Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

183: devil's playground

 your persistent open burning

sparked by pandemic loneliness

fueled by anxiety and idle hands

is starting to destroy my sanctuary.


your smoky taste of trauma bonds 

this smell of ashy codependency

is starting to suffocate me.


i don't need another gaslight.


- devil's playground

2021-05-04, 6.24pm

175: librated

you stormed into my life like a typhoon.

swept me off my feet 
as i get whisked into the air
in a single smoky breath.
restless, relentless spirit, 
a thing of mystery and wander;
an acquired sight to behold
from afar.

at the whiff of your scent on another body, 
words escape me
while memories rush in:

your salty skin on the tip of my tongue,
your warm hands squeezing my sides,
your books on my bedside table,
the sight of unanswered blue ticks
the soft toothbrush i left behind
the silence of blocked calls
 and i am grounded again.

- 2025-01-30 14:46


---


you stormed into my life like a typhoon,
a restless spirit sweeping me off my feet
in a single smoky breath -
relentless,
a thing of mystery and wonder,
an acquired sight to behold from afar,
a ride
  i cannot stay on.

yet, at the whiff of your scent on another body, words escape me
i think of your salty skin on the tip of my tongue,
the warmth of your hands on mine, and
the things we left for each other:
my toothbrush at your place
your books beside my bed
and the sound of blue ticks signalling
  that i am grounded again.

- 2020-01-23 20:08

💜💜💜170: panic pixie dream ghoul (draft)

throughout my life,
i have been taught
to be seen but not discerning,
to constantly sacrifice spoons
and breakdown
walls i have painstakingly built
to survive; to smile at my own vandalisation.
lately
i have learnt
that part of the problem
is i keep getting lost
trying to find hope and meaning in the halls of shame
of gaslighting goodvibers armed with husnuzon on one hand
and hubris on the other;
my dirt-filled nails and shaky scarred fingers
have been trained to dig up blood-stained building blocks
of altars that served souls saved through divine intervention
at someone else's expense—no
now
what i really wanna know:
Why do i keep talking to walls
that only wanted
wallflowers?

— 20190829 0311

164: harapkan pagar, pagar makan hati

forgive me
for my
staggered
response,
i am still struggling to gain composure from past blows.

the hard expressions i wear (a mask at best)
and the hostile exterior i carry (an armor at least)
are all attempts to cushion any sudden or sustained impact
on my mushy softnesses inside,
yet all the walls i keep building are no match for my constantly outstretched arms
my first line of defense and my most faithful traitor
everready to charge headfirst and to wave the white flag
in the battle of hearts.

i must confess
my sleeves have turned black
from wearing my heart on them
so religiously.
you can't kinstugi shatteredheartpieces
when it's still bleeding,
so i have spent decades perfecting
the art of stitching them together
with flimsy threads of self-love
and forced silver livings.

sometimes i wonder
how despite everything
it still keeps on beating.

sometimes i wonder
why despite everything
it still keeps me alive.

2019-06-13

162: airbourne dis-ease

a slumber laced with magic dust slowly reaches its final act; the illusion of a young-at-heart morpheus is slowly morphing, deforming into a seasoned peter pan ever on a flight of fancy.

this daydream or daymare of castles in the sky
is making me dizzy.

i can't fly that high.

2019-07-08 1.17pm

159: soft

please
let me sip on your existence.
i never liked sugary treats, yet i am dying
to savor your natural sweetness on my tongue,
feel your effervescence inside me.

please
this heat is making me drowsy,
and i am parched.

2019-02-27 10.25am

152: thoughts and players

1.
my thirsty lips
brushing against
your lazy smile,

2.
whispering sweet nothings
while running the tip of my tongue
along the ridge of your ears,
slowly nibbling each lobe
as you silently beg
for more,

3.
your sweetsalty skin
and heavy scent
as i leave a trail
of sloppy kisses
down the side
of your neck,

4.
your collarbones
grazed
red
moist,

5.
drawing circles
on your chest
and blowing on each peak
as you quiver under me
ever so slightly,

6.
my hands
twirling your curls
cupping your cheeks
squeezing your shoulders
holding you
down,

7.
your heartbeats
and the constant cycles of
sighs and gasps
as we dip in and out
of blissful insanity,

8.
breathing you in
and kissing your temples
as your trembling pillars stabilise
leaving my throbbing altar
witness my spiritual supplication
through closed eyes
and needy moans,

9.
watching you
rise and fall
as you drift off into another world
leaving me
for the nth time
undone,

10.
knowing
that i can finally breathe easy
now that you
are no longer
in my prayers.

2019-04-12 5.38pm

150: Sayang

she calls me Sayang
as her love straightjackets me
while the padded walls absorb my screams
and my streams and my dreams
and it seems that she thinks she’s trying
to save me by tugging me tightly
but i’m no barbie in abaya,
nothing but a black sheep in wire
who'd rather crossfire than conspire,
wearing social justice warrior
as a badge of honor.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
dan aku dihidupkan untuk menjadi bonekanya yang
solek-selokanya bak bidadari tanpa bayang-bayang.
tapi sayang, suaraku tak semerdu dayang
rambut tak lebat berikal mayang
lidah tak sehalus tali lelayang
tubuhku tak seramping tiang
senyumku tak semanis angan-angan siang.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
tapi diriku dah penat ditayang.
sendiku sakit dihuyung-hayang,
diheret, disentak rentak si juru wayang.
yet even after decades of resistance
i am still struggling to keep a distance
between her scripts for me and my own reality.
.
she calls me Sayang,
and sometimes i wonder
if the word has lost its meaning
because the more she talks to me
the more redundant she makes me feel.
.
she calls me Sayang,
so the saying "marah maknanya sayang"
is really just gaslighting,
isn't it?


2019-04-12 7.20pm
2018-01-30 3.06pm


149: heartless

once again,
you are caught red-handed
with another pulpy, still-beating heart
ripped out of a chest you've once been a guest in.

blood splutters all around
as you squish it inside your fist,
turning tears into tsunamis
and friends into foes.

this isn't your first time,
i know.


2017-12-13 4.39pm

146: heavy mental

i've been asked
about my insistence in preserving
the sights+sounds+tastes+scents+strokes
of those i love
   but
i cannot put into words
why my fear of losing these Memories
   is so strong
       it hurts.

perhaps
i am simply
   Sentimental;
trying to tiptoe while tumbling through blocks
of matter and no-matters
and make sense of everything
in this sensational yet desensitised world
   is nonsensical
      but

perhaps
   (for better or worse)
   (and this is okay)
this is just
      how i Love.

135: let love and live

I can live and let live,
but I can't love those who only love love
but refuse to live and love.


20170529 9.10am



I can live and let live,
but I can't love those who only love love
but not those who want to live and love.

2017-04-26 3.56pm

121: good night, bad knight

not the first time i've fallen
but my final time trying
my lungs have been swelling
from all the deep diving
into your bottomless eyes
that i've been drowning in before
and your remorseless sighs
impatience i somehow adored

i've slammed all doors: front, back, trap, closet
done and dusted, once and for all, closed it
after all the leeways given, i'm now signing out
by the thought of two and half years of your pout
that you're with me, a gasbag with all its air out

what the hell are you on
and what you going on about
that the only things you doubt
is your emotional blackout
and the lies i've sniffed out?

lying down, lying back,
doesn't matter how you're reclining
you need a spine to decline
from the truth you're denying
i feel for the next person listening
to the things you'll be recycling
if they're buying what you're selling
the 'tortured soul' you're advertising

the bubble will burst for them too,
unfortunately for you;
there's no way you'll last long
you're no knight in shining armor
you imagined yourself as all along.

z
2016-11-30

💜💜💜115: uncyclereduceabuse

The thing about abusive relationships is this:
you don't always end up with scars.

At least, not ones where you are left
beatenupbloody
brokenboned
blackandblue.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant,
thoughtful,
sweet.

He said I was special.

It started off so well --
calltxtwhatsappskype
timeschedulesdistance
marriagedreamshomes;

He said I was special.

But then special
turned salient.

The grim atmosphere.
The undercurrents.
The addictions.
The dark side.

His past.
The present.
Our future.

What used to make my heart skip a beat
Made me forget how to breathe;
What used to give me butterflies
Gave me sweaty palms and goosebumps.

"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.
And I turned into an addict in denial
just like him.

At one point, I jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."

This made me sober.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.
And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.






---




The thing about abusive relationships is this:
You don't always end up with scars.

Not beatenupbloody blackandblue brokenbones ones, at least.

For me, it was a classic case of, "I thought only other people go through this."
simply because
"I should have been smarter than to let it happen to myself'"

Now, I'm not sure if it's necessarily about smartness.

Maybe it's smartness intertwined with or messed up when emotions come into the equation. 
Because looking back, it wasn't really obvious when I started feeling trapped.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant, thoughtful, sweet.
He let me know how much he needed me.

He said I was different.
I'm special.

I lapped it all up.

I guess in retrospect
I should've known better.

But it started off so well --
we did the whole calltxtwhatsappskype
went out some despite timeschedulesdistance
we even had talks of marriagedreamshomes;
Things were pretty good
at first.

It was not long
before other things crept in.

The slow, but sure, 180 turn.

The grim atmosphere.
The undercurrents.
The addictions.
The dark side.

Then, more things became salient.

His past.
The present.
Our future.

But i had to be kindacceptingunderstanding, i kept telling myself.
And so i kept readjusting my bearings to where he was. To what he was.

It took me a while to realise what this actually meant:
that I was adapting myself to him.

I can't be the way I am.
Because I'm not good enough.
But I still had to make him happy.
By hook or by crook, even if it meant I had to be someone else.

And so my feelings, thoughts, and actions started to be (sub)consciously dictated by
how he would feel ifs, 
what he would do ifs, 
what he would say ifs...

And the little things he did that used to give me butterflies started to give me goosebumps...
And the lively calls slowly became more and more one-sided...
And the jokes turned into accusations or insults.

But he wasn't always like this.
He wasn't.
Honest.

And this was the fuel that kept me going.

Because I'm different from all the other girls who left him, you see.

I'm special.

And there's always that voice at the back of my head:
"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

I didn't realise that it was an impossible one.
And so I turned into an addict in denial
just like him.

It was only when I began to jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."
... that I realised the gravity of this situation.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.

It wasn't easy.

The lashback was painful
The pleas were guilttripping
The callsmessages had to be blocked
but I managed to escape what has been caging me.

And I felt free.
I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

112: underpressure

 Pour Stir Taste Sprinkle Stir Taste Stop Press Breathe It'll get better Control Close
 Steam Spill Open Release Stop Stir Sprinkle Taste Pour Sprinkle Stir Close
 Brew Spill Open Spill Stop Taste Brew Boil Spill Breathe Close
 Brew Boil Spill Sigh Open Stir Close
 Open Spill Taste Close
 Open Taste Press
 Stop
 Stop
 Stop
 It doesn't
 Close

104: of peach tea and ice cream latte

this isn't a poem
this is my train of thoughts
processing.

{{{rewind

my peach tea
your ice cream latte

talking about
spices and herbs in drinks
and how you're keen to experiment
and i couldn't bring myself to.

//and i remember you wanting
tangerine and cardamom tea.
it sounds odd,
but if you made it,
i'm pretty sure
i might try it at least once.//

and then we chatted
and laughed a little too loud
making fun of wwe
singing flight of the conchords
-- your fav is 'you're so beautiful... like a tree'

talking about what our 10 year olds
would think of us if they saw us right now
yours would be somewhat unimpressed
by your hair
(which i find extremely cute);
and he'd ask, whispering, "who's the girl?"

(why are you so cute?!)

i told you i almost ran away when i was 9
and i bundled up my stuff like doraemon did
and you laughed because i brought up doraemon.
i like it when you laugh.
(perhaps a bit too much)

then we went down for you to pray
and i was doodling and forgot to look at the time
and when i saw you standing outside
i couldn't help but smile

(seriously,
why are you so cute?)

we skipped gelato
"or you'll have to hold it for me"
and you asked if i wanted to drive around with you
as if i could say no

in your white mini, beatles in the air
driving around in circles
driving around in silence
driving around with tears rolling down my cheeks
because you wanted me to let it all out

\\you played julia once.
and you said you listened to it repeatedly
after you dropped me off,
it's such a sad song.
(i wish i could ask you
why you listen to such sad songs)\\

you try to understand.
you understand me
despite only knowing me for a week plus.

what's up with you?

we parked and looked over the valleyed city
near the top of the hill.
you relaxed and reclined your seat;
you cracked your bones,
you apologised.
= don't worry about it
bones cracking
= you can do anything you want.
startled, "what?"
= yeah, you can crack your bones, stretch, whatever
"so you're ok with me breaking my spine half?'
= what? NO---fine, you can do anything you want, as long as your don't hurt yourself
= ... or others
"ok then."

and then you asked
"how does this feel?"
= hmm?
"what do you think of this?"
= what do you mean?
"what do you think 'it' means?"
= [us being here?]
[i think he said yes, but his real meaning seemed concealed]
= umm...
i felt like i would burst
i wanted to touch you
i wanted to tell you how much i like you
i wanted to know how you really felt about me
but all i said was
= it's nice
(i can't ruin this moment)
(i can't ruin whatever 'it' was)
(i can't ruin whatever we are)

and you gave me your wooden bracelet
which i'd wanted since the last meeting.

and at night, on the phone, you said:
[thank you for making my december memorable]
just something along those lines
i can never remember if it's too long

but i do remember this:
"you're adorable"
= so are you
"umm. thank you."

i try to understand all this.
it's hard.

where do we go from here?
what do i do?

i'm already missing you so much.

99: they say it gets easier

as my hands
already overbr
imming
with half-
baked promises
and swOllen from the burden of
inc_mpl_t_ tasks
are faced with
LifteD
brows;
it gets easier, they say
as they
generously offer
MORE MORE MORE
of everything
without even *batting* an eyelash,
with a heapful of
words of enc(our)agement
like
l e t u s f i l l y o u i n
there's no better way to learn;
it gets easier, they say
but
There seems to be vicious creatures
TERRORIsing them in their homes
which are often called commITments,
but oh
"nothing for you to worry about,
pup
pet,
because commITments only
b
u
g
people who have
something called
LIFE

they say it gets easier,
"don't worry --
later
you can do the same to your juniors."

-
written: april '13

last edited: 021313

95: heart-headed (under recojstruction)

Head to Heart --
Head to Heart
Do you copy?
Head to Heart,
It appears you have somehow found yourself
stuck on another body in space
Head to heart,
It's new territory, but we've been here before
foreign,
but familiar.
Head to heart,
Experience should remind you to
Be careful of
Risky rapids, ferocious forests
Suffocating sandstorms, among other forces of naturr
Beyond your control
-- Over
Head to heart
Do you copy?
Please respond, over
Head to heart
I repeat, tread with caution
You've done this before
You should know this, over
Head to heart
We we we-- we're los- losing you
Please-- tell us your cor- ore- coordinates
You're slowly going off radar
Turn around,
This is an order!
Over
Heart to head
I can can't can't
I'm st st stuck
I can't can't st steer stee any anym anymo anymore---
--Head to heart! Head to heart!
You you c- can do this!
Please copy!
Pl-- ease c-op
Over

94: Time capsule

she stares back at me,
dismayed,
disappointed.
i fidget.
she calls out to me.
i try to ignore
i try to block her out -- 
Look at me.
i stay silent
Look at me while I'm fucking talking to you.
i stop.
Turn. Around. Now.
i look away
No, you may not look elsewhere -- look at me. 
i start to stand.
No, you may not leave -- sit down.
i open my mouth
No, you may not reply -- be quiet and just listen, dammit.
i stare
For once, listen to yourself.
i shut down.
Just what the hell do you think you're doing 
Putting yourself on display 
With your adoring eyes
And your silly sighs
And your swollen heart 
On your bloodstained sleeves?
i close my eyes
As if you'd learnt 
Absolutely nothing 
From the past
i stop.
"nothing."
Nothing.
the word echoes in my mind
as she tells me again and again and again
like a broken record
All the world is a stage
and people are mere actors
with convoluted intentions 
and they don't always act their parts
the way you hope they would
and they don't always say their lines
the way they probably should
so okay,
i'll listen once again
to the image staring right back at me
one more time.
because
at the end of the day
with or without my reflection
i am
Nothing

93: Down With Love!

She said

he's over one hour late
stuff about her ex
stuff about conflicts between generations
stuff about middle children
stuff about school
stuff about exes bring baggage
stuff about her family
stuff about why she's afraid of the dark
stuff to not make her look like an idiot

(to no avail)

Naked doesn't even begin to explain
how she felt -- but
She should've known better
For having always been transparent --
She should've known better
For they say people living in glass houses
should mind what they do --

(but alas)

She uses that excuse again --
that she keeps forgetting
to keep being rational
to keep acting professional
to keep doing what's right
to keep avoiding what's wrong
to keep reminding herself

(again and again and again) --

Crushes will most likely
crush her.