Oh the things I'd do –
the things I've done for a love.
Frequent trips one, two, three.
You see, we met so very strangely and brief
But it was easy.
He liked my words; and me? His story.
He was twenty three and I, seventeen.
And boy was he in love with me.
Oh yes, in love with me. He'd gone from time to time;
embarrassed and ashamed –
lover boy of mine.
It didn't make sense to him, you see.
He was twenty three and I, nobody.
Come day three,
he had the world, and me? My words.
Oh and how these lines came out my mind so eloquently.
With more than delight, he wallowed in them
oh, glory.
And I? His evergreen.
Hither day two,
he had the world, and me? My mind.
Oh and how it was a melody intertwined with thoughts
– and him.
I think and I thought, I think and I thought of him.
And how he adored my thoughts, and how I'd write
of him.
But no I, no, not this time.
And then one,
he had the world,
my words,
my lines,
my thoughts,
my mind.
And I? A story.
But in my lover's story, there was no he
and I.
Three, two, one
he was twenty four and I, a fool once more.

"Come home with me.. Please."

14

"These aren't for me," you said. "Yes, they are!", appalled I was as I continued to try to prove to you that my intentions were real and they were true. We then met by the river and you told me I looked smaller than you'd imagine me to be. Somehow, it was then, that I was smitten. You were just like what you seem but at the very same time not at all alike. "Not everyone understands this." Yes, not everyone understands me, or you, or us. Hoped that I could see you the day after or some time soon, "maybe." You said you'd visit.. soon. Back to my hotel room, lonely and cold. "Go swimming tomorrow," your text read. I stayed up thinking of things to say, a note to leave you, the very next day. "Going swimming today?" appeared on my screen. I said I didn't know how to swim, silly. Didn't I say that the other day? Of course, that was the last I heard from you, not even a goodbye. That was the end of your story but not how you wrote it. Two people just part their separate ways. I still await the day you'd write about how you left me hanging, telling me to go away. "Tell me when you're in town," months later you said. Months I spent thinking damn, I became the fool. The fool.. once again. I may have been your story but not again. I'm more than just an ending to your little game. Though I hope you've had your fun during your 30 seconds of fame. It's two days away, but happy birthday. I don't miss your interest in the things I have to say or the way you held your gaze. I don't miss our conversations, your stories or that you made mine yours. I don't miss you, especially not that day. Happy birthday, I don't miss you in any way.

I cannot love you if you love the rain

I cannot love you if you love the rain,

Because the rain 

dissolves every living ounce of 

my beating heart

its essence unable to gush 

It'll seep through my skin 

and drown my insides 

with its sorrowful nothingness

leaving me lie in a puddle of emptiness 

instilling forgotten sins to consume me

I cannot love you if you love the rain,

Because you see, you'll see

the unwantedness of me that the rain,

the rain pours down for the world to see.

Fluctuate, my heart, till it no more beats 

I cannot love you if you love the rain; 

Because you will not love me. 

Not after you see 

of all the things the rain makes me;

You cannot love me. 

#3

you.

me.

on a purple island of 

serendipity.

deep chardonnay flowing

ocean.

your suaveness caught 

me

you

on a purple island of

rebellion.

trees were dry,

sand was diamond.

ran and ran

we went to where

you 

me

on a purple island of

hopelessness.

sweet surrender

but where was

happy

you 

me 

on a purple island of

serenity.

caressed by deep

burgundy.

what was left of 

you

me 

that purple island of

what could never be.

you have awaken

fading with the dandelion

leaves

there was no

more

you 

me

that purple

island.

Now, remember that day we were talking about birthdays, yours, mine, how I had to wait another year till mine? We were just back from our island getaway and the sound of 5am waves echoing in my head as I reminisced the long weekend of my birthday, spent only with us. We sat at the very front left corner of the unsightly white-walled room paying no attention to our surroundings whatsoever and you said to me,

"Everyday is your birthday.. I'll make sure,"

Every morning after I woke up to a 'good morning girl, happy birthday!'
That recollection has left me unable to be conscientious to these chemical equations in front of me.
Why wouldn't they just leave already? Like you did.






I wish to forget.

Thoughts of you kept me up tonight as I find myself wanting to hear you speak. Listened to you sing in the end; I'm ready to go to sleep. It's 2.26am and just like the way I used to stay up and eventually fall asleep while you stay awake for your strange work hours, good night.

How do you appear on mountains in the desert too?