
but follow it.
A tender voice full of love.
A voice that made me feel
known,
fully known,
and still accepted.
A voice so full of love
it quieted the shame.
I looked up
and saw myself.
Basked in a glorious light
that isn't mine.
Shining so bright.
Radiating beauty
that didn't come from me.
I saw myself
clothed in white,
pure and holy,
and pleasing to the eyes.
No longer a wraith.
I looked
and saw myself
through my Savior's eyes:
a princess,
a royal priesthood,
a bride,
a daughter,
a warrior.
Chosen and cleansed.
I looked and saw myself
but the face on the mirror
was my Savior's face.
It was His beauty I radiated,
His light I shone.
He exposed my flaws
and revealed that in Him
I am a new creation.
I am a new creation.
Even if I don't see it sometimes,
I am a new creation.

I didn't expect you
to go where I was staying
while waiting for people to come out.
You said hello
and it took all the courage inside
to say hello
as if my heart is not doing
a sommersault.

We hung out again today
and had a good laugh
over sushi and coffee
and I tried to absorb as much as I
could take in:
your eyes,
the way your lips move when you speak,
laugh,
smile.
The way you run your hands
through your hair
every three minutes.
The way your hands
move with your stories,
always knowing the right gestures.
How you would hold open the door and stand back a little
so I could enter first.
The little valley
on the space between your eyebrows
that forms when you zone out.
How much sugar you put
in your coffee.
How lightly you touch me
when you tap my shoulder.
How you walk.
I drink you in,
Every small and big detail I could.

I also notice the differences
that has taken place
over the course of our friendship.
We are more relaxed,
more open
even in discussing
the deeper parts of our lives.
You are more honest,
less guarded,
more willing to show me
your flaws.
And I drink you in,
as much as I could.

I noticed how lately
our minds are in sync,
and we start saying the same things
at the same time.
We finish each other's
sentences and thoughts.
And we both relax at the same time
knowing when to pause.
How we match each other's pace
when walking
and how we know
what the other is thinking.
And it took a lot
of self control
to remind myself
not to hope too much.

But I'd be lying
if I said I wasn't.

Hey daddy,
can you hear me?
I miss you.
It has been a hard
Two years
without you.
I really miss you.
It is Fathers' Day tomorrow.
I remember the last
Fathers' Day
that you were alive--
I didn't greet you.
We had a fight
and I was the stubborn
selfish child.
I thought I was right.
But now, two years too late
I realize I was not.
I am sorry.
I miss you.
I miss your hearty laugh,
your warm hugs,
I miss you waking me up
by tickling my foot--
I remember being annoyed
when you wake me up that way.
What would I not give
to have you wake me up
again?
I miss you calling me
to eat breakfast
before going to school.
I miss you doing the laundry
even if I am a big girl
already.
I miss you.
I miss the days when you
would drive me to school
and fetch me at 5pm.
Back then I wished you wouldn't
so I could spend more time
with my then-boyfriend.
What would I not give, daddy,
to have you pick me up
from school
once again?
I miss your silly ways
of making noise
during New Year's Eve.
For the past two years daddy,
my New Years were quiet
silent
dead.
Like you.
The last New Year's eve
you were alive,
the New Year's eve
the year before you died
you were drunk
and I welcomed 2013
feeling so lonely
with mom in UAE
and you, on the couch
too passed out to wake up
amidst all the noise.
Somehow, I knew
the next New Years won't be the same
I didn't expect
that it would because
they would be spent without you.
I miss you telling me you love me
and all those kisses
that used to really annoy me.
I miss you.

I am sorry.
For being a failure.
For being a bad daughter.
Sorry if I chose that guy
that *******
over you.
Sorry that I didn't listen.
I thought I was right.
I had so much pride.
What would I not give, daddy,
to have you here right now?
I promise, this time I would choose
you.
I would choose
to listen.
I would choose
to love you.
I would choose
to swallow my pride.
I would choose...

I wish I could turn back time
love you a little better.
I'd go back further than the day you died.
I'd go back to the time
when our family was whole
I would do whatever it takes
to keep it that way.
So that you won't have to be a drunkard
because you have broken your heart.
I'd go back, daddy.
I would go back and fix you if I could.

I am turning 20 in three months now.
Remember your promise to me?
It is two years overdue daddy.
I turned 18 without you.
You promised...
You promised we would dance
with or without a party
you said you wouldn't miss the chance
to dance with me.
I was waiting daddy.
But you never visited me
not even in my dreams.
It has been two years daddy.
I wouldn't mind having a dance at 20.
What would I not give daddy?
What would I not give
to dance with you
one last time...
Like we did when I was 7.
Ironic because
you said not to choose
Dance With My Father
as a song to dance to
with you
because you are not dead yet.
But now you are.
And I miss you so much.

I love you daddy
I am sorry.

You sing me to sleep
with stories
so creative
and active.

You sing me to sleep
with encouragements
and compliments
that drip
with sincerity.

You sing me to sleep
with sincere words
and gentle reminders
that I am loved
and I am worth it.

You sing me to sleep
with an assurance
that I am likable
and I am enough
and that tomorrow
I will wake up
still loved
because I have you.

You sing me to sleep
secured in the fact
that you are there
and you care for me.

You sing me to sleep
by quieting my fears
hushing my insecurities
speaking life to me.

You sing me to sleep
by reminding me
I am not alone
I never have to be.

You sing me to sleep
by pointing out
that I have a God
who loves me
and I have you
who looks out for me.

You sing me to sleep
by showing me
the difference
between being exposed
and being known
and letting me know
that with you
I am known.

You sing me to sleep
at bad nights
when memories crawl
beneath my sheets
penetrating my lungs
flooding my veins with fear
strangling the breath out of me--
you whisper gentle reminders
of who I am
until I calm down
you make sure to stay up
until I can fall back to sleep
you are there for me
you are true to your promise.

You sing me to sleep
that is why I told you
you are
and you remain to be
my sweetest lullaby.

Why do you only see
what is wrong
what is bad
what is kulang
What is sobra
in me?

Lately you look at me
in a negative light
all the time
and you are one to preach
to not tag other people
to bully someone
calling it cyber-bullying
when it was friendly
conversation
I didn't tag strangers
to humiliate
I tagged friends.
But remember when
you raised your voice at me
in a public place?
I was humiliated
too...
by you.

Lately you have been
so critical of me
and I appreciate
that you notice me
but really
stop pushing
your convictions
to me
or to everyone

Remember grace
correct and restore
I received correction
but no restoration

You push me away
then pull me close
and you reject me
and tell me you miss me
and act liek nothing is wrong
and share random stuff one moment
not talk to me for days next
and somehow
in this push-pull friendship of ours
everytime you come back
after hurting me for days,
weeks, sometimes months on end
everytime you talk sweet to me
after harsh words
everytime you pretend
like everything is cool
and nothing happened
and you didn't hurt me
brushing it off as bad mood,
bad day,
bad timing.
everytime you bounce back
i get annoyed with the fact
that i don't even pretend to be okay.
that it really is okay
all that matters at the moment is we are friends again
and you are talking to me again
and i can't not care
and i can't shut you off
the way you shut me off.
i guess this is what it means
to love the unlovable.

But i really care
and i really love you.

You and I
we are much a like
do you know
how pack animals live?
An alpha is the head of the pack
he makes sure everyone
is okay and alive.
But when a wolf is separated
from his pack
he becomes an omega--
a lone wolf
and omegas are very vulnerable
and lonely.
They are the wolves
typically depicted
howling at the moon
crying out for help
"I am alone.
I don't want to be alone anymore."

You and I
we are much alike
two omegas
howling at the moon.
We heard each other's cries.
And when two omegas meet
they become a pack on their own.

"We're not alone anymore."

You are my alpha.
And I still smile
everytime I remember
what you said.

"I'll let you meet my friends."
you said out of the blue
"Why?"
I asked you.

"Remember when I said,
it is just the two of us?
Well. It is time to meet the pack."

But I was scared.
What if you find out
that I am not really a wolf.

What if you knew
that I was a fox
all along?

I still see your smile
when I close my eyes

I write you
all these poems
wanting to give them all
to you.
But I hold them back
and keep them
for the time being
because you are not ready.

But sometimes I wonder,
do you secretly write
songs about me
the way I not-so-secretly write
poems about you?

Hey darling
Don't you know I'm a diary?
I keep track of dates
And events
And words spoken
And promises given.
I catalogue them neatly
Inside my heart
And pull them out
Every now and then
"Remember when you said
You will never leave?
Where are you now?"
Just to remind you
And myself
Not all promises
Are realized
Not all words
Are real
Not all significant events
Remain significant.

And not everything I remember
Will remain unforgotten.
You forgot.
You forget all the time.

Hello...
It's been a long time
Since we last talked on the phone.
And it feels like our friendship
Hangs on a thread
And I don't like this at all.

Ring... Ring... Ring...
Click.
You used to answer at third ring.
Sometimes you'll even
Pick up before that first
Riiing...
Now I am afraid to call you
On my lonely walk home
Because, I know you knew
My fear of rejection
And lately
You've been rejecting my calls.

But I miss your voice
And those late night calls
And not feeling so lonely
While walking home
Because we share a virtual reality:
A third space for just you and me
On the phone
And we don't have that
Anymore.
What's wrong?

You are who jumpstarts
And completes my day
And I love how
You wake my heart up
With a simple "Good morning"
And "Hey."

You are who soothes my nerves
And calms my mind
In the morning.
You are the warmth
That I seek
When it starts raining.
And you will always be
Like my favorite drink
When I am happy, down,
Or when I can't think.

I think...
I think I love you
The way that I love coffee.
Doesn't matter if it is hot, warm,
Iced, blended, with milk, without,
Sweet, pure, brown, black, bitter,
With chocolate or raspberry,
Single or double shot,
Even decaf.
It doesn't matter.
I love coffee because
It is coffee.
And [I think], I love you...
Because you are you.

You have good days and bad days.
And days when you lose control.
You are generally sweet and gentle and funny
But there are days
When your patience wears thin
And I see that a lot with you.
You have an active mind
And a creativity of a five-year-old
Your stories blow my mind
And are out of this world.
Yet there are days when
Your stories are sad.
And I still love you for that.
You are caring and protective of me
And loving and genuine and sincere
But sometimes you lie
And sometimes you hide
And your fear of questions, and your paranoia
Kind of offends me.
And even in days when you could be
Like a ticking time bomb
Waiting to explode
About to lose control
Believe me, it doesn't matter.
I am willing to take the blow
And I would try to defuse you.
But even if you hurt me
I think...
I know...
I would still love you.

Because you don't love coffee
Only when it is sweet.
Or creamy.
You love coffee if you get to appreciate it
In all its bitter glory.
And I want you to know...
I want to see the best
And the worst parts of you.
And I know...
Even then
I will still love you.

But I have to remind myself
To take it easy.
Because I might burn my lips
And my tongue
From your intensity.
But even then...
Though it hurts.
I will still be able to enjoy you.
I know...
I have been burned by coffee too.