Movie

some memory is like
a movie that
we don’t want it
to end

so we just let it play
to one third
not to drift into sleep
but rather
holding our desire
to the next
and the next
never ending

Love is…

Sitting in an a cappella concert
listening to love songs sung from
heartache to joy
despair to victory
hopelessness to strength

I realised love is
such an extreme emotion
that makes us
shiver, quiver
flutter, shudder
like
groosebumps on our skin
earthquake under our feet

No wonder
it takes
eruption of volcanoes
explosion of fireworks
to express
the sensation of love
in climax

Deep down

she shouted to the receptionist
threatened to hack us all in pieces
she screamed those words out
in a foreign tongue
her neck flushed with red patches
her hair had gone messy
her eyes were fueled with fire

in our shared language
I tried to de-escalate her rage by
offering her a cool drink
while clearly expressed to her
the options of
the police or the mental health team
if she was unable to cease screaming

she sat down
showed me photos of a hole
in her ceiling
and the water marks
resembling the world map
she told me
for six years
she have lived with ceiling leakage
for nine months
she haved stared at the hole
in the ceiling every night

she wept
for her man left her
the hole in the ceiling
is a constant reminder of
how her heart was broken
and it seems beyond repair

she is a tenant
complaining about
a repair and maintenance issue
she is a woman
suffering great despair
what is on the surface
is just the tip of
the iceberg

Truth revealed

when love runs dry

my body cringes

at the sound of your voice

it gives me away

my denial is futile

Molecules of Blues

leaning my head
to the train window
staring at the train tracks
how mundane and
heading nowhere
it seems

daydreaming about the ocean
warm sun
salty mist
dancing on my cheeks
just enough to disperse
the molecules of blues

Sand

The cold coffee is keeping me company
as I sit watching the waves rolling in.

I am tired of the long nights with
an empty spot accentuated by the cool moon light.

All the heartaches exhausted my fractured mind.
My eye sockets are hollow and brittle
disregard the flirtatious breeze.

I don’t know why I am so chained up
by the past like a submissive slave.
When the master has been long gone,
I keep the pain and torture to preserve
pleasure.

I have been through tubes of smudging mascaras.
Drought became my heart’s desire and daily companion.

My ailing body no longer withstands
the changeable seaside weather.
Fine sand finds its way into
the window of my emptiness.
I cannot tell is it a rock or a precious mineral.

The irritaion imitates the pain to give pleasure.
My eyes well up and my soul returns.