#rememberthatwemadethistogether
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
chapters of life continue to count
i change my names even as an adult
the end of those silly days
the beginning of these present ways
i changed my name again to feel okay.
each has its place to stay
and each one has something to say
the same person but divided by timeline
feel so different, they’re all strangers
but i’m stronger as i get older
if so, why do i now want to cry?
you killed my every name with all your mistakes.
a man who doesn’t know how to give but take
the end of blinded love era
once again i got a new name.
every broken piece is shaped as shame
and each one is yours.
my name now is cherry wine.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:39 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
two sparrows came to my balcony today.
the speaker is playing a new album
from my favourite british artist.
i peek at the tiny strangers through the blinds.
it’s late october,
and i don’t wonder why
my hydrangeas haven’t bloomed.
it’s too gloomy here.
hoegaarden beer and apple sparkling vinegar,
and my writing language turns ******
because i can’t stand how unfair life is,
the lessons i never wanted to be taught,
and they’re stuck in my thoughts.
i shouldn’t have fought.
those fights were meaningless.
it was the stupidest thing to ever call you my god.
the weather is cooler.
winter is coming.
the anniversary you forgot,
and no one cares anymore.
sparrows, come again and take my sorrow away.
talk to me when no one does.
be with me when no one’s here.
he doesn’t deserve my love.
someone, please remove him from my head.
bring me out from my bed.
the past with him was tainted,
and those times were wasted.
i hate him.
a man with no words worth trusting.
i bet he just plays games each day,
and that is where his ego will decay one day.
sparrows, come again and take my sorrow away.
i’m here and pray for this to end.
come again and please stay.
even if i was away,
remember how i prayed.
two sparrows,
one for my sorrow,
one for my soul,
take them with you
when my body leaves this made-up truth.
take them with you,
take them with you,
two sparrows.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:38 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
you’re too scared to be written by me.
shamelessly shaking at what you’ve done,
worried about how your story will be.
i once wrote us as romantic
as an english garden of roses and wildflowers,
forever spring and summer.
you were my hero
and more.
but it never satisfied you.
i was wrong to romanticise
the emotional crimes you committed.
the new edition has been edited,
and it’s full of messages.
love has been replaced
by truth,
by justice,
by hate.
enjoy your ripe fruit.
you know exactly
what you’ll lose.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:37 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
citrusy apple as my shower gel,
hot water as always.
a lilac-scented towel,
warm glazed pumpkin on skin,
babylon papyrus, my new favourite perfume.
all black already dressed up.
blue moon hummed quietly since dawn,
on my way to the tomb
of a stranger i once knew.
dried leaves over the dead body,
cold eyes shut down from the game.
justice wrapped in white,
packed in pieces of wood
grown from a rotten mind.
for him i had no flower,
for him whom i struck.
it was a happy day,
though the sky was slightly grey.
farewell, dead stranger.
i wished you well
in somewhere worse than hell.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:37 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
a red rose is still slowly blooming
in an old footage from my archive file,
hidden from everyone’s eyes
even i almost forgot.
now i wear a lace dress
stitched from prickles and self-harm threads,
with still no one to hold my hand.
the same songs are still playing,
and i’m still bad at singing.
but warm or cold, memories return.
they land on me like butterflies
or like vengeful fire.
and that wasn’t me.
i know who i’m to be.
but if that wasn’t me,
who am i to be?
and if that was me
did i want to be?
the rose is blooming,
and i’m bleeding.
the rose is gloomy,
and i’ll soon be free.
to be me.
who’s really me?
to be free.
who’s really free?
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:36 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
i was in a locked, tiny room
unfinished and empty,
nothing but walls, a ground, a ceiling.
it was colourless,
not even black, white, or grey.
the uncomfortable space
was roughly tailored for my death.
i wasn’t sure if my eyes were closed or open
as i swallowed all the furniture in.
in the fear of missing you,
i was still missing you.
in the fear of hurting you,
you were still hurting me.
instead of our wedding room…
i didn’t know how i ended up in this lonely tomb.
gloom was the killer.
he never wanted to make it better.
“remember that we made this together.”
“re mem ber that w e made this toget her.”
“remember
that we
made this
together.”
“re me m be r tha t w e ma de this to ge th er.”
“re
mem
ber
that
w e
ma de
this
to
geth
er.”
“remem
ber
that
w e
made
this
toget
her”
“r
emember
together
”
this together
”
“
remember
this together
”
”
we made
“
we made this together”
“
remember. that”
“remember that we
made this together.”
“re
mem
ber
tha
t
w
e
m
a
d
e
th
is
to
ge
t
he
r.”
“
remember that we made this together.
”
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:35 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
on a pavement
in the capital city of a developing country,
wearing black trainers,
i slowly walked behind a stranger
a middle aged man with something *****
weighing on his left shoulder.
i observed it along the way,
gathering my fragile self together,
wondering whether to tell him,
or let his touch do its duty.
it was the produce
of wasted creatures’ bodies.
i wondered when it happened
perhaps while he was wandering in the park
without his wife alive.
it was a strange day in autumn.
the air was fresh
because of death
and its injustice,
brought too soon
by human cruelty.
dedication and devotion
had given him no fruition
only silent frustration.
it was the reality
of wrong admiration,
inherited from generations,
generating heavy dirtiness
on this stranger’s left shoulder.
my mouth didn’t move.
there was a ton of glue,
tasting like my ex’s unhealthy ***
i swallowed some,
but there was more to go,
the personal, ***** truth
from his left shoulder to mine.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:34 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
wounded victims
of war’s consequences
innocent lives are burdened.
is peace only an abstraction,
the art of tactic deconstruction?
they’re always forgotten,
those names once mentioned.
how did you become their tool,
ruling a cold world beneath their toes?
your shoes, i polish.
your dreams, i cherish.
yet your bullets lie buried in me
is this my royalty fee?
i’m still breathing, but not living.
it hurts to see the circle still running.
i still hear gunning and bombing
those screams are whose to redeem?
if peace isn’t only an abstraction,
give me recognition,
i’m still breathing
but not really living.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:33 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
it’s so big and long,
but is it enough
for everyone
whose ego stretches wider
than the grand canyon?
black or white,
asian or western,
race, gender,
humans are humans.
and yes,
we’re flawed by nature,
but we don’t have to be
this proudly cruel.
neo armstrong cyclone jet armstrong.
put it in the mouths
of those who turn peace into lies,
or put it in mine,
for refusing this obedient life.
i’d rather die with belief
than live dressed in shame.
i choose being human
over breathing like evil.
neo armstrong cyclone jet armstrong.
schools promise better adults,
but raise parents
trained to repeat abuse
in a world with no mercy,
no empathy.
how lovely.
tell governments to count the bodies.
tell soldiers blind obedience
is not innocence.
how lucky i am
to love someone
who supports this.
go to hell, bebe.
it’s disgusting.
put it in their mouths,
and his.
neo armstrong cyclone jet armstrong.
where do love
and peace
actually belong?
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:32 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
i’m just an ordinary person,
looking for peace and sincerity
in a society where cruelty
is already normal.
adults plant hate,
raising their kids
to dehumanise their friends.
consequently, empathy dies,
and violence becomes breathing.
i had an ex.
he was a nationalist, a racist,
and every time i saw him spreading hate,
i ended up carrying it inside myself.
i became the mirror
of what he said.
he even named his email
by pasting “hate”
onto a country
and its leader’s name.
how do you explain anything
to someone blind at heart
and deaf to logic?
they don’t give a ****
they believe what they know
is absolute truth,
never realising
there are other ways
to loosen the strings,
to choose paths
where nobody loses.
but the mirror cracked,
and i shattered with it.
pieces of me fell away
and he didn’t see any of them.
violence kept breathing.
and i still kept dreaming
a better world would come one day.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:31 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
the tap is broken.
water’s still dripping.
words left unspoken
why do i keep hearing?
enchanted apple
give it a bite.
unattractive appearance,
but it’s coming for life.
the cost of fighting
who’s going to pay?
i’m calling for human rights.
do you think it’s not right?
“humans are naturally savage.
it’s our nature.
people are greedy,
and we must do everything
for our country.
the authorities belong to the superiors
so do the responsibilities of the outcome.
the subordinates are slaves,
kept in order.
human machines
no thoughts, no feelings.
morality abandoned
by military rules.
peace and freedom are just words
in the dictionary.
we don’t use them
in life daily.”
said a man
who watched his wife die in war
who killed her with his own hands
just to be a “good man”
in his commanders’ eyes.
he is the model man of his country.
then he got promoted.
so honourable.
have fun in your house,
where memories of her
never stop haunting you
food that she shared,
chores that she cared,
a love she once bore.
honourable man,
made to be machine
killing the innocent.
is it worth even a cent?
the tap isn’t broken.
water’s still dripping.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:30 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
news is about celebrities,
counterfeit politicians,
and click-bait coverages and copies,
while the world is burning
and happily,
we are being burned.
respectfully,
it’s not a fire drill, dear sirs.
we’re killing ourselves
with someone else’s wealth.
isn’t it strange
that we’re decisively driving straight to hell,
we’re repeating
the past mistakes again.
i bet it’s suffocating for us
to be burned and buried.
then new generations
will bring peace for ceremony,
just to destroy it once the fake images are made,
and the ugly cycle starts over again.
it starts over again like our brain cells programmed by violence.
i want it to stop but who am i to change?
i want it to stop but my boyfriend says i’m insane.
i want it to stop but he says i’m deranged.
he is one of them
the ones who think only of themselves.
he loves me for my kindness
and hates me for the same.
he says shame is on me.
he lives in democracy
but practices hypocrisy.
he repeats the cycle without a second of denial.
our love falters when peace has no shelter.
and if my vision of the world offends my lover,
then i’d rather stand alone
than soften myself
and watch people suffer
under greed and cultivated hate.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:20 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
land belonged to no one.
fields that were once loud
now held their own violence,
sown with decades of unspoken rage.
those who brought the harm
never touched the hot metal.
i called from outside;
my voice could not cross the threshold,
and fear told me one day the name might be mine.
they said if there were no coffin, there were no tears
and if it wasn’t them who decided,
then it would be no one at all.
were we born only for fire and soil?
where does a soul go when its name is taken?
when your house becomes one of those fields,
when love itself is hollowed,
you will know.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:20 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
this world is a factory.
humans roll off the line
as social products,
born from impressive *******
wrapped, priced,
and shipped to be consumed
efficiently.
gender stamps the label.
value assigned at birth.
tradition keeps the machines warm,
old rules greased and running
so some of you can keep having fun
and call it order.
the minority never gets an invitation.
they’d spill drinks,
ask questions,
raise their voices.
who wants that
at a clean, noble table?
i wanted change.
i really did.
but my ex nodded along with this world
and i nodded too,
afraid that disagreement
would cost me love.
i should have listened to myself
instead of keeping him.
i don’t clap when people die.
he did.
he orgasmed.
genocide.
suicide.
bodies falling apart on screen
while his body stayed untouched,
his pleasure intact.
his **** wet.
my stomach turning.
he showed me the videos
they weren’t supposed to show anyone.
blood.
guts.
bones.
people killing people
for laughs,
for gods,
for flags.
slaughter as entertainment.
massacre as ritual.
weapons and religion
wear the same uniform.
tell me
was i supposed to smile,
to be grateful,
to give him pleasure
through my fear?
was i ever qualified
to be the woman he would marry
with real desire?
or only useful
until inconvenient?
all i see now is this:
humanism crushed under profit.
empathy dismissed as weakness.
rights handed out conditionally.
love rationed.
they say individualism is freedom
but it feels like isolation with better branding.
they call nationalism pride
and forget to mention the bodies.
i said the world could be better.
he laughed.
said optimism was childish.
said reality was cruel
and that i should grow up.
but cruelty isn’t truth.
it’s laziness.
we forgot what life was meant to be:
nature. difference. coexistence.
the world is small.
but our minds are smaller
when we refuse to imagine more.
this system needs a patch.
a rewrite. or it isn’t worth running.
i don’t fit anywhere.
i don’t belong cleanly
to any side.
life would’ve been easier
if i had stayed quiet,
shrunk myself,
pretended i agreed.
but silence was never peace.
it was just survival
misnamed.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:50 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
i thought,
therefore i was.
you thought,
therefore you were.
i was a farmer
in a red dress,
white ribbon,
black hair,
singing songs
i only knew.
you were a foreign man,
exalted by exhaustion,
clothed in black
faded with ghosts.
you came here to rest,
fleeing dawns
you had killed.
your shovel of logic
dug into my mouth
as i served you truth.
i kissed the ground
your feet claimed.
the farm was silently
growing fruit
heavy
against you.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:50 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
i couldn’t work right away after it happened.
it was too much for me to carry.
words would come out with blood and tears,
and my fury would burn everything and everyone.
that was not who i was meant to be.
so broken i had never been.
invisible, fatal wounds grew inside me
like a gang of cancers.
they are my immortal reminder.
happiness never really after.
now, i intellectualise pain into power.
i’m turning thirty,
and starting to rebuild my virginity.
it isn’t about morality
but rather my own embroidered manifesto
to regain my powerful power.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:49 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
ash and smoke
marched across my face,
barefoot,
leaving footprints
where i could not hide.
a week of weeping
before i saw him again,
standing above me,
a ******
holding the head of truth,
left eye holed,
right eye red,
still speaking,
but without sound.
he dropped it beside me.
truth and i,
face to face
with no end.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:48 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
the stage is yours, sir.
man with two faces,
strings on your short fingers
controlling my thoughts,
addressing me for all your faults.
i’m your broken doll, not a human as you call.
turn the light on, put me in the front,
make me walk, make me talk.
and when you sing the song,
string me along.
“hi…
hi everyone.
i don’t really know how to start this nicely,
so i’ll just say it plainly.
this body here,
the one standing in front of you,
once trusted him.
he was my ex.
and, as some of you know,
the puppeteer.
he used to tell me he loved me.
told me he would never hurt me.
told me i was safe with him.
and i believed every word.
not because he proved it,
but because i loved him enough
to fill in the empty spaces myself,
even when he poured things into me
that should never belong to love.
the truth is…
he didn’t treat me well.
he made me feel small.
guilty for asking for basic kindness.
ashamed for having emotions at all.
every disagreement became a lesson
about what i did wrong.
every pain was something i had to fix.
so i stayed quiet.
i let him talk over me.
because, at the time,
loving him felt easier
than losing him.
and somehow,
i learned to believe
that it was my fault.
even when the problems were mutual,
the responsibility was always mine.
always mine to carry.
always mine to repair.
but today,
i’m here to say my side.
not because i want revenge.
not because i want applause.
maybe a part of me wants to embarrass him.
maybe that’s true.
but mostly,
i just want to exist in my own voice
without softening it anymore.
this is me, speaking.
finally.
so here he is,
in the spotlight he always avoided.
i’m not saying he’s a villain.
and i’m not saying i was perfect.
but promises were made.
and i wasn’t the one who broke them.
he didn’t know how to love
without controlling everything he touched.
and i mistook endurance
for devotion.
if you want the full story,
i wrote it down.
it’s one-sided.
it’s messy.
it’s uncomfortable.
but it’s honest.
and for the first time,
it’s mine.
enjoy.”
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:47 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
"do you swear that the evidence you shall give to the court in this matter shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?"
"i do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare
and affirm that the evidence i shall give
shall be the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth."
“you may begin your evidence.”
“so firstly, shame on him,
kyc.
i don’t carry it.
i refuse it.
it does not live on my skin.
he gaslighted me.
manipulated me.
took my pure intention
and twisted it into labour.
he promised we would build a life.
that the money would be for us.
that it was for our future,
our marriage, our home
where i would have a garden
full of flowers and a nice kitchen.
and what did i receive?
nothing.
nothing but black.
nothing but lies.
call it what you want.
i know what it is.
he locked doors.
hid behind screens.
used vpns like curtains of shame.
he consumed gore.
war footage.
bodies torn apart.
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
soldiers killed by drones.
bombs.
accidents.
massacres.
****** and suicide after ******
he watched people die
and called it satisfaction.
and then he showed it to me.
watched my fear
like it was entertainment.
this man has no empathy.
not for strangers.
not for me.
i begged for softness.
i begged for safety.
i was dreaming of becoming his wife.
do you understand that?
i was planning a future
while he was feeding on destruction.
he did not just hurt me.
he ruined my belief
in love,
in partnership,
in tomorrow,
in myself.
he left scars you cannot photograph.
and i can’t articulate well.
built a wall inside my chest
brick by brick
with silence and cruelty.
the person who trusted him
is dead.
he killed the innocent version of me.
and if this…
if this…
is still not enough
to call him to account,
then i truly do not know
what justice stands for.”
“that is all, your honour.”
“no. it’s not. it’s just too much to say.
if you see him, you will know.
you will...
you will know.”
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:46 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
thomas tomatoes for bolognese spaghetti
or possibly fettuccine.
all-purpose flour with butter
i’m going to make tortillas.
poor me
i bought cheddar instead of mozzarella.
here’s honey lemon with rice vinegar,
and in the fridge, still,
a bottle of sparkling apple cider.
and they make me wonder
would you be happy
if you were here,
enjoying them with me?
but who are you,
anyway?
i’m a broken-hearted home cook,
finding the meaning of life
and a little stable ground,
with groceries and grief.
and honestly, i’m doing great.
i’m proud of myself
for the obstacles i’ve overcome
though they weren’t much fun.
who are you?
the promise breaker?
the “true love” cheater?
a worthless man
from a racist foreign land?
what a shameful man.
good luck to thomas tomatoes
they’re not eaten by you.
a shameful man
from a country built on arrogance,
racism dressed as “culture.”
cheers to thomas tomatoes
and cheers to me
for not having you here.
thomas tomatoes,
and though i told you so,
the truth is
my spoken words
don’t match
the world i hold
inside.
maybe it’s just conceptualised.
tortillas turn into rotis with sugar caramelised.
and one day, my heart will realise
i still have life to live
and i need to eat.
romanticising the man who broke my life
doesn’t make him a man to die for.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:44 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
i once wrote ballads of flowers,
verses shaped like letters,
choruses of lovers
and their whispers.
then my papers were crushed.
ink began to melt,
to burn.
i was no longer a writer after all.
no.
i was lower than the lowest,
and that did not make me a liar.
the stars became witnesses
as the wind from your mouth,
******* with no soul,
turned to blades,
and leaves began to fall.
you were not a lover after all.
no.
you led me to the height
only to watch me drop.
then i became the sound you listened to,
my body made a tool
for your ******
red pleasure,
black tragedy.
you were addicted.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:44 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
all your sh*t is yours to fix.
you might not see the truth.
you don’t care about people around you.
being selfish is your survival instinct.
intimacy means taking risks
so you shut yourself down,
calling it “being calm.”
to the world, pathetic.
to your home, self-centric.
don’t bother anyone else.
you.
problem-maker.
motherf*cker.
just because your mummy didn’t love you
doesn’t mean that i didn’t do too.
well, all the sh*t belongs to you.
it’s all yours to fix.
you’re nothing
without your ****
without your ****
you’re nothing.
it’s all yours to fix.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:43 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
talked to you in my imagination,
though i’d declared my self-obligation.
it was another violated declaration.
what a perfection.
“i still love you,”
that was a self-love abortion.
“i still think of you,”
that was a self-harm addiction.
seeing you here, probably i was crazy.
then self-blaming attacked me again.
too hard to eliminate,
it sank in like an endless blade.
but still things looped in a circle,
the loop of consciousness
both sweet and bitter.
my legs, weak.
my head, heavy.
my heart, empty.
nothing inside, hollowed.
my skin, peeled off.
my expectations, diminished.
my feelings, published.
then, truth and lies, distinguished.
you still watched
“why do women hurt good men?”
“how to prepare for a breakup”
“signals to leave your partner.”
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:42 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
the ground was unstable.
every day i felt dizzy.
its hands heavy on my tongue,
each fingertip tapped on my teeth,
its ***** feet stomped on my lips,
each nail scratched my soft palate
in strange quiet tension,
in detention of hesitation.
this place hallucinated;
the tragic scenes in my head.
the bed we once slept in,
the sheets with your sweat,
the changed places during ***
where my parts weeping, stitched into laces
of a coward liar’s face
and a lover’s cage.
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 11:03 PM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
i thought i’d please you
with all those fantasies,
but all you ever needed
were big ***** big p**sy
your holy trinity,
your definition of intimacy
compressed into pixels
and **** categories.
i baked you apple pie
red washington, new zealand
cut the slices soft and thin,
mixed with diced pieces.
but while i stood there
carefully spooning cinnamon,
you were busy dreaming
of ******** ****
******* on strangers’ faces,
imagining yourself inside women,
even those pregnant ones.
boy, relax.
i knew you needed some fun.
i was open about this.
you could go if you craved it,
or stay if you wanted to.
i understood what you needed.
i didn’t judge you for wanting it.
i didn’t shame you for liking it.
i didn’t make you feel small
for needing ****
but did you ever do mine?
you took my openness
as permission
to forget my desires.
you mistook my kindness
for silence.
and every time i met you halfway,
you stood still holding your ego tighter than me.
i understood what you wanted.
but did you ever do mine?
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 11:02 PM UTC