A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?



The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.



I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.



I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.



I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.



If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.

suppose you aren't assured of the next meal
upon your head rules the sky
maggots are feeding on your free will
better seems the option to die.

suppose you've none to give company
not a soul to call your own
days seem to crawl with no hurry
nights only make you more alone.

suppose open road is where you stay
sometimes a tree to beat the sun
people are bent on moving away
you've no home for day-end run.

suppose you've nothing called privacy
can't afford the luxury of shame
you relieve yourself for all to see
don't recall if you ever had a name.

suppose you've to scavenge from dustbin
your dignity is trampled like road's dirt
could they all make you feel a poem within
write a line crystalline in your heart?

i only wash my hair every four days
and i never shave my legs unless i'm going somewhere that requires a dress-
         or no clothes at all.
                            and i never remember to put on deodorant in the morning.

i only ever brushed my hair after practice
and reapplied makeup
and made sure to douse myself in the perfume you like so much so
                  you could run your fingers through something more than steam,
                                              you could let your eyes roam without hesitation,
                  you could call me at two in the morning and tell me your clothes  
                                                       ­                                             still
              ­                                                                 ­                          smelt                   
                                        ­                                                                 ­         like                                      
             ­                                                                 ­                                           me.

i only ever did anything
                                       for you.

It doesn't matter what anyone says, there's no right way.
Why? Because everyone is different, so they're attacks are different.
I once compared an anxiety to an exercise in theater arts.
And I was told that having an anxiety attack didn't feel that way.
Well, for me, it does, because that's how it feels for me.
You can't tell me that what I'm feeling is not an anxiety attack.
Just like I can't tell you that you're not having one.
Why? Well, because that would be me just saying you're wrong.
And how can I tell you that what you're feeling is wrong?
I don't know how you react to anxiety, so I can't.
That's why, I know that everyone has different types of anxiety.
You can have a full blown anxiety attack.
You can have a mini one, or it can be just physical and unnoticed.
There is no wrong way to have an anxiety attack.
Everyone experiences anxiety in their own ways, and it's real.
Just know that anxiety can happen in any way.
There's no right or wrong way to have one, they just happen.
Whether you can control them or not, they happen.
All you can do, is do your best to manage them and be okay.
That doesn't mean they'll go away, it doesn't.
This just means that you'll be able to live and cope with them.

Maybe you already love me. Maybe I'm in your mind. Maybe it's all just taking just a little more time. Perhaps you're trying to find a way, a place, a spot for me. But maybe just another girl is all I'll ever be.

Life Cycle

As a girl I was innocent and naïve
as a twen I became a Mum
must increasingly be on the alert
with no one raise-certificate to educate kids
this was very tiresome to the bits

possess too many intellectual inhuman papers
to build a huge factory perhaps with pampers
where paper weapons can be produced
never say they are "of no use"
but nowhere to find certificates
to educate my kids

look at the giants like Kennedy and Gandhi
they found their peaceful death
at 's worlds greatest slaughtery
the killings with their own products
amongst their own beloved people
such inhuman tragedies
murdered by those paper weapons factories

coursed by human devils
driven by darkest evils
the paper feel, never more

our worst nightmare
I declare
the truth in life's most misery
papers running off
weapons became true rifles
the paper that was trash
a biggest mess
they showed us their biggest ash
as soonest paper weapons' biggest tragedy

killing giants like Kennedy and Gandhi

such a highest treachery
such a comedy
not the divine one
that's pure pun

I must increasingly be on the alert
it never hurt
but eternal absurd!
the papers?
I truly miss them
no sheet to write on
now running out of paper

have to rescue one of the papers
to tell you this biggest tragedy
no human comedy
nor divine

my kids...?

they are
just fine!


© Sylvia Frances Chan