My tongue is scoured
with acid from venomous words
I spit at you.

But it appears,
my aim is poor,
and the majority of
the venom
sinks back into my flesh.

They weave
into my bloodstreams
in the form of guilt,
guilt,
guilt,
until you become
the only thing
clouding my mind.

I am sick
of feeling responsible
for everything
I didn't do--
ignoring the things
I did.

I am imperfect
but so is love.

...For I am more than your inability to love me.

I wore my heart
on my sleeve last year
with a touch of agony
and the depth of despair
in hopes that you would
somehow love me.

But desperation,
I hear,
has a strong scent;
and when mixed
with fear--
and you could sense it
clinging onto my every
spluttered word,
every painted red lips
I hope you'd gaze upon;
the shadow of my eyelashes
imprinted in my cheeks
and the sweet delirium
of your voice;
a echo in the morning,
a whisper at night.

Today I remember
a year ago
how dearly I loved you
and loathed myself.

They wrap their arms
tightly around the other's
veined neck
clawing maniacally with
exposed teeth
and wild eyes.

a certificate;
their names as one,
ripped to shreds
but apparently
still valid.

and somehow,
when it's my turn,
I fantasise my arms
would lay limp
and his will, too.

But maybe
it's a glimmer of hope
of a candle in
interminable night--
wishful thinking.

Silly girl--
there is no romance
without menace.

Let me tell you about public buses
with their rolling wheels and upright seats
where the driver entraps in his own world
and as the passengers, we in ours;

but there's a strange occurrence
when strangers share the same seat--
suddenly, we are sensitive
to their slightest movement
the deepness of their breath
our legs touching slightly, sometimes
ramming together throughout
this epic journey.

then, it's our stop;
we are at the window seat, our eyes darting
outwards, with a speeded heart,
our eyes focus on our
impending bus stop.

but before our words form
the sounds, articulate the words,
this stranger has already shifted
with a smile.

"Thank you," you say, stunned,
wondering how they knew
your feelings.