She has been questioning herself. Questioning her existence, and her position in life? Will she end her poems with (x.o.) or (lunarlullubies)? Why does this darkness thrive within her? How does it manage to feed off her soul so she’ll contract it’s disease and become a permanent part of her? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. All she knows is that somewhere in her mind, there exists an intelligence that no one has ever embraced. She doesn’t use all of it all the time because it would offend some people.

She knows how to love a man properly. She knows how to remember every single detail about him, how his eyes sparkle whenever he’s contented and how they look deep into her when they’re together. She knows. She’ll remember his birthday, their anniversary, his number, his coffee order and even his address because she loves him, and would do anything for him. She would be the one to buy flowers, the one to ask him out on dates. She would be the one.

She looks into the mirror everyday and asks why she can’t be of another race, why she can’t have auburn curls or green eyes, or blue eyes. She wonders why she can’t get rid of her love handles, or her baby fat. She’s the girl in school who embraces many. Who looks up to many. When will anyone look up to her? When will people start asking her where she got her clothes from? Or her inspiration?

She has never been on the logical side, but what she doesn’t have in logic, she makes up for in creativity. Writing poetry, singing, playing instruments and reading have always been her greatest enjoyments. She doesn’t like challenging problem sums or figuring out what the square root of pi is. She wants to look to the other side of life where the complication is low. What she doesn’t understand, is why the education system chooses to make her study mathematics which she clearly doesn’t ace it. She doesn’t understand why her math teacher wouldn’t help her but instead indirectly call her a hopeless case and a sad sob story of great words with high levels of stupidity and ignorance. She doesn’t know. She knows that studying mathematics could have some kind of good impact on her, but she just doesn’t get it. Every problem is twisted like a good mystery. She likes mysteries but can never seem to solve them on her own because she doesn’t have good deduction skills. Her dad told her, “Good deduction skills come from learning mathematics.” and she has been trying to learn. Trying to understand the intricacies of it. She has great ambitions, but the system and the way of society doesn’t let her fulfil those ambitions. They make her value money over happiness, which is something she doesn’t like, but has to believe in. She thinks it’s flawed, and argues about topics like it. She is the president of one of the most underrated clubs in school – the debate club. Some students don’t even know that their school has a debate club. She cries about how things don’t go well. She wants them to improve.

She knows. She knows that someday everything will all change because everyone will grow up one day.



(lunarlullubies)

“Cold snowflakes upon my arm

the winter shine peeking through a crack in the blinds

a breeze of ice engulfing the room through a window left ajar

a land covered in a shiny white blanket.”

Winter has come. Cue the thick padded coats and the parkas of every color of the rainbow! Behold the sleds and skis and the beautiful Siberian huskies who pull them. Await the closing of schools and the temperature drops, keeping people in and making children everywhere euphoric as ever. The time has come for skating upon rivers of ice, and joyous dinners in warm wooly sweaters as families gather around to indulge in the tastiest of food. Fireplaces shall again be lit in all households of old, and stockings hung up early in preparation for Christmas. Happy smiles all around, engaging in snowball fights and the building of snowmen.

Ah but winter is as winter does. As numbers reach the negatives, heaters are turned up to the warmest possible, insulating the beings in a home and using electricity. What about those without a home? Those who are confined to the streets of the city, waiting for the cold to eat their bodies up and leave them in a state of rigidity? They are left to waste. Left to succumb to the bitterness of winter, with no sustenance whatsoever or any form of water to soothe their burning throats. The cold will conceal them in a cover of white death, a prison of snow. And in the early mornings of every winter-filled day, a machine is sent out to collect the bodies of those who have been imprisoned by the winter. The one operating the machine weeps silent tears for these ice prisoners before bringing their poor souls elsewhere.

Winter is two-faced, and she is both beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night.

(lunarlullubies)

I was a tiny fragment of darkness, struggling to find my way in the light. I was evolving, and metamorphozing every minute. My particles broke up into smaller particles and soon I was to become a mere speck of nothing, in this universe of light.

I couldn’t find my way. I was lost.

It concealed me in a shadow of pain. I could feel as it consumed me bit by bit.

Pain, I didn’t know what it was, except that it left me in distress and ice cold tears.

The light seemed to fade.

The pain disappeared, and the mere speck of nothing that I was transcended into the darkness where I really belong.


(lunarlullubies)

It’s New Year’s Eve.*

Cue the colorful ads all around the neighborhood, on park benches and random building pillars, and the commercials of that big city countdown in the middle of town. Cold winter snowflakes still on palms of those trudging through the layers of snow on the streets. The day stretches into the night as half the city prepares for that special midnight moment. Lipsticks applied and makeup spilled, dresses snatched from the stores and shoes grabbed from their shelves. As the hour draws near, everyone is gathered, waiting for the party to begin.

Lights are turned up, adrenaline is rushed, people are hyped and lives are being restored in their dead bodies.

Cheerful voices of the hosts fill the air, and a band plays in the background. Instruments contributing to the life of the party.

11:59 P.M.

Timers are set and cameras are ready.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2…

1!

Sky flowers cover the stars in a burst of sparks, and the sound of cameras snapping photos can be heard among the crying and screaming.

Lips are locked, embraces are warm and photos are Instragram-ed.

The night is young and hearts are joyful.

Such is the beauty of this one night.



(lunarlullubies)

I always told myself to not do something that ****** one’s conscience.

Don’t tear the leaves or flowers from their roots. Do you not hear their screams of white noise and agony? Do you not see their blood drip onto the forest floor as you cared not for them but for your own selfish pleasures, to have their beauty in your hand?

Don’t listen to the voices that resonate off the walls. Do you not understand how that will satiate the undying hunger in the voids of your mind? Do you not know how it will churn your insides and burn the base of your soul?

Don’t look for the things you have lost. Do you not wonder why they would go missing in the first place? Do you not know that the wolves in the base of your spine have been unleashed?

Don’t stare at the beings in the universe around you. Do you not realize the trouble that would put you in? Do you not know that a single misadventure of the eyes will often lead to shiny blades with long handles in your torso?

Don’t overthink at night. Do you not know that the spirits in your atmosphere will steal your thoughts and add nightmares to them so you’ll have bad dreams? Do you not keep your thoughts in golden cages under massive padlocks and curvy keys?



(lunarlullubies)

Amid the millions of snow drops falling from the sky, she awaits reaching home to be with her family on Christmas Day. Her thick coat of fur kept her warm, and her excited beating heart comfy. She turns the key and swings the door open, letting a draft in. "I'm home!" She shouts and happy screams erupt, along with the pitter patter of feet as people run towards the door. She is greeted by her family, with many hugs and kisses. She hangs the coat up and joins them at the dinner table.

A candle-lit feast with delicious roasted turkey and meat of all kinds. She notes that there are at least three different kinds of cheese and an assortment of vegetables and also colorful desserts. The atmosphere was lovely, and laughter filled the air. She ate slowly, relishing every flavor of goodness she tasted. The plates that adorned the table were soon empty in a matter of hours and bellies were filled.

She sat in front of the tree, with beautiful lights in neon colors, and snow angels on every other branch. This was true happiness to her. Shiny baubles and adorable Santas also put a smile on her face. But, the star. Oh that star. It reigned supreme at the crown of the tree, brighter than any other star she'd seen in the night sky. It fueled the Christmas spirit in the house, banishing all negativity. She looked at the foot of the tree, and there they were, carefully wrapped in the prettiest wrapping paper one could ever find. There were designs of the world map, and some others of animals and mythical creatures. They made presents extra special. The family soon joined her, delicately removing the wrappers of their presents. Each sent shivers down spines and initiated a mass hugging session and gratitude. She watched as everyone thanked each other for their lovely gifts, before heading back to the hall to continue with celebrations. She realized that she hasn't yet opened hers and picked up the remaining presents with her name in cursive. Slowly opening each of them, she folded the wrapping papers neatly in a pile beside her. Every one of the presents was specially chosen for her: a book on the universe, a unicorn statue, a top adorned with tiny suns and the most precious of all, a book of photos of the ocean. She loved them, and went to embrace her family members again and thanked them dearly for the presents.

She loved Christmas, but it was ending soon. She said a silent prayer, thanked the stars in her heart and started taking the decorations down one by one.

(lunarlullubies)

call upon me like a sweet, bitter scent

with lovely tingles in every word you speak

the softest lips that i could ever seek,

right in the belly of the beast.



(lunarlullubies)

holed up in a little cottage

she questions her existence

and watched as the wind blew her life away

and took it to the lands beyond far-seeing eyes

deep inside the dark devil’s home where it resided in a glass jar.

her limp body cringed as it writhed in pain from sinew to sinew; crevasse to crevasse and nerve to nerve

she asked, “why?” again as she felt sensations of an unfamiliar sort before falling slumber to the subtle tricks of her mind

and awoke to the screams of her soul as it was ripped from her bodice in strange, unnatural ways

she could only look on as the devil stole it for his own cruel pleasure

and as her body faded into the colors of hell

and burned with the fires that never die.

(lunarlullubies)

i. The calm of the sea calls out to me like a sweet bitter song written on vengeful manuscripts left in a barren recording studio. I lay on the vessel, listening as the sea faeries whisper my name from the sea foam, asking me to stop the vessel I am on. I ignored them, for they are faeries which are clearly a figment of my imagination. The waves grew angry, and the sky overcast. Grey clouds surrounded us and lightning started to strike. A deep hollow sound erupted from somewhere above, and I knew that the faeries were infuriated. I rushed to the captain, a handsome, clean shaven man and begged him to stop the Costa Victoria. At seeing my pathetic self, he agreed to stop it and shut down all engines. The sea grew calm again, but we were stuck in the sea, the captain and I. The crew members were virtually nonexistent, as were the other passengers on board. They, of course, were merely evidence of an earthen world, and with the faeries’ storm, they had ceased to continue existing. I set off for the lifeboats with the captain in hand, a smile plastered on my usually dead face.



ii. Treacherous were the waves that stared back at me when my eyes took a detour out of the balcony. They were harsh and unforgiving, roaring and   rumbling beneath me. They didn’t disappear, but instead swallowed the night whole with an unprecedented strength.



iii. The sea was an endless expanse of black and white anguish, and in the horizon, an unknowing danger loomed, threatening to swallow us up whole if we didn’t continue our speed of 22 knots.



(lunarlullubies)

Did you notice me standing on the sidewalk a little ways from the both of you? I don't know if it was a dream but I remember slicing a part of my arm to let my crimson blood drip onto the ground to mix with precipitation and flow into the sewers to feel something, to feel confirmation that it was only a dream. I felt the pain, saw the blood and still you were there, intertwined around her like ribbon around a gift. I think of the times when you showed up right outside my door, looking desperate and deprived, and I still catered to your every need even though a little voice in my head screamed STOP HE'S USING YOU as it cut into my nerves and shook my conscience. Yet I broke all the rules for you, committing modern day badass-ery. And even now I question you on whether you would break your clock and volunteer time you didn't have for me. You wouldn't, I think, you didn't even speak to me and you answer awkwardly, like snakes were choking you and constricting your windpipe and as if acid were burning your larynx to the point of muting you when I did. I stopped questioning you and let you be for a very long while even though the little voice protested that I should think for myself. You seeing me started becoming a privilege because you only showed up once in a while to lock lips and embrace me. I don't remember a single day where all we did was just get ice-creams and chill somewhere with the company of only each other.

I was used and boy is it emphasized as you stand a little ways from me, wrapped around her.

I see you kissing her like how you kissed me, putting your arms around her like how you did me. But will she ever know how the love I had for you engulfed you in a dark shadow, stretching to the galaxies beyond and appealing to the moon for it's blessing? I knew, from that moment on, that loving you is mistake I will never make again. Even if I'm breaking down at 2 am suppers, consuming yogurt by the tub and pulling all of my hair out because of that one kiss I saw you share with someone I trusted, I will never tear my heart in two ever again just to share a piece with you for I know you won't care for it. Don't burn me with the memories we had since I have set them on fire the moment I saw you and her.

But I don't have the strength to keep myself standing upright as I stand a little ways from you wrapped around her, and I crumble to the ground, shattering into ash...

(lunarlullubies)

Never have I seen such a fine immaculate thing such as yourself.
With impeccable features on every part of you.
Intricate hairlines with the same latitude as Montego Bay.
Wavy curls that go like the Pacific Ocean.
Soft and tiny hands with moisture abound that make my skin tingle at your touch.
Your scent – lingers around you like a fresh rose: thorn-free and beautiful. It intoxicates me and exhilarates my senses, refreshing my mind and bringing me into overdrive.
This is how you are.

(lunarlullubies)

Golden brown, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie staring at you from the dinner table. We give gratitude to everything good that has ever happened to us. The date, an indecisive number, moves back one every year until 22, then it moves up to 28 again. The family gathers round and say their thank yous before the glorious feast and parades are heard out on the streets. Everyone is hugged and kissed before the beautiful day after Thanksgiving begins and people can flock the stores they love.

(lunarlullubies)

Why do I envision you on top of me?

Why do I crave the feelings we might both feel?

I see you in the dark lit club we frequent and I know.

I know you want me, and I made it obvious that I want you too.

Now follow me.

Follow my voice.

Are you ready?

Bodies touching, hearts beating, lips pressed against each other.

Arms wrapped, legs intertwined.

My skin interlaced with yours.

Warm breaths on your neck, irresistible whispers in your ear.

Count the thrusts with me.

One, your body convulses

Two, you gasp

Three, you call my name

Four, you grip the sheets

Five, you shout something inaudible to the stars above

Six, you whisper a word of gratitude

Seven, you thank me again with your lips on mine.



(lunarlullubies)

Silence me with handwritten notes on small books and blank paper and bury them with me if I should die tonight. My soul will take them to the nether regions where they will be preserved. But if I should lose them, find them and get them back to me.
For they are as precious as the jewels of the earth, and as beautiful as the complexities of your mind. Now I rather I never wrote them for I might still be breathing the breaths I barely ever did.
So watch me as my dying soul breaks my fragile bodice and sends it to the hell where you are not present.

(lunarlullubies & forsakengirlhue)

She was interested in the world and its history,

even those from way before the age of men.

She wondered about dragons and wizards and magical things like unicorns.

She was never really interested in the logical explanations of mathematical equations and the language of communism;

she only craved learning about history.

Indiana Jones was and still is her inspiration and idol,

leaving her in awe with his knowledge.

She could never express herself in the light strokes of paintbrushes,

but could only write – poems and stories, and beautiful adoxography adorned her notes and paper

She even filled her wall with them.



(lunarlullubies)

Stalking silently, the predator watches in the deep.
Noticing your every move
Craving your every scent
The predator knows your fear.
He feels it in the air like a virus.
You can’t evade him.



(lunarlullubies)

I feel jealous* of the shirt that clings ever so tightly to you because it does a better job than my weak arms ever did.

I feel jealous of the belt that holds your pants up in immeasurable strength that I could never defeat.

I feel jealous of the watch you look at every other minute because I know you will never look at me like that ever again.

I am jealous of the articles you call your own, because I will never be.



(lunarlullubies)

i. The rumble of thunder signified a storm.

ii. The rain fell like my soul onto the withering ground.

iii. I watched as every drop fell like eternity.

iv. A flash of light, a deep, dull sound and the crash of air.

v. Her heart beat in unison with the happenings of the sky.

vi. Gravity pulled the rain right out of the sky, onto the world below.



(lunarlullubies)

All is lost for I still look to you for comfort even if it's just taking a mental picture of you. I remember everything - from the scent of your skin to the way you walk. I tried so hard, to mask the pain, to forget the memories, but all is in vain. How can one forget something that was a part of her mind, covered in tissue and broken memory? I've torn my head and heart in two just so I could keep you in my thoughts. I've ignored advice and left tensions in conversations just so I could still be yours. But you've convinced me time and time again that all I've done has gone to waste. You've gone ahead to plant your lips on another so ask me why I still care. It might be the flowers you grew in my heart or the wind that blew me away, but i knew from the first glance I would protect your heart if it were mine to keep. But you took your heart back and gave it to another, leaving my arms empty and mind delirious.

I was young and foolish, but I'd love you despite what you've done.



(lunarlullubies)

A whip across multiple hearts

A kick to the knees

A bullet to the head

A knife upon tongues

An end to all pain would be to look for Death himself



(lunarlullubies)