you and I


I lay there
in the silence of tangled sheets
hoping you would
breathe a word of affection
in the cold dawn of morning

 You swallowed
your thoughts
where no one could pry
but your touch always reassured me in a way that words could not

I traced the marks
on your skin
as you lovingly left more
on my neck

You explored my body
with the intricate dance
of your fingertips
as I collapsed into fits
of laughter and joy
that was foreign to me

I sank into the warmth
of your embrace
and tasted a longing
on your lips

You made me promise
not to drown myself in
the abysmal depth of sadness,
but to laugh and grow
because you knew
there would be others after you

I hope you'll find
what you're looking for
in a place
a promise
a person

 You left to start on your journey;
I hope you find your way home

An Ekebom and Hemmingway Inspired Piece


I heard of this place before.

They told me that all who come here
seek shelter from the noise and the chaos
that surrounds the everyday happenings in the concrete jungle.

I left everything behind and came to start over
in this little emptiness of nothing.
This place is small,
sheltered,
vaccant and
hollow,
as though the only companionship I have is
the echo of my footsteps across the wooden floorboards.
But given what had recently transpired–
it will do.

The house is simple.
It has one bedroom,
a living room with a phonograph thrown in and
a tiny little kitchen with a sink that faces the window.
There is a small patch of land in the back
that left remnants of what used to
blossom and thrive beautifully
under the loving care of one with a green thumb.

I thank my porter who responded with a grunt
as he heaved my bags onto the path,
tipped his hat and drove away.
The rumbling sound of his engine
gradually faded as he drove off
and I was soon left to the company of cicadas
as they bid adieu to the sun to welcome the moon.

I lug both my bags into the house and
carefully transport them up to my room.
Most of my things are brand new
save for whatever I managed to salvage
after the incident.

I unpack my things
and remove the padding–
newspaper, bubble wrap and all.
I hang up my clothes and
do best to make my new bedroom
feel just like home.

And in a tiny corner
in the wooden clothes cupboard
I gently place the most painful
item I managed to salvage–
a pair of half-charred baby shoes,
once worn.

Long Live Liza


Ten years ago I told Liza I loved her.

That was the first time those three words
escaped my mouth and
I remember how she laughed
as she took my trembling hands in hers
and tenderly kissed my knuckles.

That was the last time I saw her.

Liza was everything and anything in between;
I remember different parts of her
as though they were yesterday.
There was her favourite cherry sorbet in spring
and her excitement on the fourth of July.
Our apartment was stacked with
the endless collection of vinyls she hoarded
and the tubes of watermelon flavoured chapstick
she always misplaced.

Liza was a petite frame
with an uncontainable amount of curiousity-
her naivety complemented her carefree spirit
albeit dangerously, that is.
I remember when she would regale me with
her encounters of friendly strangers on the bus
or once where 'that horrid man ran off with
my purse when I distracted by the delicious smell
wafting from the bakery'.

It was precisely ten minutes past eight
that her brother called to deliver the news.
Liza was always determined to
focus straight ahead
when it came to her future
but sadly forgot about the other directions
when she crossed the road.
I suppose it was rather inappropriate of me
to find humour in the manner of her death
but a little voice told me that
she probably would have laughed too.

It has been awhile since
Liza ever crossed my mind
and I have grown out of
the shell I hid under.
But sometimes I lay in bed
at night and wonder
why I still taste watermelon
when I kiss another.

The Little Bright Light

Once there was a little boy
who shined ever so bright.
He befriended the sun by day
and whispered secrets to the moon at night.

 The little boy felt lonely
so he ventured beyond his world.
Deep in the dark, gloomy shadows
he stumbled upon a girl.

 At first the boy was hesitant
and unsure of what to say.
Eventually he mustered his courage
and invited her to play

 Soon he found something very strange
about the little girl in black-
when he tried to make conversation
she never uttered a word back.

 Eventually the boy felt tired
and as he slept late into the night
The girl crept slyly into his heart
and switched off all the lights.
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