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Poems & Proses

And so, I decided to write in here, again. This will be a platform for me to share my work of poetry though, shall not be your typical blog post stories. You are welcome to read them --just thought of sharing my work instead of leaving them in my trashy poetry notebook, unread. In fact, this blog is meant to tell you the story behind my work of poetry in clearer details. I hope you can bare with my words and I really appreciate if you could share some love, please no hate. Until then, enjoy reading to the fullest! xx
Recent posts

Cinderella

Cinderella inspired me a lot.
I had a thought that maybe my life would turn out like hers, someday? 



If the slipper fits,
Then why am I running?
Away from people, away from him?

If the slipper fits,
Then why do I keep dreaming?
About the ball, about the prince charming.

If the slipper fits,
Then why can't I stop dancing?
To a waltz, to a magical feeling.

If the slipper fits,
Then why am I still waiting?
Take the glass slipper, take it to him.

If the slipper fits,
Then perhaps I should start singing?
On my way to his castle, to my happy ending.

Merry-go-Round

Expected and going nowhere is my favourite kind of commitment.
Perhaps, I only like the thrill of the chase? 


Chasing after him is like riding a carousell --a never ending ride of going nowhere and you'll never know when it stops. And so, you'll go round and round and round and round, merrily until you get dizzy and then, it finally hit you; Why on Earth would you want to make yourself sick by going on this ride?

Logophile

I was infatuated with his words.
Words that can make me ache for something I'd lust for.


I knew he was a bad idea. But his words --there's something about his words that kept me coming back for more. They're mean yet flattering, silly yet charming and ..oh plain bad yet enticing! He carved them simply for an amusement with sly flirtation in between, taking me high in ecstasy as I became fixated on them. Like drugs, I was lusting after of how they can make me feel --addictive yet satisfying. I wanted more and so, he drugged me with them until he ran out and unconsciously, I'm overdosed.

NYC

Concrete jungle where dreams are made of.
If he promised me, New York ..I'd promise him, me.



Take me to New York City,
Take my hand and let's run away.
Let others say what they wanna say,
We'll make history starting from today,
Here in a city we love, we should stay.

Take me to New York City,
Take my hand and let's go, bae.
Just me and you, down and all the way,
From day to night, night to day,
Here where we make endless love as we lay.

Under the city lights --of New York City.



Writing You Out

Writing is an underestimated art.
To the one who once asked me to write something, this one's for you.


You once told me to write something about you. I laughed at that moment, thinking that I couldn't write you out. I wanted to but I refused. Because to me, writing means forgetting and I didn't want to forget you, not just yet.
But guess what? I'm writing this one out for you. I'm writing you out of how you made me feel lucky to have you even just for a little while. I'm writing you out to remind me that I wasn't alone every single night with having you from the other side. I'm writing you out to reminisce me of all the words you once drew to make my heart flutter like it's true. I'm writing you out to make me recognize you in my mind, over and over again, if only you knew.
Indeed, writing means forgetting but somehow, writing you out means remembering, missing and hoping.

Stills

Though he did hurt me a lot.
Some of the good memories I had with him are worth remembering.


In my mind, memories were playing --like a film reeling in a slow motion with my favourite genres of romance; of all those kisses I've missed, fantasy; of all those dreams I once painted with you and adventure; of all those crazy silly things we did when we were madly in love. And all of the best parts in the film were being put on pause to keep me smiling like an idiot. Why?
Because they were best kept as stills --stills of you.

An Ugly Act of an Actor

My ex was such a great pretender, fooled me good but not for long. So, I came up with this. Also, a theatrical theme because I love plays!


The curtain's down as it reached the end, An act so hideous pulled off by a decent man, Hear the applause he received from the crowd, Of what he deserve, in hell he should rot!
Without a script, he played so well, But of course, one day his performance fell, While still pulling a mask of an innocent, By the end of the show, it all has burnt.
"Wow, such a great actor, he is!" Give it a clap now if you're pleased, His show is over and time to reveal, All of his ugly sins, he securely sealed.
Little did he knew, he bow down in shame, As everyone sees of what he truly became, "Get off the stage now, you filthy actor!" "You should acted a lot more better!"


Tsunami

You know what happen when you meet your ultimate dream guy?
Love at first sight happens.


First, it was a splash as I saw you, standing tall before me. 
Then, it came with a big wave as you mesmerized me with a handsome smile. 
And it takes only a second when it swallowed me whole like a tsunami! 
I was drowning to have a special kind of feeling right when I heard my name said on your lips, as you greeted me with a simple gesture of a suave handshake. You hit me with a catastrophe that made me unsure of surviving. 
Is this a tragedy of love at first sight?  I guess it is right.

Smokes & Skin

Another chapter for my bad boy persona.
Brokenhearted by regrets is his best skill to feel.


His love had to leave. She had to leave.
All that's left for him is his regrets in every cigarette he took. And memories of her, her name, the initial --scarred as a tattoo on his skin, achingly forever.

Counting Petals

Long distance kills and so, I wrote this --a past lover of mine were miles away and I just couldn't stop myself from missing him.


Petals, Sticking to a flower, Beautiful but brings me sorrow. As I'm counting them to wait, For that moment I called, fate.
I count the days with those petals, One by one, I started to pluck, With my heart hoping for a luck. For every petal carries a hope, Please to know that I can't cope, Anymore, Any longer, Because with you around, I am much stronger.
I want you to meet me again, Like a drought waiting for the rain, You fall to my hand once again. And as for those petals I count, I wish they will never be found, For pain lies in every one of it, Leading a pathway for a quit.
But I don't want to quit! I want to keep waiting, Sitting, Pacing. I'm here to have you back, And you shall bring the light, Of my days shaded in black.
Petals, They flew far away, As the wind blow in a sway. So shall they wilted in gray. Don't remind me of the counting act, Don't let my h…

A Night's Dream

A night came for a dream.
I just had to tell a tale of it, it seems?


Goodnight, goodnight!
The night seems cold,
Let the dream cradles you,
Into a fantasy untold.

The dark was once bright,
Shimmering in gold,
What else could you do?
But to free your flying soul.

One to explore without a guide,
Cloud of wanders yet to hold,
While it is a land far from true,
Only the night could take you whole.

Let the dream sway you into the night,
As smile carved and tears rolled,
Indeed this is just a dream for you,
And I'd say goodnight to you too.

Temporary Lovers

This guy I knew was charming and he was my best companion ever. Unfortunately, he belongs to someone else.


He tells a joke but it wasn't her laugh and he knew. She giggles coyly but it wasn't his joke she laughed to. 
She wasn't his current and he wasn't her previous but they were both lonely, at the same time and for an impeccable reason --fate let them meet for a while to fill the empty void.
They shared stories of wonders to tell even though they seems to be strangers with love to sell, throwing away feelings without having to feel, never thought for a second it was real.
They were happy to be around each other but nothing lasts forever for he will have his girl crawling back to his arms and she will have another guy who deserves her at her best to move on.
They were meant for each other but never in love, simply they were just temporary lovers who seeks for the love they couldn't get enough of.

Unrequited

If only he knew my words are true.
And my words are all meant for him.



I write and write,
From day to night.

I write my heart out,
And you it's all about.

I write to make you see,
Still I can't make you love me.

Black Hole

He created a gap to tell me it's over.
But I got lost each time he said I should leave.


Can you feel this empty void?
The more I let go, the bigger it becomes, the more it pulls me in --sucking me in vortex that I, myself could get lost in it. It's in your grasp, I cling to. I thought you could hold me back from falling but your grip --it's slowly loosening and letting me tumble into this massive black hole you purposely created.

Written in My Heart

Is this love or am I just catching feelings?
I turn him into an art when I'm clueless to know the real meaning.



How can I explain this feeling?
To feel yet to know if it's real.

A strange feeling of missing someone,
Though he's here and never gone.

He knew nothing of this longing,
I don't know where this is going.

So then I wrote him in my heart,
To turn this feeling into an art.

Haunted

Forgetting him would be the hardest thing to do.
Because I can't seem to get him out of my head.


How do you forget someone?
A question I hardly know the answer. Because the truth is ..you can't. Not when he gave you so much to remember.
No matter how hard you try to erase the thought of him, he'll still be there --haunting you with remnants of the past. So tell me, how do you forget someone without having to see him in your mind at the mention of his name or when a certain song playing on the radio, it reminds you of him or when you walk pass by a store, his cologne scent suddenly engulfs your senses or when you think of NYC, his voice ringing, "Let's go, babe!" in your head?
How do you do that? How do you stop someone from haunting you?
Because even though, he isn't here anymore, his ghost keep following me wherever I go as if he has an unfinished business with me. I can see him everywhere in the streets, under the city lights, on the passenger seat, the empty …

Muses

When being asked who are my muses, I have to say ..all of you. These hands just couldn't stop writing when you came to me with an inspiring tale.


Muses? I have a lot of them and I'm not ashamed of it. I can't tell you their names but I can tell you this --he'll be the one who I used to love, the one I left for another, the one I cheated on, the one I secretly in love with but can't call my own, the one who fill in my loneliness at night, the one who I think is a nuisance of wanting my attention, the one who I smiled at when we cross path, the one who I laid eyes on while sipping my favourite frap at Starbucks. Indeed, he can be anyone at all. Anyone that I have encountered at least once or twice or more in my life.
And truthfully, I use them without permission to get inspired. Well, isn't that what a muse's job is? To be the source of inspiration to a starving poet like me who feeds on inspirations and turn living souls into poems? My guess is that they didn&#…

Virtuoso, the Soul Taker

Pianist has always been my favourite virtuoso. I once dreamt of having someone serenade me with a beautiful music played on the piano.


I was trapped within a crowd of waltz dancers whom faces are etched with emptiness as if their souls were taken away by each note of music being played. Faceless with no eyes to see but for a moment, the music stopped --they paused. And I felt as if they were looking straight at me, every single one of those tortured dancing men and women. With the silence surrounded us, they craved for my help, begging me to get their feet to stop dancing. I shuddered in fear but as the music began to play once more, the art of waltz continues, unwillingly by them. They seemed to be lost in the music again, it was haunting them in a strange way that I could not understand why. I tried to help but it was no use as they could not hear me --they could only hear the background music. 
And then, the orchestral music disappeared and the dancers were flown away. Immediately, I …

Say It

To the guy who has my heart but fell for another.
I was too late to realize my own feelings.


I want to say, "I miss you."
but surely, you wouldn't believe it.

I want to say, "Stay, don't leave me."
but you would rather walk away with it.

I want to say, "I love you."
but it's too late, your heart belongs to her, isn't it?

Beast

Another night to waste for wild thoughts.
He was a beast and perhaps, I was his beauty?



He knew she was toxic,
It was a bad, dirty idea,
But he let his mind consume anyway.

The thought of her fingers,
Dancing on his tattooed skin,
Intriguing enough to unleash the beast within.

Sunset of You

Why is it that every time I look at the sunset, I will immediately think of him? Memories of him were gold that I just couldn't get my eyes off.


I caught myself staring at the sunset again to reminisce about the memories I once had with you. Just like the sunset, you were beautiful and only last for a short while but for what it's worth, it happened. 
You happened.

Silly Novel

I used to have a diary where I would write everything about him.
Funny to have recalled old memories of innocent love.


I still remember, for days after you left, I turned to my diary to remind me of you and it's like reading an aching novel that has quite a sad ending to tell. Eyes soaked in tears, wishing that everything written in the diary will reel in my life back again with you as my hero. 
But it all has changed now. 
Turning to my diary is like turning to something nostalgic with humorous tale badly written --of how one could be silly enough to be in love with someone so ridiculous. I laugh to it as my mind reminiscing the memories I once had, like reading a sappy yet trashy novel that got you to say, "What the hell was she thinking?" 
But I guess that's what you called as love. It made you do silly things like writing a silly novel that could have gotten a better ending.

Dedication

My words are all I have to offer.
To write is probably the most sincere thing I could ever done for someone.



It'll be a long night and she knew,
To write this story of you.

It won't be a page or two,
She'll write a book for you.

Not O.K

I have yet to find someone who cares.
Someone whose arms is a place where I would finally find that everything is O.K.



"Are you O.K?"

That's all it takes.

That's the only question she was waiting for someone to finally say it to her face. But she could only smile as a reply --thus, giving a million reasons for him to put his arms around her.

She wants him to lift out the weight on her shoulder because it's in his arms where she'll find comfort and peace to ease her beaten but broken heart --it's where she'll find a place to be O.K. with not being O.K.

Chinese Lullaby

God! I blame my Chinese dream guy for this.
A mandarin song that sings his voice couldn't be more soothing and inspiring eh?


Like a singing bird in the morning,
You whistle a song for me to hear.

我爱你 Wo ai ni, it sounds enchanting,
Letting me smile coated with cheer.

In between the lines, I was yearning,
Of your voice and touch to hold me here.

And your Chinese lullaby keep on playing,
To shower me with love from someone so dear.

Night Charmer

Wonderful, isn't it? To have a beautiful creature called muse that made words flowing in your veins, indefinitely. A perfect poem description of the muse in the short story scrap I once wrote.



The taste of his kiss, it's deadly.
A lethal weapon that could kill me.

Like a poison calls for no mercy,
In a flash moment, it stings me.


The tone of his voice, it's inviting.
A sly invitation to where, I can't resist.

He rings as a dangerous calling,
My heartbeat skips, to that whisper of his.


The stars in his eyes, it's heavenly.
A gateway to a world, which I travel in.

Though his stare gleams a dream for me,
Lost my way to infinity and within.

Rose

Beauty comes with a price.
Desiring something beautiful is just not that easy.



A lovely rose, she was.
As he saw her from afar,
Of how he wanted her so badly,
But only to know they were thorns,
For he had to bleed himself, tremendously.

Nasty Little Poetess

Every poet is nasty. They make up words --stealing them from every single damned being they have encountered. 


I don't want your love, I want your egotistical to drive me mad. I don't want your touch, I just want to feel your whisper of sweet nothings bathing over me. I don't want your promises, I want all of your lies to sugar-coated me. I don't want your attention, I badly want your ignorance to keep me starving for days. What I want? I certainly don't want you but I want what I want from you. For I am that one nasty little poetess you knew quite well who will suck inspirations out of you --to get my fingers dancing on the papers with words and oh! nothing but words while my heart burning down in flames for you.

Bad Habits

He couldn't quit me but selfishly made the decision to quit, anyway.
But I'm like a drug that kept him coming back for more.


He quit you.
Even though you thought you were his cigarette that he lighted up,  smoking high, finding escape, one puff after another, an ecstasy to him. 
And you thought you were his tattoo that he inked for fun,  permanently beautiful, carved on skin, one art after another, an obsession to him. 
You also thought you were his booze that he drank on lonely nights,  feeling less sober, drunkenly dreaming, one sip after another, an addiction to him.
You knew it's a never for him to quit smoking or carving tattoos and even getting wasted.  But he quit you.
Maybe you're more than a cigarette he took everyday.  You flew him high in a twist of fate, you were his sweet escape. 
Maybe you're more than a tattoo on his skin. Your name is written on his heart once he learn to say it often, you were his art.
Maybe you're more than a liquor he had for a company. You …

2 am.

A night drive with him seems a good idea.
For I crave a little night adventure. 



It was only on that night of where our dreams collide. A spontaneous adventure for a meet until dawn arisen and "Goodbye" he ought to bid. Why do I remember in every detail? From the tone of his laughter to the sly smile he donned after, wishing I could live the night forever. From the light in his cigarette to the trail of our long ride and the wheels were spinning as they glide, to the dull conversation we never have to hide. And in that moment, I felt so as I saw --in his eyes of such hopes were shining, bewildered me as he gave that one last look, no longer there was a heartbeat, away he took.

Nicotine Dreams

Bad boy is my favourite kind of persona.
With a story of regret when it comes to love because he surely sucks at it.


Of dimmed lights, flickered a hope.
An empty bed, a lonely night to cope.
The cigarettes, his regrets.
The air it chokes, his mind rather his throat.
Of stills running wild, inside his thoughts.
Her touch, a little too much.
Her smile, oh he can't help but to smile!
Her lips, yes, he tasted it.
The heat, drips sweat down his naked torso.
To think she would come back,
To his arms, to his side, to his bed,
And walk back to his door,
But darling, there she goes.

To Write or Not to Write?

My muse confuses me, sometimes. And I can't help but to change the way I write.



Minutes ago, I knew exactly what to write. I had these mixed feelings of melancholy and rage of getting ignored by you.
Seconds ago, you rang me. "Sorry, couldn't get to you earlier. How was your day?"
These feelings I have are fluttering from the inside as if butterflies filling up my tummy.  Honestly, I have no idea what to write now.

Yin Yang

I believe there is a dark and a light side in every soul.
Balance them both and that what makes you a human.



I will fall by night, 
You will illuminate the dark.

And I shall sink by dawn, 
You will rise to shine.

I am You and You are I.
We are of the same.

And without one another,
We couldn't possibly exist as one.

Pretty Things

Quite the truth eh? 
You write beautifully when you're in love as well as during a heartbreak.



I write of what I ought to feel, 
When he first left me to let alone, heal. 

I turned him into a work of art, 
Of words from the heart I can no longer guard. 

And if he ever ask and wonder why? 
Words are pretty things I replace for a cry. 

While these words made people call him mean, 
But hey, pretty things deserve to make a scene.

The Wanderer

For a wanderer, I often travel to places I have yet to love.
And maybe, one day I will travel to a place where my heart belongs to?


I will travel to you.
I will let you take my hand and bring me to countless, spontaneous adventures, from day to night with you by my side. We will make memories together as our eyes met on sunrise and lips sealed on sunset. And when we parted, I will remind you the best place I've been to isn't one of those places I've seen with my eyes but felt with my heart, instead. The place is in you. 
So darling, let me travel to you.

In The Night

I once had a lover who was afraid of the dark. 
And my attempt of becoming his light are through these words.



In the night, 
The stars scattered in the sky, 
As well as the moon stood up high. 
Creepers of the night usually passing by, 
Making the weak-hearted started to sigh. 

In the night, 
You close your eyes and shut them tight, 
I’m here for you now it'll be alright.
Only dark will been seen for the sight,
Hoping that nothing will give you a fright. 

In the night, 
Let the shadows passed through, 
Lurking in the darkness as we knew. 
But care not to be scared as it drew, 
For all those will be turning to the untrue. 

In the night, 
Just stare deep into my eyes, 
Hold my hand until the Sun arise. 
The night slowly fading as time flies, 
Chase away all the devils in disguise. 

In the night, 
I will be by your side, 
Nowhere near but still tied, 
To a chain that is unbreakable by tide, 
It only takes once our hearts collide. 

In the night, 
I pray to let you banish your fear, 
A whisper of words singing to …

Home

They say home isn't a place but it's 2 eyes and a heartbeat. You know when you hear a certain song and the lyrics just sinks deep in you. This is where I got it from, a song called Home by MGK. 


I needed an escape,
A journey to find a place,
Along this maze,
Somewhere safe,
Somewhere new,
Until then,
I'll walk,
I'll run if I had to, 
Right to you,
A place I belong to, 
Not to go to,
Take me home,
Take me to you.

She is Art & Art is Love

I for one is an absolute art lover. 
I don't know why but it's quite amazing if anyone ever describe me as an art.


He didn't quite understand how she is so fascinated with art. Perhaps it was the strokes in each painting, the story behind the creation or the colours and forms used to make it work as art itself? That awed look she dons every time they visit an art museum, makes it hard for him to decipher why art is love to her.
Perhaps that's how people look at him as he stares at her, sometimes in bewilderment. She's like an art to him --a masterpiece that he couldn't possibly figure out why it was interesting enough to make him fall in love, anyway.

Sunset

I wanted my mind to take me back momentarily to where it was before --when everything is as beautiful as the Sunset.


You know that feeling when you watch the sun slowly sets in the late evening? For a second there, it's like taking you back to a nostalgic lane. A scenic view for you to just enjoy as how your mind reminiscing you of all the beautiful memories once reeled in your past.
It lasted only for a short time but for what it's worth, it actually made you smile knowing that you have had the best memories treasured forever.
As the Sun fades away, leave it all behind because the show is over. While it may lured you enough to not move, just remember memories are only meant to be a visiting spot not a destination you ought to stay.

Just Another Guy

Another day, another guy, another muse.
This is literally everyone's favourite of my interpretation of muse.


I wish you wouldn't be just another guy who says he'll stay but later, astray. Just another guy who wishes goodnight but never by my side. The one who keeps me laughing but in the end, we're completely nothing. Indeed, you were just another guy who saw me and came by --to be just another guy I called a muse, letting my hand to write and my heart to bruise.

Someone I Miss

Missing him is slowly becoming a bad habit.
So then, I write this out to remind me not to miss him again and again.



There's a feeling I could not resist, to say it right while being fine.

I shudder to the least, saying "I miss you" for the first time.

But who am I to miss? When you're someone, not even mine.