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anneka Feb 2015
I have loved you like this, with wide eyed glassy gaze and star struck wonder. The universe at our feet and the sky in our hands; weightless with the anticipation of a rose tinted future. Euphoria is dizzying. Even now I still hear your laughter, it resounds in my head when the silence is too loud.

I have loved you like this, with hollow eyes and a washed out frame. In those days no words fell past weak lips, only tears that trembled with exhaustion and a blank gaze that held no light. Emptiness is all consuming. I remember the void expanding further than ever before, spilling between flesh and bone.

I have loved you like this, with careful steps and controlled poise. Electric tension in the air, practiced smiles. “Hello, how are you?" and "Fine, thank you." The corners of our eyes crease, down-turned crescent moons set firmly in place; arms loosely hanging by our sides. Evading you is like running from wildfire. Our efforts were futile anyway, suppressed emotions burning from the inside.

I love you like this now, with quiet glances at old photographs and the replaying of my memories. There’s no one to fill the gaps you’ve left, but over the years I have learnt to bandage old wounds and heal these scars. To pick myself up from where you’ve left me, to learn to put one foot in front of the other despite the pain. Loss is strange. Even now, when the storms rage on, I can still hear you whispering “I’m here, it’ll be okay.”


I loved you -


I love you.

anneka May 2015
these scars
of when you
consumed me
inward, outward
and I could only

watch as the skin hollowed,
sinking to pull fingers apart
tendon from bone, ashes;
flesh dripping through the
cavity where a heart once

yet we know; I know
when the ground shakes
and my vision fades it will
still be you who brings me
back to

anneka May 2016
I. you took all the words I could never pronounce and slipped them to me under the roof of my mouth. yet with time even stone erodes under water, and earth gives way to its core. a cave, a house; the idea of ‘us’ dwindled down to nothing but thin smoke, fumes rising from burning fire wood. as the flowers bloomed in spring, only your shadow took the place besides mine.

II. un deux trois, the numbers slip off my tongue in unfamiliar curves, a lilting curl in an accent too foreign for mine. perhaps we have always been strangers, born from the gap in adam’s ribs and the silhouette of eve’s body. dust to dust they wash and repeat; mantras ticking like metronomes atop grandfather’s piano. the melody still plays even though he is gone, paradise calling him far, far away.

III. she barely reaches my chest, small hands tugging at the edge of my shirt. her eyes are focused, brows furrowed in concentration. ghosts remain forever familiar; we have shared the same face, known the same pain. as my gaze glosses over the crumpled sheets and red pens strewn across the floor, she trembles against me. i reply the only way i know how, dropping to my knees and embracing her. as she begins to fade away, the truth rings in our ears, loud and clear – we both turn out okay, i promise, i promise.

anneka Jan 2014
I. You were thunder and I was lightning. For some reason a part of me always knew this, but never voiced it out. Your arm was around my shoulders and you were warm, radiating heat like the sun. And in some ways, you were my sun. It seemed that somehow I always managed to trip and stumble my way into your orbit, losing count of the number of times I fell into your warmth, into you. When you asked if I was frightened after you huddled close to me I lied and said yes, only to keep you by my side for just a bit longer, just a bit closer. That night we looked into each other's eyes and laughed through our tears, and in that moment I knew as long as I was with you, it was more than enough.

II. My fingers interlocked with yours. It was pitch black and I was terrified, the wind in my face and the moonlight dimly streaming through the trees. We had danced among the leaves and whispered secrets, but you had gone off first; darted in blind excitement towards the crowd in the main square. I screamed for you, an anxious, desperate and impulsive thing, goaded on by the looming shadows and still silence that echoed around the area. If I had blinked I would have missed it, your sudden appearance at my side with my hand in yours. You smiled, and somehow the night didn't seem so dark anymore.

III. It had been a year since, and none of us mentioned that day, the day that left us in ruins. You had smashed my heart against my rib cage the way poets slam poetry, and the tidal waves had washed us over with tears that the ocean couldn't hold. But you came for me, and in that moment I had forgotten; your face a vague image in my memory. Still, you came for me, relentless like the typhoons in august and the storms in december. You pushed and pulled and wormed your way back into my heart, your song a lullaby to my ears and your gaze, a blanket to my fears. I let you in again, I pushed you out again. You tried, You stopped, You tried again. We were quiet about it, but what we left unsaid spoke volumes.

IV. We are here now. It was beginning to fade before this, to become a passing memory. But I should have known better, and as always you knew before me. You had nothing more than a tired smile, but I saw myself in your eyes again, saw us again. The thunder and the lightning, the grass under our feet, the rain in our hair and our laughter that mingled and became one sound. Your warmth and my heart. In that moment I knew you could not and had not forgotten; it was a loud relic and an even louder memory. It was you. It was me. It was us, screaming from the bottom of our lungs into the air and fields like we did years ago, except now it was in our hearts and in our eyes; I love you. I love you. I love you.

anneka Jan 2016
my eyes are white, grey
concrete, and you wonder
how these hands still move

when everything cracks and
cracks, when the echo of your
voice reduces all to ash

they unravel, these knots,
this mind, i think -

no, no more.

anneka Jan 2014
I spent three days in a daze two years ago, and three days lost again this year. I woke up and forgot what it was like to have a heart; all around was silence and silence and silence. The type of silence that shoots straight into the very core of all you know, as if you are noise and the silence is life.

In those moments I wasn't a soul, but an ocean.

This is what happens when a human body transitions into the sea, you see. It is drowning and suffocation, and no amount of screaming produces sound. There are no cries, only the murky crash of waves and the gurgling of sea foam. It is breathless crying, sorrow and endless emptiness, as if the entirety of the universe condensed itself into the tiny space between your rib-cage, and the stars burnt out. It is as if all the stars burnt out and their deaths caused the same death in you. The same sorrow, the same pain, the same loss - only magnified.

The coral reefs are stained black, and the sand is ash. The spaces where your lungs once were are now monuments to things you have lost. There are relics in places where there should be blood, and there is death in places where life once was. And as you feel this, you know it is inescapable. You cannot swim, only sink. Your heart is tar, an anchor sinking into the depths, until you become the sea floor.


"Is he really worth loving with all this pain?"


anneka Oct 2013
the branches bow
wind howl; graceful entrance
golden sunrise of rain

oh sky shower,
glitter illuminates our
pumpkin breath
wintry air

anneka Feb 2016
here my smile unravels at the seams
curving against the spines of my ribs
and oh i, wish i could mean more but
concrete only bends beneath my bones

watch what dances across these glassy eyes
the skin on my face melt, melts, melting
chaos dark matter toxic waste cursed, those
batteries father threw out when i was five

the same year we moved away when
oceans tore home into two, and split
the land apart almost as cleanly
as you do, did, are doing to me

also: i never asked to fall in love.
anneka Sep 2014
She barely remembers the first time she receives flowers, a quiet girl of 6 or 7 standing amidst glaring lights in well worn ballet shoes. The faces of the audience in front of her are a blur; all she knows is the mixed rush of relief and gratitude that months of hard work have culminated into a show worthy of standing ovations and teary eyed smiles from proud parents. The flowers aren't even truly for her, she's only a carrier for them - her ballet teacher the true receiver - but she supposes that for a moment before she passes it on she can pretend the bouquet that covers her face entirely is hers, pretend that she warrants the same pride that everyone else seems to have obtained but her.

The second time is slightly different, more memorable only because she's near death (or dead, there isn't really a distinct difference at that point) on a hospital bed with the light filtering in through the blinds. The doctors can't figure out what's wrong so they inject her body with every sort of painkiller imaginable to the human body. She's pretty sure 12 pills in a day accompanied by an anesthetic drip that slows her system to oblivion has to be illegal somehow, but she can't stay awake for more than half an hour at a time to argue so she takes them in anyway. The flowers are a gift, a showcase of love and concern- although from who she really can't recall - and are a welcome addition to the dull palette of the room. They're the first thing she sees when she wakes up and the last thing she sees before she dozes off, and since she miraculously recovers after a grueling 2 weeks of pain she's sure they're magical somehow. "They must be," her mother says, astounded when she listens to her daughter speak, "I didn't see anything there."

The charm hits by the third time she receives flowers, standing face to face with a boy she's only met once but felt too much with, dim lights casting shadows on their figures. She can't hide the shock on her face as he abruptly thrusts the bouquet into her hands, pastel pinks and purples coming into view. This was never part of the agreement - although really, the entire situation was never actually a choice for either of them - and yet somehow a pleasant surprise. As they tumble into the car, she thanks him and asks his reasons for the unexpected gift although she's pretty sure she already knows. "I just wanted to get it for you." He replies, eyes sparkling with something she can't quite name but knows anyway. The rest of the night continues that way, unreal and perfect. She was right, she thinks, a smile slowly making its way across her face; maybe it'll be okay this time. Maybe it'll finally work.


There isn't a fourth, fifth or sixth time she receives flowers, but she can tell you the number of times she's experienced heartbreak on the tip of her tongue. She receives it in the same way the petals before have fallen through her fingers, giving her something to feel besides numbing shock. Maybe constant loss is similar to the flowers she has held before in some twisted way; aches blooming in the form of bruised hearts, wilting in the dark, temporary, fleeting.

I tried something different, but this still means a lot to me. x
anneka Aug 2014
I would have told you of how there are seas beneath this skin, how there's a storm inside that never ends, how despite it all there's a light within me that never goes out.  

Of how the ocean whispers in my ears as the voices submerge, how I'm put together by broken promises and shattered dreams, how I've drowned in alcohol for nights just to forget.

Of how I balance these fragile smiles amidst the pain, how I've mastered the way to make tear stains on my face disappear by morning, how I wanted to never wake up from that night with you.

Of how you took me home,
but wouldn't be home for me.

anneka Feb 2014
they blur
the cacophonies
bells chiming, creaking doors
the whir of machines
coffee, tea, voices, voices

i am a clock in motion
ink-stained hands
the pen glides, stops
eyes closed and
time holds; lets go

i'd write of the moments
where all seemed eternal
but these pauses
make us

anneka Jan 2014
i want to write to you,
from you and of you
how in every freckle, dimple
inch of star bright skin
you shine, radiate glitter
gravity holds no pull

i tell people i have met the sun
but they only laugh in return
for it is known that the moon dies
so the sun may rise

yet despite the fear
and the end so near
i will follow you
infinitely, entwined
our orbit.

anneka Sep 2014
There exists an empty void in
the middle of my chest where
my heart once was, and I cannot
remember the taste of daylight,
cannot remember anything but
the aches in my head and the
trembling of my hands.

I have spiraled down the edge
far too fast and for far too long,
darkness seeping into the corners
of my eyes like they belong; but
when I wake this human skin still
stays -

Forgive me, I can only choke on
all the words I cannot bring
myself to say.

anneka Jun 2016
I have long forgotten how to play
and still we dance, dance, dance amidst
your winning hand, this lucky streak
euphoria, she has left for the eons
all eludes me, my memory of the last
time I had a taste of any life

we’re in castles apart, far and wide
here there are lovers I have yet to hold
but all of them look like you, and the
silhouettes they tell me there’s
only ghosts in my speech, defeat
on my tongue; lost before the
knights can ever come

the bishops, they bless the one
who bleeds light but I am only the moon
to you, here by the skin of my teeth
in every absence that you present
no more than a pawn in the
game when you crown
yourself king.

anneka May 2016
words are not enough
I can tell you the imprint
of our scars are intertwined,
locked and I have fallen for
so many so fast at once

they spill out, ricochet off
the edge as my vision blurs
waterfalls rushing through
corners of my eyes

one day I will tell you all
the words I cannot say
tear open this cage and
let this beating heart

remember in its place
my soul now sings
a song that goes on
and on forever –


it's been a long time.
anneka Oct 2013
Falling in love with you
was thunder
loud & sudden

Lightning strikes
quick & bright

Here I stand
afraid of storms
yet in love with one

For you smell like warmth;
sunshine after the rain
and ringing laughter

You pose all my
danger in the dark;
yet bring healing
after the pain

anneka Jul 2014
i lost and i
love you,

the days are
mere seconds,
we are only the
echo of heartbeats

there are silences and
then there is silence,
i have a smile made
for the show

waltz through the steps
rehearse every line -

in these faces i
am only looking
for you

anneka Oct 2013
How much do i love you
the question arises
does the love extend down
to the hollows of my soul?
i ask and one day
maybe i can show
this to you

well in words that's
an exorbitant adoration
a suffocating addiction
an intense admiration
you see it is all rather
catastrophic really
i simply love you more
than i really should do

now in images see
try and picture that
you are the seafloor
and I am the diver
who kissed you despite
bleeding eyes and
broken ears because
even the loom of death
couldn't keep me away

in my body you spark
every hidden firework
you relight every burning star
in the spaces of my lungs you
give me a garden filled
with roses and birds that
sing to echo your song
in my eyes you are still
the brightest one of all

so if you ever want to know
how much i love you
there is always
this poem i wrote

but until then i will
continue loving you
from the shadows,
my dear.

anneka Mar 2015
be soft, be mellow, be gentle. let the waves wash over you, let the sea foam dissolve your bones. your voice must be a constant whisper, your eyes open and glitter bright. the world will bend you, break you, destroy you; be cautious but never guarded. build walls that are easily penetrable, let your thoughts never pierce, only persuade. the touch you leave behind must be prints and not scars, the smile you radiate must be all sun and never the moon. hear with the intent of hearing, hear but never be heard. move with grace, let your presence be fleeting and enshrouded in shadows.


i am the tempest roaring, the quiet after the storm. i house a galaxy between my lungs, constellations dotting the insides of my mind. my thoughts are a labyrinth you cannot even begin to fathom; when i speak thunder rolls, lightning strikes. i will go where the wind calls me, i will illuminate the darkness. my voice is the chimes of bells. be strong, be firm, be swift. the world has tried to break me, but i have never been destroyed. the touch i leave behind burns like fire and soothes like silk, the smile i hold curves like the crescent moon. i hear with the intent of understanding, i speak to be heard. the waves crash beneath my feet and -

i will not apologise for being me.

happy international women's day. power to my fellow females!
anneka Jun 2014
we had coffee stains on our faces and grass on our arms, sugar breath drifting over the small space between us. you were the last remnants of sunlight and a beaming smile in the shape of a waning crescent; a sunrise in the evening. laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes echoing back and forth, the smell of petrichor and innocence.

i want you to remember me like this; golden haired, bright eyed and curious, as soft as the day we first met. in my dreams you are still there, we are still in love. our hands are together, the sunlight is still warm.

"don't be afraid," the past you whispers, "i am here."
your arms are around me, and outside the storm rages on.


"you never actually forget your first love, y'know? even if they leave you, you don't forget."

my eyes are closed, a ghost of a smile on my face.

"i know."

sometimes i remember things.
anneka Feb 2014
the day i wanted to tell you
everything, the words
were stuck in my throat
and refused to come out;
filling the spaces in my lungs
sunlight in place of cigarette smoke.

eyes shifting
unreadable, flickering.
i am okay as long as i am
with you; a smile, the quiet.
truth slipped through our
fingers; flexing, the sound
of nerves audible and
our silence louder.

the day you left, the sky let the
sunset spill into vermillion hues
watercolour painting and i,
alone -

you never said goodbye
yet here i am still

anneka Oct 2013
I spend every waking moment
sleeping in your memory,
for here I feel less alone
and more like other wandering souls
trying to find their way home

Orion, Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor
if I met the constellations,
picked the stars from the sky,
perhaps they might match
up to the sparkle in your eyes

Watch fall phase to snow;
wonder why sadness stays
while seasons go

Leaf, flower, fruit seed oh
wilting rose, dead tree
silence takes its toll

See, I tip toe around your thoughts
while you drown me whole.

anneka Oct 2013
I wake to marble ground
and golden chandeliers
with diamond jewels
hung all around
polished silverware
glittering, dreamy state
within the walls were but
drifting souls;
empty, quiet,
floating holes

the weight
of deception
burned it down
or time was due
and earth awoke
crackling sounds
amidst crumbling mounds

there are no people
who dare to stay
yet I run back in through
shattered doors
with a hoarse voice
raw screams;
an arrow through the air
fleeting blur, moving down

the pounding of my own
heartbeat settles to
regret the weeping over a
breaking line
but i spin excuses
for the family i leave behind

"if the children get to
laugh and play another day
I will run till my soles grow cold
and this body decays.”

then the lights go dark
but the sun comes out
to shine and ricochet

darkness fades with
fluttering eyes
and silence fills over
pulsing heart

a realisation then begins
of a distorted reality
where i was the buidling
falling for the earth
and love was the one
trying to save every part
in me from being
swallowed by you

because you are
the earth, the quakes
and the hurricane
you are the one
i have adored

This was based off a real dream I had.
anneka Jul 2015
when my palms still faced
the sky we were songbirds, gold
dusted crescents, diamonds splitting
against marble floor

laughter dances with her lover
liar - they ricochet off the walls;
time has blurred them both into one
and the same

anneka May 2016
I carved you out of marble and stone
but I think it is midas in your blood
and the back of my hands are bruised
from all the years I’ve tried to let go

you still own me without even trying
my tongue is tied in cherry knots
when they told me to soften the
centre to make it easier to swallow,
but then they did not know you

the sea is black with all the blood I’ve spilt
and distance only amplifies the pain, when
where I am only requires liquid luck to
get to where you are; the spirits, they kiss
my eyelids and paint our past gold

the same years that destroyed me glorify
you. you. you. you. the mantra in my
head, the miracle that rose again you
measure each pulse in my blood as I

of the one I have loved so much more
than all of those who came before, yet
you know I never drink with the intention
of leaving, only of love –

only for you.

anneka Sep 2014
Maybe if I smelt less like vanilla and more like thunder you’d still be here. The flow of my hair is a tangle of flowers and berries with names we both can’t pronounce, but yours always left the scent of home and sunlight behind. I know the tips of my fingers still taste like strawberries and the words that left your tongue dripped like honey. That you felt like static, moved like lightning and I was always in awe; the time you draped me in roses and called me yours, the time you told me my name in your mouth reminded you of only the best things. Maybe if I wasn’t who I am, maybe if you weren’t who you were. Maybe if the footprints I leave behind weren’t made of silence, maybe if the moments we made weren’t littered with scars -

I will always wonder why God decided to take you away from me.

anneka Nov 2013
"you cannot be sad all the time, don’t lie. you are smiling, that is a good thing."

it is a rebuttal from yet another friend of so-and-so says, related by this-and-that and somehow in the crossroads of here-and now we meet by chance and speak by fate. i silently contemplate the vast expanse of the universe in comparison to the shallowness of the waters in some people, simultaneously envying the happiness they bask in and the darkness they get to escape.

there are days when the hardest thing to do is to wake up, and there are days when the rooster crows while i am wide awake but exhausted and numb down to the veins of my very being. it is a rocky journey under faint light and overwhelming dark, a never ending battle between stubborn, suffocating will against the voices who whisper lies and truths all at once. yet here i stand, weak but not defeated, dying but still alive.

i keep this hope in the center of my hand, that someday everything will be okay, and i will love as i have learnt to miss those i have lost.


"i smile everyday, but that does not necessarily mean the smile reaches my heart."

anneka May 2015
we will burst forth from the veins
pouring red over gold and I will
whisper the secrets of this life into
the cracks where our broken bones lie

the sun vanishes into your eyes
and warmth pours from every pore
sparks ignite, shining; shatters -
I am only as real as this world
will let me be

it is here in our hearts
echoing off the walls
once apart, twice entwined
charmed, charmed, charmed.

anneka Nov 2013
loving you* is being on the highest drop of the tallest roller coaster in the world over and over again, despite being afraid of heights.

missing you is drowning in the depths of the ocean, and never having learnt how to swim.

meeting you was beginning an endless journey that started and ended at its destination; for no matter how far i go, somehow i always find my way back to you.

anneka Feb 2014
there are thirteen days left till
the ocean splits us apart
and time swallows our distances,
seconds to minutes to hours
the miles are not as far as our hearts

i would murmur over the sea
of how our losses are bittersweet;
that losing you and letting go wasn't as
hard as i thought it would be -

but sometimes i still miss you
in the spaces between our fingers,
your song has escaped my memory
now that all thoughts run from
instead of to you; stranger
things have happened still

yet i have learnt to accept loss
watch love walk away -
you have and will not stay,
but this time
i will be okay.

anneka Aug 2014
gentle petals fall at her feet, and she smiles with the knowledge that she is the real beginning. of spring, of life, of new stories. her hair curls delicately at the ends and she is translucent, limbs pale and blushing red where the blood flows anew. she holds the secrets of lovers now, lovers long past and those to be; understands and celebrates, both alone and with nature. closed eyes, quiet breaths and careful steps, dancing around joy and healing heartbreak. her sun rises in tones of crimson and faded purple, her moon hiding behind whispers of clouds, of storms. the melting of snow under sunlight is her voice, and she moves gracefully, regally.

february paints over january with a wave of her hand, turning the glitter of the new year into subtle glows, the wind and cold into gradual warmth; transitional, beautiful.

anneka Feb 2016
mama, he's a wonder though
see him seek my touch from
ice to flames, heaven to hell
and back again

mama, what do i do
his gaze ignites, firelight
in the depths of my heart
buried within ash from
all those years ago

mama, you never warned me
these shadows return in guises;
legends say there were ten suns
till they shot down nine but

isn't it funny how
i'm left with

anneka Sep 2014
how I’ve been reduced to
so little and almost nothing
wandering aimless, nameless
in a sea of so many where I
find myself alone yet again.

anneka Mar 2015
eventually this will all be a shot in the heart, a fading noise in the dark. I have wandered and wondered for years now but to no avail; the past weighs in as an avalanche and the only anthem I can recall holds no melody, no song. in dreams I am merely asleep, in life I only exist. there's a place where empty hearts go, they say, of a valley shrouded in shadows where ice flames flicker and nothing grows. I wish I could tell you that I was strong enough, immortal even, to avoid such a fate; yet in the soul of my soul we both know that there are some things from which one cannot escape.

the only love I know feels like this, thunderstorms, warm hands and piercing silence. of passing glances and wilting flowers. even silence is a noise, some will tell you, and they are right. there are scars in my core that bandages cannot heal, that time cannot take away. how quiet people become in the face of those they cannot save. how little our lives mean on the grander scale of things. with every inhale I imagine that the universe must be consuming me from within; perhaps one day I will finally be able to forget it all.

I wonder if you still remember me from time to time.

anneka Dec 2013
I have been eating flowers recently and hoping that one day I will be able to restart the garden in my heart that you tore apart. The light will shine again and roses will bloom to the steady staccato beat of my pulse, daisies and sunflowers rising up from the ground to create their own sunrise. Pale pink buds of tulips and bright blue violets will paint my veins with vivid life, the world beautiful again, the air fresher, my heart better.

The more I consume, the less there is of you and more of nature; earth taking over to heal the hurt in my soul. I tell myself this will work, it will succeed eventually; but inside the core of everything there is the pin ***** of reality that leads me back to the truth.


For despite everything, I still love you.

First, last, always.

anneka Feb 2015
the asphalt on your skin is worn
thin as the blood that seeps from
your veins; volatile, impossible
and still in the end we laid you
to seek the quiet within ocean
blues, journey towards the sea

glassy eyes, dying breath. gasp,
shake - water streaming down
our faces the tsunami tides still
break and they still take. i tried
to warn death of you and yet
perhaps that was my main

there are years i have known
and years that are a haze; life
is but a passing glance and
endless farewells. yet this is
the hope i hold in my heart, of
golden gates and eternity's shore
may it be you i find waiting at the
end of my

anneka Nov 2013
I reckon every day is another page, another chapter to the storybook of your life. Some people have every sheet numbered in neat chronological order or categorised according to A-Z, while others are blank pages waiting to be filled, waiting for words to come. Occasionally there are stories that have been left unfinished, tragic end or dire fate, and there are those that end in the quiet melody of unsung heroes.

Of all the life stories in the world, mine is fragile at the spine, paper thin and translucent. The ink is splashed across several pages, words intelligible and smudged with tears; blood stains dotting the edges. There are countless tales that lurk beneath the binding, and even more lives entwined with mine. You, for instance, pressed thorns between the pages of the book that is my life, leaving flowers wilting amongst the splotched ink words and tears in the paper. It is funny, because only when you look back do you realise that nothing would ever be the same if you didn’t exist.

I am older now, the accompaniment to the author that is destiny and fate, overseeing the paths I am to take, the people I still have yet to meet, the places I will go. There is no promise of calm ahead, and with every recollection there are flashes of hurt and pain, of times when my heart was torn apart at the seams, shattered beyond recognition. Despite this I continue on, the naive hope that things will get better and that I will recover, lingers in the core of my soul; sparking a new hope down to the ends of my fingertips.

And while page after page is filled with cutouts and photographs of the memories I have had, none will ever shine as bright as you.


"When you’re here it’s like the sunrise, and when you leave it’s like the sunset."

anneka Feb 2015
death first visited at seven
in the form of endless sleep
ghosting over weathered skin
and phantom hair; hollowing
bones that would creak no more.
they told me that the end was of
peace as we went through oceans
and back, to where the shell of my
grandfather lay.

death later breezed past at nine, when
the faiths started to shift at home and
great grandmother could no longer
remember my face. they told me that
time takes and time heals, but no one
ever spoke of how the flowers in her
garden stopped blooming after she
left us; only the faint hint of musk
and jade helps us remember she
once was here.

death crashed in at eighteen like the
clashing of cymbals and blaring of
horns, when the cells in my uncle's body
multiplied and could not stop. they told us
there was only today or tomorrow, yet in
my heart i knew he would stay forever.
we never speak about how his last breaths
sounded like train wrecks or how his passing
meant weeks of grey; only of how he left
a legacy of love behind and laughter that
could outshine
the sun.

death came unannounced at nineteen as
i watched my dog pass into eternity's slumber.
after fifteen years with her the loss is shattering;
when i close my eyes it is still her salt and pepper
fur between the gaps of my fingers, her happy
barks when we returned home. i never want to
let go, yet i know one day i must -

memory lasts where
life cannot.

anneka Mar 2015
I was a shot in the dark and you were a candle burning bright. We were the moon and the sun, water and fire; mirroring parallels that would never get a happily ever after. For years I hoped that perhaps we would be the exception, and in the times I held your warmth and heard your laughter, I truly believed that we were.

But I have come to learn that we are not.

They say that twenty and two represent disorder, light, and here you are with a smile on your lips and the ashes of what could have been collapsing through your fingertips. Sometimes people fall in love only to have it fall apart.

What I’m trying to say is that even though there may be endless ways of celebrating years past and gone, this is something that stands apart from the rest. Once you would sing to me, but that is merely memory now.

In place of the silence, please take this as my song to you.

anneka Jan 2015
I. beyond us the sky stretches far past the horizon, fading shades of crimson bleeding into violet as the sun sets. “the world is full of infinite wonder,” I whisper, tracing ancient runes onto your skin. “and so are you.” the corners of your mouth break into a smile, and silently you maneuver the sheets till we’re eye to eye. “only for you,” you reply, and my answering laughter echos in the room.

II. in the morning the sun rises in bursts of gold, light dispelling the shadows in gradients of honey. the gentle hum of rustling trees cannot drown out the steady staccato beat of our hearts, legs tangled and fingers entwined. in my dreams I mumble your name, and as I wake to your warmth I slowly realise home is a feeling and not a place. “you are the moon,” you begin, “and you are the sun.” I end, sleep clinging to our voices in unison.

III. the edges of my letters to you are stained with tears, ink bleeding in places where the paper has yellowed with time. your gaze is a question, but I only push the box nearer towards you. “for all the times I missed you, and for all the times I couldn’t reach you.” I respond quietly. you spend the rest of the week reading each one, brows furrowed in concentration. at the end of it all I receive a silent apology, closed eyes and forehead against mine. I feel the words said more than I hear them; three words to carry us through the remainder of this life - I love you.

anneka Nov 2013
I don’t know how to explain that here I love and love and love with all I am and everything in my heart but I am still, endlessly, not enough. I am the fire you forgot to put out and the words you left unspoken and eventually slipped your mind. I am trying my hardest and I am falling so fast and so high.


You keep things inside your head, you keep things inside your heart. Nothing makes sense anymore, but you know one thing - is that you will love even when there is nothing left to love and nothing left of yourself. You will gather the memories and entangle them together in broken figments of shattered time frames and convince yourself this was how it was meant to be, that you were supposed to be.

You will tell yourself that you will be okay even though you are not, and you will believe it.

anneka Feb 2015
one day we will sit on the rooftops when the sun washes her last lights over us. on that day we will find ourselves awake when the world starts to sleep; amongst the quiet bristling of leaves and under the blanket of night we will trace the constellations in the sky with arms high and heart abandoned. our smiles will mimic the crescent moon, and you will sing that special song when the euphoria in your body hits a crescendo. we are but passing moments, and although i know this i will etch your voice into my bones, pretending that each symphony has no end, that all melodies are ceaseless. as your laughter causes the last notes to fade off into the dark, my own voice will echo yours –

this is forever.


“it has been years, and yet you still…”

she only laughs in reply.

“time means nothing.”

anneka Oct 2013
The night is your bed, the moon a blanket for your thoughts and the stars your pillow. You are immobile, paralysed by feelings and memories that only grow stronger as the light dims. There are so many things left to say that remains unsaid, and songs to sing that go unsung.

Worlds awake without slumber now, the physical realm paling in comparison to the galaxies that you can reach in your mind. There are planets and solar systems of hurt that you can reach with a simple call for the past - and you, the lost traveler floating in the vacant space.

A gaping hole where your heart once was echos the empty in your soul, but tears are the makeshift poultice that keep you going. A similar blank smile graces your face; but the cracks in your frame seep only love and a sadness that speaks volumes of how deep the hurt runs in your blood, bleeding black and wilting crimson.

Memories, memories.

For I remember everything, even as you forget -

- even as you have forgotten.

anneka Oct 2013
I'll write forever
just to get to
where you are

words are steps
sentences are bridges
if paragraphs are boats
may this poem fly
me to

anneka Nov 2015
July was fantastical. I was always struck speechless when she smiled.  Her loose limbs used to flail in mid-air as she danced in circles around me. She’d do this routine – a spin once, twice, and then a graceful fall to the floor; knees pressed against the earth. The breeze would start to change as she fell, the scent of grass, rain and sunlight wafting through the air. It smelt of home, the forest. July, she was breath-taking. The calendar said we had 31 days left every year and I think that’s what made her so different. That she knew she wouldn’t last past the summer and live to see autumn. Sometimes I still hear her laughter as an echo in the place I hold so dear.


When December comes visiting, she tells me July was only a dream.

“But you have 31 days too.” I argue.

“Time is always longer in the cold,” December replies. “It makes summer seem like it never existed.”

I always laugh when she says this because I know the truth – every end is merely a new beginning.

anneka Sep 2014
I will cradle your memory in my hands against my heart, and the pulse of it will be warm and soft against my fragile skin. These memories are permanent now; sewn into my bones and intertwined with the very core of my soul. In your silence their voices echo; how you're only one human in this fleeting life when the universe is vast and endless with so many more to meet, but they do not know you like I do, like I did.

If I ever forget the way your hands felt in mine or the way your smile triumphed over the sun's own, I want you to know that I will return to you somehow. Even if the stars misalign and this world collapses into the crevices, even if the end is in sight and my faith trembles with exhaustion, even if the distance between us grows infinitely, forever -

It's always been you,
it will always be you.

anneka Feb 2015
heart of my heart
flesh of my flesh
the merry bell tolls,
cries tinkling chimes
of young laughter

I sink in the depths
of your pestle, mortar,
delicate dripping lips
the hours are now years
hazy and blurred

of swaying breeze, and
careful steps; flighty
translucent limbs splayed
out in the sunrise of
pale moon eyes

shadow, shadow
I breathe in this now
exhale the rest, leaving this
heart in your trembling
willowy hands

anneka Oct 2013
Blackness as the
chasm speaks,
language of silence

I am a cactus in the desert
a locked room of centuries old
but my mind forgot the key
is there nobody at all,
at home?

The shadows are gone
not even they would stay
hello, hello
an echo -
you wave it away

desolate; how
my thoughts
they remind me
only, only, only

This was a request from my best friend - I hope you enjoy it as much as she did.
anneka Nov 2013
they never tell you that people come with invisible labels that read 'i will hurt you at some point' and growing up, you eventually realise that everyone has this label, including yourself. because even though you cannot see it or consciously realise it, at some juncture of your life you have wounded another. you might not have meant it, or maybe you did, but the truth is that more often than not we end up hurting the people we care for and try to protect the most.

you will come to a point in your life where you discover that you cannot protect people from yourself, and from thereon you have two choices; give up on everyone and hide in the comfort of your dark, or take the risk and seek the light. of course, most people end up choosing the latter, simply because even though you will be hurt, at the end of everything love is always worth suffering for.


"after all this time and everything he's done to you, it's still him?"

"you can't decipher emotions, and you can't explain love."

anneka Nov 2013
there are seas beneath this skin
tempest roar, crashing waves
soul drowning in empty lungs
stills; only trying to find a way home

some days my heart treads water
and watches the sky rise and fall
some days my heart simply sinks
drowning to the ocean floor

shot core and bullet wound
misery plays your ribcage
like a xylophone duet for two;
past ghosts skim down the spine
raising fears and forgotten time
darling, there was never any me and you

and the thoughts they overwhelm
the image; reflection -  
i have hated, i have loved
the person i have become
standing still at the breaking point
a quiet symphony of self, within solitude

if tears are the language
in which we speak
now forever more cry
or forever hold your peace

see, no matter what i say
i am as fragile, i am as broken
as the day you first tried
to rescue me from
myself, myself, myself

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