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I'm okay
I'm alright
I can still smile
I can still laugh

There's too much pain to handle
I just lose my self

I hope he loves you
more than I love you..
he is the kind of boy I want to write a book about
he always addresses me by my first and last name
as if I were someone of any sort of significance
he drinks and he drinks, and no one stops him
people flock to him just to listen to him tell
a painfully drawn-out joke that isn't even funny
but we still fall down laughing at the punch line
just because it was him in the spotlight
he walked up to a boy who he did not know
and he kissed him on the ******* mouth
and five minutes later he was crying on the boy
telling him about how he was sexually abused as a child
to say he is beautiful would be like saying
Mt Everest is just another hill on the horizon
I will never meet anyone like him again
but I do not fear I will forget him
he is the epitome unforgettable
he is the kind of boy I want to write a book about
his name is E. G.
 Oct 2013 lina marie
I tell you of the time I almost drowned in the sea, because I wanted to know the taste of salt and ocean freedom. I was young, foolish and curious; a combination that invited disaster merely by existing in the same spheres of thought. The ocean was warm that day, although I thought it would be icy cold. I swam out against the tide and current, closed my eyes and let the murky turquoise waves wash over me; then darkness. Even in the midst of my suffocation, the loosening grip of this world never scared me, only calmed me. I wondered how it would be like to sink to the bottom and find serenity, peace and tranquility, away from the glaring rays of the sun and the fears that remained on the surface.

I lived to tell the tale of course,
but I never forgot how the sea gave me death and life all at once.

You laugh, and say you're very glad I'm still alive.
I smile in return, because I am too; to be able to meet you.


I never tell you how you are now the ocean for me.

 Dec 2012 lina marie
W Heng
 Dec 2012 lina marie
W Heng
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.
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