I
I can never tell
a lonelier story than the time
when I thought
Love was forever—
‘cos months after
I realized:
There was no love at all.

It was a dream;
Vague and sudden yet sometimes so clear
that I could almost see
the future for me.

That was brave—
so bold and uncompromising,
‘cos I gave it all
I’d swear, I gave it all.

It was when I lingered
on lonely poems
sitting:

unnoticed along the shelves—
undisturbed, just like a child
waiting to be taken home.

There I wept alone
my hands on lonely poems.


II
But that was
History for my first self—
wanting to be free
from her struggles.

and then I asked
unlike teenage girls
who love to fall in love:
Why do you still need more
after it had proved you wrong?

Right then I hammered
my heart that was turning
into stone—

tore away the pages
of that lonely poem.

I promised not to forget
how it felt when
it ***** my soul
and caged me like
a hyena:

talking, mimicking, without
identity;

Just another girl,
he hurts me.
Just another girl.

And now
I’ve lost track of memory
saved and clicked to
flicker on screen
to remind me of pain—

‘cos I saw a mirror once again
and then another cage and
guess what:
I wished to go there!

Though I know my would-be,
still I might plan to
start all over again,
so that one more poem may be written.