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Apr 2020 · 141
The Strip
W Heng Apr 2020
If I learn to turn off all the lights,
And return things where I found them,
And train to catch things as they fall,
(And then to not drop them at all)

If I learn to be so ever-loving,
Kind, not crude, not shoulder turning,
Predict the cuts that I could claw,
(And then not make the cuts at all)

If I learn to truly be content
And spend the days not feeling spent
Swallow resentment’s bitter call
(And forget bitterness forevermore)

If I learn to live outside myself
Learn to re-align myself,
Remove venom from my teeth-myself
Live a normal life myself
Begin to sanitise myself
Stop retreating to the dark, myself
Retract my knives and fists myself
Pull delusion from my eyes myself





Would I still be me at all?
May 2013 · 575
To the epilogue
W Heng May 2013
i am the insides of an open book
I am the pages that call out to you
I am the text that begs to be spoken
I am the story that does not exist until I am read
until I settle over your thoughts like a veil
until I enter your system like a truth serum
until I break you like fear
until I heal you like hope
until I become a part of you.

You are the perfect audience
you are the hands that run over my lines
you are the lips that bring my beauty to life
you are the one that returns after the end of every chapter
until you breathe my words like air
until you swear to never read another
until my truth becomes your guide
until my next page becomes your future

until we walk, palm on paper, to the epilogue.
Dec 2012 · 1.3k
goodnight
W Heng Dec 2012
I will turn to go now
And walk bravely into the light
To all my loves I bid adieu
To my reasons I bid goodnight

A selfish wish to which i'd both
Love & hate for you to agree:
That if I would ever look behind my back
You would linger on for me.

I will turn to go now
And walk bravely into the light
To my past, I thank you all
To you, I say goodbye.
Dec 2012 · 505
10 minutes
W Heng Dec 2012
I'll sing to the rhythm of your walk
As you write me a poem about my feet
Tell me stories of lost confessions
And how you love the back of my knees
Whisper above the thunder's cry
Tickle my earlobes with your breath
Confuse me with your good intentions
And gather all that is left.





Move with the sway of stupid wordplay
As i count our blessings on your finger tips
The only people who can hurt us are ourselves
It's rather sad, isn't it?
Dec 2012 · 1.2k
ache
W Heng Dec 2012
It's the unlocking of a heavy door,
To a past that is long dead;
The dead thump of a dropping heart,
The cold of an empty bed.
The slides and glides of cello strings,
That linger in the dark-
A shadow of a stolen kiss,
That has forever left its mark.
Those empty nights that sat draped in darkness,
Spent listening to the rain;
Cold and crying for hollow want,
Watching the sun die over and over again.
The cold of your fingers on the nape of my neck,
Salty waves dying on the shore;
Chapped lips left half-parted,
"I can't do this anymore."

Crusty edged, picture perfect,
Skies that left me broken hearted;
sun kissed skin and star lit eyes,
Wishing you had never started.
A familiar voice you thought you'd forgotten,
the missing harmony of an old song;
The acid that drips deep inside
When you realize you were wrong.
The leaks of honey on your chin,
The end of something good;
It's the guilty pleasure in midst of the pain
Of a sin you never should.
The words you never really meant,
Lay sweet, savoured, spent.
All you heart weighed in gold,
The dying breath of stories never told.

Whispered seductions calling out,
Begging you to close your eyes-
Unclench, exhale, surrender fast;
Release and say goodbye.

— The End —