It's on nights like this I miss you,
Fingers glued to the phone, waiting to text you,
You are on my contact list, but there's an issue,
We don't talk anymore, so there's no way to get through,

It's on a night like this I kissed you.

We don't talk anymore, so I can't get through,
You are on my contact list, but we've got issues,
Fingers glued to the phone, hoping to text you,
That it's on nights like this I hopelessly miss you.

after he read my poetry online
in the darkest café while drinking wild wine
he copied the full title of mine poetry
“Saddest about the poverty nowadays”
and instantly emailed me,
that I started talking about politics

I thought he could read poetry
but….I was mistaken

my loved one never knew
the alienating appearance of this blind male

I wrote about true poetry and its poverty
he associated with politics
once again here I repeat my last poem’s title
“Saddest about the poverty nowadays”

his unwanted eyes are peeping constantly
copying my poem, the constant liar

he read mine poetry
I wrote about the poverty
instantly he started shouting about politics
just like this male person

he has that poverty I have in mind
about vocabulary, grammar, and all that kind
I thought he could read poetry
I was mistaken

he was peeping constantly
at mine poetry
I wrote about words, nouns
the present and the past
and all the tenses
it pained all my senses

when he accused me of politics
of yelling at innocent persons
shouting at innocent poets

not mine strife in this forsaken life
I am suffering from pain
restrained

I thought he was clever
I am now mistaken forever

do you wish to know who is he?
a constant stalker, an insane talker
alienate appearance


© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected

the devil goes doorknocking:

"hello, sir! would you like to sign up fo-.."

i shut the door in his face. which, by some freak accident or other, is red red red.

i made a mistake.
the devil breaks in.
i sharply intake.
then cornered by sin.

there's a flame in his eyes
and there's ice in his veins
there's no message to reap
but a soul to reclaim.

*"what the hell!?" i shout, i cry.
"you're quite right, though 'Devil' will do".

"oh my god!" i whisper, i sigh.
"he can't help, friend. i killed him too."