Apathy.

It's much too soon
For me to be feeling this way
About you.
And I'm not talking about
The overwhelming way our minds
And bodies
Seem to connect as if
Soulmates were real.

I'm talking about
How I'm starting to care less,
Every time I have to forgive you more.

Bittersweet.

Being in love with you is like
Watching the sunset on a Sunday evening,
And admiring the beauty of the hues
Of purple and pink.
Yet your heart aches
As the sun sinks lower,
Because you know that
Something that beautiful never really lasts.

Chronological.

I know I was too late
To be your first,
But may I please
Be your last?

Crack.

Eggshells
Are always
S p r a w l e d
Beneath my soles,
But I've grown tense
With the anxiety and overwhelming fear
Of breaking the fragility.

It is exhaustive to have your own
h a p p i n e s s
Dictated and controlled by the
Happiness
Of someone else,

To have your freedom
Only earned
When you make
The right moves
Or say
The right words.

Unconditional.

She loved him the way spring loved winter,
Filling in his barren spots,
With seeds of roses and other flowers,
Her warmth caressing away his frost.

She forgave him every time he destroyed her flowers,
At first she was distraught by the pain,
But with every single passing hour,
She promised to plant them all again.

Utopia.

I wish I could build a wall around us,
To shield us from the chaos.
We could build a blanket fortress,
And use pillows to dampen the noise
Of the irrelevant words that do nothing
But harm us
And stop us
From being what we could potentially become.
Against the storms and blizzards
That whip and tear at our dome,
We will create fire through love and passion,
And make that fort our home.

Perspective.

I wish I could see
What you see in me,
So that I can understand
Why you're choosing to stay
With someone that is broken
In so many ways.

Eyes.

I lay in bed shrouded by the darkness,
The comforting hum of cars passing by.
I am protected against the winter cold,
Underneath the warm blankets,
While being wrapped in your arms.

"It's a wonder how beautiful the stars are tonight",
I whispered, my lips grazing against his.
He chuckled gently,
Brushing wisps of hair away from my face.
"The clouds are so heavy tonight,
The stars can't be seen".
I peered out from underneath my heavy eyelids
And started into his eyes
As they twinkled
Against the city lights.

"Oh. But I see them". 

Note to self:

• Give this boy everything and more than he deserves. Love him unconditionally with the most utmost form of care and affection, and fuel him with the type of support that will propel him up into the midnight sky collecting stars.


• Let him go when he wants to leave so that he can find someone who won't weigh him down after he's learnt to fly from you. Leave behind traces of you within him so that one day he can look back at your love and be grateful that fate once brought you two together.


• The pain will be raw, but let your wounds heal and let your battle scars be a reminder for yourself when you find your next lover: find someone who can be your immediate and everlasting remedy for your chaos. Someone who will be brave enough to adamantly take your hand and pull you out from the darkness.


• This boy might not be your forever, but love him like he will be. 

Okay.

Your promise of forever
Haunts me at 3:00 AM
When I question whether or not you still think of her
When I'm not good enough.

Hopeless and Helpless.

Helplessness
Is when you have to sacrifice your own wellbeing,
For the wellbeing of someone else
Who destroys you to control you.

Hopelessness
Is when the person who claims to love you,
Can't even save you from your destroyer,
But instead turns around as you get destroyed.

Disregard.

I give you my all,
Only to have you watch me fall.

Collateral.

"I'm sorry", he whispered regretfully. It was the first time he had broken her heart. The one she so confidently placed into his gentle hands the night they fell in love underneath the stars.

She looked into his deep, brown eyes that were delicately framed by his long eyelashes. She loved his eyes the most - the way they searched her face, the way they creased at the corners when he laughed, and the way they darkened when he wanted her.

"I forgave you before you even apologized", she answered, brushing her thumb over his cheek as he held her close to him.

And as those words escaped from her thin, fragile lips, she realized how vulnerable she had become with him: she had given him the ability to break her, and all she would ever do is ensure that he isn't hurt in the process of her own putrefaction.

Caged.

When I was five,
It was discipline.
I didn't know any better,
And to learn, I had to listen.
So when I started to wear dresses,
When I loved my ripped jeans,
I learnt that it was wrong
To wear what you loved.

When I was ten,
It was rebellion.
My friends were toxic,
And time spent with them
Meant disrespect and disobedience
For neglecting her.
I learnt that hanging out on Fridays,
Meant coming home to a monster.
So I stayed home.

When I was fifteen,
It was acceptance.
While the world was being plastered
With the importance of self-love,
I was taught that my thighs were too big,
My stomach was too puffy,
And to be loved,
I needed to be a size 2.
I learnt that the body defines who you are,
And that I was worthless.

When I was sixteen,
It was adulthood.
I grew up too soon,
And bore responsibilities that were too large
For my own hands to grasp.
But that wasn't her fault,
Yet somehow it was mine.
"It was from the stress of taking care of you".
I learnt that guilt is enough to eat you raw,
At 3 AM in the morning,
When the tears stain your pillow as you realize
That you owe her rather than love her.

When I was eighteen,
It was control.
Your dependence on me,
Stripped away my own independence.
I was incapable of living,
To the point where loving someone else
Other than you,
Felt like a crime.
I learnt that your acceptance
Dictated my own happiness.
But I never had your acceptance.

When I was twenty one,
I learnt that
I'm still five, dressing to please her.
I'm still ten, staying at home to avoid the monster.
I'm still fifteen, hating my own body.
I'm still sixteen, drowning in the debt of the life she gave me.
I'm still eighteen, seeking for her constant approval which I will never receive.
And she's still her.

I am twenty one,
And it is overwhelming.
In her hands
She holds my self-esteem,
She holds my courage,
She holds my independence.
In my hands,
I hold the keys to escape
The cage that she's trapped me in
For twenty one years.
Yet somehow I know I'll be here
For at least twenty two.

Opaque.

You could speak to me a thousand lies,
And every time I would see them through,
I'd let them wind and interlace,
Until they separate
Me
From
You.

Presence.

I want to feel you linger,
Even when we're no longer.

A(void).

Usually words just flow,
When I want to write.
But tonight I'm stuck in
A void where words don't seem to exist.

You're in that void,
And somehow,
When all words are lost,
Your eyes
Are the most beautiful story I've ever read.

Fire.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes flickering with worry as he cupped her cheek in his hands.

They fit perfectly in so many ways: his shoulder dipping quintessentially for when she leaned against him; their hands fitting just right when their fingers intertwined; their bodies conforming flawlessly against each other when he held her against his chest.

"Nothing." she replied, her mouth twitching into a small, sad smile.

She was a pandora box that he was perpetually trying to open. He wanted her in all the ways that he couldn't - even though he hadn't the slightest clue of what the box held. She had warned him since the very beginning that her inner demons were not something that could be easily dealt with, but he took the warning as a challenge to overcome the evil with her -  if not for her. She foolishly took faith in his determination, truly believing that someone could save her from the entrapment of the box.

"Tell me," he coaxed as he searched her eyes for remediation, "I don't want you to do this alone".

The hairline crack in her heart fractured the slightest bit. It hurt her to feel so cautious about loving him when he was trying so hard to love her. How could he even join the battle if she wouldn't open the fortress doors for him to enter? She looked at him with uncertainty, only to be met with determined eyes full of promise. He wanted to save her, and she? She, too, wanted so badly to be saved.

She climbed into his lap, letting his arms wrap around her as to shield her from the chaos surrounding her. It was as if his arms could keep her sanity contained, and as she laid there, his chest rising up and down, everything was at peace. He would never know how much this serenity meant to her. He was her form of escapism. She was terrified that once he became engaged with her demons, neither of them would be able to escape.

Gently, she brushed her lips against his, as to say, "please, don't let this ruin us". He kissed her back unyieldingly, as to respond, "let me protect you".

She took a deep breath and pulled the box from underneath her baggage. With a huff, she blew away the thick layer of dust that had blanketed the box. It had been a while since she trusted someone enough to reveal the contents - 3 years to be exact. Slowly, she creaked the lid open and watched as her evils seeped out. He took the first one and brushed it away effortlessly with promises of a better future. He took on the second with the same, unaltered haughtiness. And the third, and the fourth.

She felt invincible with him beside her. She frolicked with him through the burning forests, hand in hand. The fires lit their way.

On a night before dawn, they climbed onto a cliff that overlooked the entire war zone. Going up, they could see how beautiful the sky was - tainted with hues of pink and lavender, as if to mark the end of another battle. As they approached the top, he held her in his arms, and she felt an overwhelming sense of victory bubbling within her chest. They were almost there, she could almost be free. The two of them standing there was the true definition of irony: serenity amongst chaos.

And then they looked behind them.

The fires flickered and lapped in tongues of flames, and beyond the burning tree line, the forest floor was blackened with dust and ash. The entire scene visually paralleled that of the night sky. Yet, the sky signified hope, and the forest - death.

She grabbed his hand to venture forward, excited to continue moving towards the top, but came to an abrupt stop. He stood unmoving, his gaze wavering with uncertainty. Her heart began to sink. She didn't have to ask to know what he was thinking. She knew his determination had begun to vanish along with the smokey fumes that twirled towards the night sky. He was done fighting.

"Maybe you should go back and apologize", he said, his eyes flitting towards the burning forests, "we can continue fighting when we're ready in the future". Without protest, she looked at him with sad, smiling eyes, and a quick nod. He had already done so much for her, and she could not have asked for anymore. She knew he wasn't ready to see what was beyond the cliff. He had thought that he could battle her demons for her, but after careful recollection, he realized that winning the battle meant sacrificing his own angels, too. He wasn't ready to do so. He took her hand and led her back towards the forest, the fumes intoxicating her lungs. She felt herself slowly break, but kept composed for his sake. She understood that this battle was not his to begin with, and for him to sacrifice anything would be something that she did not deserve.

He brought her back to the spawn of the battlefield and settled her down on the dust and the ashes. He made promises of a better future, and left her to return to his angels. She sat there drawing infinity signs into the ashes with her finger until her entire hand had turned black. Forever wasn't with him, forever was with her demons.

Every time he came to visit, she would riddle the forest floor with white petals. She strung up little lights onto the sparse branches of the saplings that survived the inferno.

"Is everything okay?", he would ask, with the same concern flickering in his eyes.

"Yes, of course.", she would respond with unwavering certainty. She was becoming so good at lying that she could fool herself.

They would hold each other, and love each other until he would have to leave her again. And when he did leave her, she let herself cry exponentially harder because every lie she told him was equivalent to swallowing acid.

When he was gone, she would pull down the string lights and set the petals on fire. She curled herself onto the ashy floor, and tucked her box back under her baggage.

It's ironic how someone can be both your salvation and demise. 

Fairytales.

I thought he was an angel
Disguised as a boy
Sent from the heavens
Like I was Helen of Troy.

I had troubles imagining
What he would wear,
If he'd have wings and a halo,
Or be riding a mare.

I let down my hair,
I fell into slumber,
I left my glass slipper,
I waited and wondered.

But I'm not a princess
Who can be saved,
My life is a prison,
And I am it's slave.

"We're a fairytale", he said,
And I let that persist,
I should have known better,
Those don't exist.

Entropy.

I used to think that falling in love,
Meant losing your mind over someone,
And stumbling over your own words.

It’s similar to the exhilaration of falling from great heights,
The anticipation for the drop,
When you heart falls into the pit of your stomach.

I used to think that falling in love meant losing control,
Over the way your body reacts,
Against your own mind and soul.

Lately I’m starting to realize that falling in love
Makes your world a little more ordered.
The little things that used to be out of place
Suddenly align themselves.

The frayed edges are burnt off,
The sharp edges are smoothed out,
The uneven edges are sanded down,
And the only edge left
Is the edge that you have over me.

Nature tends towards maximum disorder.
I guess falling in love with you is just
Supernatural.

All or nothing.

I wish I knew how to love in smaller doses.

Predispositions.

I know I shouldn't be comparing,
but the last time I gave my heart to a boy,
He had me fooled for 3 years.

I can't help but be cautious when loving you,
because I don't know how long
it will take me to figure it out this time around.

Parallel.

Sometimes my thoughts still wander to you.
I still catch glimpses of us in my everyday life,
Like the path we walked that winter night,
After I gave everything to you for the very first time.

I want to thank you for holding my heart so delicately,
For letting me grow with so much patience.
For standing with me through every single storm,
And staying with me to admire the rainbow after the chaos settled.

It's such a shame that we couldn't withstand
The complexities of growing up.
That's the thing about falling in love when you're young,
You either grow up together, or grow apart.
It's such a shame that it had to be the latter.

I believe that you and I exist in another parallel universe,
Where we were able to overcome our inner demons,
And will love indefinitely, inseparably.

But in this universe,
I hope you can find someone who will love you the same way I did,
but even more fiercely.
I hope she can make you feel everything I made you feel,
but even more intensely.

Most importantly,
Regardless of what universe you reside in:
You deserve all the happiness in the world,
and I hope you can achieve anything you put your mind to.

Modern art.

12 AM is for drowsy thoughts of you.
When I recollect the memories you left me with that day.
Trying to relish in the way you tasted – crimson red,
The way my heart squeezed as you told me you loved me – melancholy blue,
The way my breath caught when you kissed me on the nape of my neck – an indescribable hue of green.

1AM is for the hopeful thoughts of you.
When I try to paint out our future with the colours we chose together,
The crimson red of lust,
The melancholic blue of serenity,
The royal purple of success,
And an indescribable hue of green
Somewhere between an aquamarine and teal,
Where all of our favourite things exist.

2AM is for the doubtful thoughts of you.
When I begin running out of paint,
and the colour palette just won't mix out the way I need it to.

3AM is for hopeless thoughts of you.
When the flaws of us become vividly illuminated by the moonlight,
and I begin to realize that I was never much of an artist anyways.

4AM is for exhaustive thoughts of you.
When the transparency that you value so much
becomes transparent to me as well,
and I finally realize that the paint I have been working with has dried out.

5 AM is for numbness.
When I remove the canvas from the easel to hang on the wall,
Realizing only then,
That the canvas is entirely blank.

Granite.

My finger traced along the veins
Of the granite table
That separates us.

I wonder if I trace far enough across the table,
Will the faded lines
Bring me closer to you?

Unbeknownst to you as you sit across from me,
My mind is running marathons
From the thoughts of you
To the thoughts of me
With thoughts of us in between.

And as I traced the faded lines,
That led me away from you,
You reached across the table
And intertwined your fingers with mine.

Glass.

I held my heart in a glass bowl
Similar to the ones that people use
To restrict the lives of goldfish
Or to let an entire ecosystem strive independently.

I built an ecosystem
With my roots embedded in compassion
The veins running deep into the soil
I nurtured each plant with the utmost care
And fought to find balance between
Cycles
And
Cycles
So that each plant could flourish to its utmost potential.

But as I stepped back to admire the vastness of my ecosystem
I realized that the life I had cultivated
Was no different from the goldfish in the bowl.
The seeds would not spread beyond the fragile glass walls
But fuck
How I wish they would shatter.

Past, Present, Future.

I miss you in all the tenses.
I love you in the same.

Fall.

The moment I fell in love with you
Cannot be deduced into one time point alone.

It was somewhere between the day I caught you staring at me
Like I was something more
While I was reeling in and out of fatigue
As I had stayed up all night from caffeine
And odd thoughts of you the night before.

It was during the 1 AM conversation we had,
When I confessed to you of all my baggage
And how you fearlessly took it upon yourself
To take the weight off my shoulders
When you didn’t even know what was weighing me down.

It happened again on our first date,
How the tension of a first kiss lingered between us
From the moment I walked in through the doors of your house
That held the most magnificent view of the city.

I remember being breathless that day
When I stood in your kitchen an marvelled at how beautiful the universe is,
When you wrapped your arms around my waist,
When I had the pleasure of witnessing you make music,
When you leaned into kiss me all three times,
And when your lips finally met mine on the last.

I fell a little more that summer day you brought me to the peak of the city
And we walked hand in hand down the winding path,
Getting lost as we laid side by side on a patch of grass
As if we were the protagonists of a love story.

I fell less elegantly for you,
The first time I let envy seep into my veins.
I let the tinge of jealously taint my words,
Until I became silent in fear of hurting you.

It happened again that evening
We laid in bed together with our arms and legs intertwined,
As I watched you fall asleep slowly first,
And then all at once.

It happens again, and again,
Even more easily than before.
I fall when I see you laughing with my mother in the kitchen,
When you hold my hand in the car,
When you share your favourite stories with me,
When you brush your fingers delicately over my cheek.

And it will happen more and more.
I’ll fall deeper and deeper in love with you
Every time I catch you staring at me,
Every time you lean in to kiss me,
Every time you say my name.

All that I can ask is,
Please catch me when I fall.
Don’t let me crash.

Boy-ancy.

The issue about having something as perfect as you is that sometimes I think it's too good to be true.

I try to build walls around my heart in anticipation of the havoc that will inevitably ensue. With every compliment you give me, I deflect it with apathy. With every promise you make, I disregard it with scepticism.

I force myself to swim back to shore every time I find myself delving deeper and deeper into you. Sometimes I fall aimlessly into you, as I let the water shroud around me like a security blanket. I let myself drown in the comfort of you, sometimes closing my eyes as I sink further and further. There's a weird sense of sensuality when you sink. You let something weigh down on you weightlessly as you are carried into the depths of the unknown. You find yourself exploring areas you've never even seen before with an odd sense of familiarity and belonging. Yet amidst the wonder and mesmerization, you will notice that your lungs have become filled with water. You've been drowning in oblivion, and you were too distracted to save yourself. As you frantically flail upwards, you can no longer see the surface because you've swam too deep. You will lose yourself in this process, and what seemed to be so serene was only a facade for wreckage.

And eventually you will become lost. You will let the water encompass all of you. Until you're washed up onto the shore, broken and torn into a million little pieces.

You'll collect yourself and the shattered pieces of your heart - some lost in the grains of sand. And as you grasp onto the shards that are left, you will just shrug and brush it off as an unfortunate mistake that never really broke you the way he broke your heart.

And as you walk back home, you'll look back at the ocean

and promise to yourself that you will never go swimming ever again. 

Loving him - Pt. 1.

His lips pressed against mine
as our tongues embraced in a tantalizing dance.

His hands caressing every curve of my body
as his fingers sprawled against my skin.

I pressed my body closer towards his,
trying to conform the nooks and the creases
against his rigidity.

I laced my fingers through his hair,
intertwined my legs around his waist.

Erratic, passionate, breathless,
I let myself become filled with him.

He filled the void that was once left behind,
He slid into the cracks of my broken heart,
He mended them with every kiss,
Until he and I together became complete.

 

 

 

Note to Self:

Have faith and trust in those who love you.

Should they take your love for granted, forgive them and let them go.

Resolve.

As she let the thoughts of him break her from the inside,
She glanced beside her and found her resolve

His subtle smile and steady stare,
Making all of her thoughts subside

“I love you”, he breathed
And she forgot about all of his lies.

To whoever loves him next.

 

Love him well.

Love him unconditionally.

Love him wholeheartedly.

Losing you.

The worst part of losing you was feeling lost as I venture out into the world alone. To not have your presence to guide me through the crowded streets, winding paths.

The worst part of losing you was feeling empty from the void that you once occupied - through the constant text messages, dates, company spent. The spaces between my fingers feel too large, the nook my my neck feels too cold, my body itself feels incomplete.

The worst part of losing you was trying to pass time. No longer did my days start with "Good morning, beautiful", and end with "Good night, love". Minutes feel like hours. Hours of sleeplessness filled with thoughts of you consume me every night, until exhaustion took pity on me, and consumed me.

The worst part of losing you was being without your love. I would catch you looking at me like I was the most wonderful person in the room. The pride you took in me fed my confidence - you truly believed that I could do anything if I put my mind to it. You had so much hope in me. I felt like I could conquer the world. Though as those little compliments faded along with the hope that you had for us, my self-esteem diminished. I never knew how insecure I was before I had met you - perhaps I never was, but the mind adapts and so does the heart. I was shielded by the negativities around me by your love - and once that was lost, so was my comfort. I notice it now. The occasional red bumps on my face, the fat that hangs around my stomach, how large my pores really are, the fly-aways in my hair. Is that why you lost hope in me?

As I sit here clutching the remains of my heart with my fist, I know what the worst part of losing you is:

The worst part of losing you was losing me. I had lost myself in the process of finding out every single detail about you over the last three years. I delved into the deepest pits of your existence to sew back the broken pieces and surface the ones that were meant to be rejoiced but were hidden under the insecurities of your own. Yet through every push, every bead of sweat, and ever tear I shed, I left a part of me with you - until I no longer had anything left of myself to give.

I lost myself when I lost you. I can see parts of her in you. She lives in the thread that was used to sew your heart back together.

I see her in your determination - I left her with you the day you cried because you were almost put on probation after a series of poor choices in your first semester.

I see her in your happiness - I left her with you every time you let sadness consume you because you were homesick.

I see her in your confidence - I left her with you when I did countless mock-interviews with you before you tried out for your first part-time job.

I see her in your love - I left her with you when I proved to you that true love does exist.

If losing myself meant that you could find yourself underneath the cloud of insecurities you lived under before meeting me, then I hope that the parts that I left with you cling to the fibres of your being, and flow through your veins like an elixir.

 



Island.

Photo by Jon Ottosson