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Met you on Thursday,

‘Cause it was the heart day.

You don’t not like so —

Sushi — my type.

For every date, is there anything you’d bite?

Sushi body —
You must like it, right?

Night-long calls,

Somebody’s sleeping tight.

Stories flying high, I rambled on —

The sky my stage,

From page to page.

You must have listened,

Eyes that glow...

Turns out you dozed off long ago.

An EDM show,

A rap girl could try,

The boyfriend — surely I called you mine.

Sat on the shoulders, I do like —

Lovely and muscular!

Same kind of kandi,

But with different colors.

So… can we even get closer?

Got you as my PT,

Promised I’ll never get thinner.

How can I just come to realize I’m not her?

Owned my PT,

My PT likes onnanoko —

Nyotaimori…

Indika shows with DJs we know,

For somehow, we both like Nicky Romero.

Should I go ask him,

Where’s my Romeo?

He plays music,

I got played in your show.

It’s all over,

Indika permanently closed.

Latest post of garage items to be sold.

Separated,

As if we’d never got involved —

Isn’t that easy?

Why can’t I even let it go?

So after all,

Things are now undeniable.

Your hobbies run

As rhythm in my veins —

Up and down,

Echoing my spine.

Countless nights

Wondering why, under ceiling stars,

Your snoring mocked my lonely scars.

I’d rather trade that lo-fi lullaby —

Than this silence

That makes me cry.

You had your ways,

I’d still comply.

Changed my colors,

I’ve always tried!

Finally through the rain,

My tears shed.

She is now

That your rainbow.

I have no idea where to go,

Have a sip at Yoyo?

Our all-time drink:

Mixed Coca-Cola and Strongbow?

No more rides

Around the turtle (lake)!
“Undeniable” was officially featured on the PoetrySoup homepage during the week of June 10th, 2025, as part of their rotating spotlight for selected works.
Thanks for reading! May it resonate with you in some way.
Tuyet Anh Jun 8
Everyone lives in a gutter
I just wanna make
The gutter happier.
That’s my moral compass
Something my teacher
Once told, I remember.

I once lived
Like a sewer rat
Soaked in filth and mud,
Thinking life
Must be the same
For every other rat.

But he showed me
A rat in the rain,
Busy dancing
It meant a lot,
Something.

It’s not about the water,
Nor the grime in the drain;
It’s how you find joy
In pleasure or pain.
(From The Desk Where Mr. C Sat)

— The End —