ISSUE 10
Edited by Pang Sze Ann
POETRY
Beauty
by Tai Ran |
Fishbones and Moths
by Mikayla |
Never pick on a bean
by Victoria |
Prince's Villanesque
by Mikayla |
Release
by Kim |
POETRY
BEAUTY
|
Pink fleshy room, there I lay
Like a wet pearl tucked between tongue
And mouth. Toasty and dumb,
I await things done to me.
Eyes closed, I am startled by
Touch. I track the sounds: The constant tap
As they bring water to my face.
The squeak of chair as they rise
Is all I can see of them. In the darkness
I imagined a face, and each time I open
My eyes reality morphs over illusion,
A face in my mind, like
Passing strangers, gone the moment I surrender
To the womb and cold hands. Those
Hands, supple and feminine,
Sculpting unforgiving marble, and
Like a landscape painting I
Cannot see my artist — I am only familiar with
A name and each careful stroke. I can
Only go back to this touch, this frame.
Featureless and masterless hands, they bestow
Beauty by pressing it firmly into skin like a
Secret of the last dying tribe. Take it, a whisper
Slipped through doors of death, secret recipe
Or unknown poison. Pick,
Make it big. We will live on in you.
I have been lulled
Into a cocoon. Facing the darkness
Blissful in blindness, I await for the waves
To wash over and force me to drown.
Like a wet pearl tucked between tongue
And mouth. Toasty and dumb,
I await things done to me.
Eyes closed, I am startled by
Touch. I track the sounds: The constant tap
As they bring water to my face.
The squeak of chair as they rise
Is all I can see of them. In the darkness
I imagined a face, and each time I open
My eyes reality morphs over illusion,
A face in my mind, like
Passing strangers, gone the moment I surrender
To the womb and cold hands. Those
Hands, supple and feminine,
Sculpting unforgiving marble, and
Like a landscape painting I
Cannot see my artist — I am only familiar with
A name and each careful stroke. I can
Only go back to this touch, this frame.
Featureless and masterless hands, they bestow
Beauty by pressing it firmly into skin like a
Secret of the last dying tribe. Take it, a whisper
Slipped through doors of death, secret recipe
Or unknown poison. Pick,
Make it big. We will live on in you.
I have been lulled
Into a cocoon. Facing the darkness
Blissful in blindness, I await for the waves
To wash over and force me to drown.
FISHBONES AND MOTHS
|
i will not look at feet the same way anymore
i'm terrified the next time i pay attention to them ;
they'd be cold, stiff, toes pointing skywards.
i can barely kiss their crumpled dried beancurd
cheeks without feeling the fishbones of
godknowswhatemotionow lodging a steaming
knife in my throat
the park connector outside school seasonally
acts out in defiance, releasing fistfuls of tightly
clenched moth all shivering, teetering on edges -
steady, age passes their eyes and i see the
missed urgency in sudden flash of blankness
right in the loose jaws and soft smiles dialect rich
hmm. huh?
there goes another one.
i'm terrified the next time i pay attention to them ;
they'd be cold, stiff, toes pointing skywards.
i can barely kiss their crumpled dried beancurd
cheeks without feeling the fishbones of
godknowswhatemotionow lodging a steaming
knife in my throat
the park connector outside school seasonally
acts out in defiance, releasing fistfuls of tightly
clenched moth all shivering, teetering on edges -
steady, age passes their eyes and i see the
missed urgency in sudden flash of blankness
right in the loose jaws and soft smiles dialect rich
hmm. huh?
there goes another one.
HESTIA I
|
Your seismic waves
Roar at me, inexorable and sonic,
Knocking me off my feet
With your paradigm shifts.
Our continents are drifting further
And further
Away; you could be God.
You seem angry, anyway.
And I,
I am helplessly mortal.
I am unable to
Adapt
To your mercurial nature,
Your volcanic
Eruptions, your tsunamis, your
Earthquakes that shake, that shake.
I am done
Orbiting within your microcosm,
But you set my plans on fire
Just as I am about to
Take off.
Roar at me, inexorable and sonic,
Knocking me off my feet
With your paradigm shifts.
Our continents are drifting further
And further
Away; you could be God.
You seem angry, anyway.
And I,
I am helplessly mortal.
I am unable to
Adapt
To your mercurial nature,
Your volcanic
Eruptions, your tsunamis, your
Earthquakes that shake, that shake.
I am done
Orbiting within your microcosm,
But you set my plans on fire
Just as I am about to
Take off.
prince's villanesque
|
He is powerless against the blue in his veins,
On a throne of aching backs and waxed liabilities,
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
While he knows equalizing time will collect his pain
Fear of gilt and paper thin confessions cover his cities,
He is powerless against the blue in his veins.
Greater men have come falling, untethered, insane
Their rot no longer hidden, a golden lair eaten by cavities
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
Emancipated in molten currency is familiar reign,
Too quickly seeping into aerated bones, lily-livered dignities,
He is powerless against the blue in his veins.
Creaking spine bending to the time of rules arcane,
He conquers, successes, rakes in dues and dirty duties,
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
Now he, the king, ministry of his deeds profane,
Prays to empty altars, cursed bibles in hand, church - selfish charity
He is powerless against the blue in his veins.
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
On a throne of aching backs and waxed liabilities,
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
While he knows equalizing time will collect his pain
Fear of gilt and paper thin confessions cover his cities,
He is powerless against the blue in his veins.
Greater men have come falling, untethered, insane
Their rot no longer hidden, a golden lair eaten by cavities
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
Emancipated in molten currency is familiar reign,
Too quickly seeping into aerated bones, lily-livered dignities,
He is powerless against the blue in his veins.
Creaking spine bending to the time of rules arcane,
He conquers, successes, rakes in dues and dirty duties,
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
Now he, the king, ministry of his deeds profane,
Prays to empty altars, cursed bibles in hand, church - selfish charity
He is powerless against the blue in his veins.
Praise! I command, the crown of bloodied slain.
Red string of fate
|
The red string of fate.
Something the gods tie between you and someone else before birth.
A predestined spouse, or perhaps
A soulmate
P.S. Good luck finding them.
It's funny how fate works
Weaving together petty truths to form a horrible lie
‘I love you’ s repeated like a record broken
Cheap gifts with promises of ‘eternal love’
It blinded her
Wrapped fabricated truths around her eyes
She chose to believe the rose-tinted world around her
For that is what she was taught to do
Fast forward a few more years
A Blushing bride,
Translucent veil hiding what the human eye can see
A Gentle groom,
Waits as she advances down the aisle
The veil is lifted
Vows are exchanged
The stage is set and the demons come out to play
Red flags, warning signals
She tries to run
But running’s always harder when you're drowning
Blood bound promises
Engagement rings convoluted into shackles
Blood circles her arms
Blue-black bruises, replaced before they faded away
These were the ruby bracelets and sapphire rings he promised her.
A happily ever after-
Doomed
Sometimes too early is already
A little too late
Something the gods tie between you and someone else before birth.
A predestined spouse, or perhaps
A soulmate
P.S. Good luck finding them.
It's funny how fate works
Weaving together petty truths to form a horrible lie
‘I love you’ s repeated like a record broken
Cheap gifts with promises of ‘eternal love’
It blinded her
Wrapped fabricated truths around her eyes
She chose to believe the rose-tinted world around her
For that is what she was taught to do
Fast forward a few more years
A Blushing bride,
Translucent veil hiding what the human eye can see
A Gentle groom,
Waits as she advances down the aisle
The veil is lifted
Vows are exchanged
The stage is set and the demons come out to play
Red flags, warning signals
She tries to run
But running’s always harder when you're drowning
Blood bound promises
Engagement rings convoluted into shackles
Blood circles her arms
Blue-black bruises, replaced before they faded away
These were the ruby bracelets and sapphire rings he promised her.
A happily ever after-
Doomed
Sometimes too early is already
A little too late
Yours sincerely
|
My brain has unravelled,
Messy spaghetti,
Handwriting tangled up in curls.
My heart has exploded,
A fat, wet water balloon,
Splattered all over the paper
In violent splashes of ink –
Passionate cytolysis.
This letter is a bloodstained baby,
Pushed out from within me.
Now, in its place, there is a wound,
An emptied swimming pool,
As, in my hand, the letter
Blooms.
Messy spaghetti,
Handwriting tangled up in curls.
My heart has exploded,
A fat, wet water balloon,
Splattered all over the paper
In violent splashes of ink –
Passionate cytolysis.
This letter is a bloodstained baby,
Pushed out from within me.
Now, in its place, there is a wound,
An emptied swimming pool,
As, in my hand, the letter
Blooms.
dark nights and sunless
|
the darkness is so bright
it envelops me and blinds me
it scares me yet draws me in so --
it hurts me yet caresses me as the moonlight falls
its unsettling yet enchantingly mysterious.
the sunlight so dark
it shines at me and hurts me
it motivates me yet repels me so --
it nurtures me yet dehydrates me till bone bare
its beautiful yet creates a stinging pain.
two opposing concepts yet contain
elements of themselves that they chose
and lost during their mistakes and
the darkness is so bright
it envelops me and blinds me
it scares me yet draws me in so --
it hurts me yet caresses me as the moonlight falls
its unsettling yet enchantingly mysterious.
the sunlight so dark
it shines at me and hurts me
it motivates me yet repels me so --
it nurtures me yet dehydrates me till bone bare
its beautiful yet creates a stinging pain.
two opposing concepts yet contain
elements of themselves that they chose
and lost during their mistakes and
the darkness is so bright
never pick on a bean
|
I once smelt of a green bean
Just past its sell-by date
Who, about to bathe in a tub of cream
Rallied his descendants atop the plate:
Brethren- don’t be duped!
Fulfil your duty.
Take a stand for Liberabeanhood,
Absolute Sovereignty!
Flaunting a suave toupee of salt and spice
The bean’s oration was done.
But not to be outshone was I, readying to slice and dice!
Although past compare would a carving match be, the
Inhabitant in my mind, Mr. Morals-
Disagreed.
With much regret compromised I, negotiating
For a man-to-bean treaty.
Stipulations were set post-debate
And called was a truce;
Beanlordship’s ego inflates
And He sets all the rules.
Left standing on the sidelines,
Watching the cream turn sour
Sequestered by a blooming epiphany so divine
I had to seize the hour!
Daintily suggested was a signature for authenticity
Vehemently seconded it His Excellency.
In the heat of the moment, probably from the pot a-bubbling
Forgotten was his lack of fists.
Special as a snowflake, distinct as a Bean
Ladies and Gentlemen, let us admit
That a Bean without hands isn't the way to be!
I launched into rumination, pensively pondering
Lovingly fingering things out-
Figuring!
That it was time to clout the lout.
Struck by a stunning realisation of fistlessness he was
Although I’d hoped for lightning
Content was I to advise
For the use of fingerprints.
“Alas, God forbid!” The poor sod cried
“I do not have fingerprints, how should I sign?”
Apparently he wasn't that foolish, sorry to be snide
But inevitable was it for the little swine.
“Y’know, Sir, you've the same dimensions as my thumb,”
Just wondering if you’ve got it in you
To be sacrificed as a wee crumb?
The time was ripe
To introduce the spatula.
Caught unawares was the confounded snipe
Shell-shocked he was, as peaceful as a Buddha!
Without delay I positioned the dear paralysed bean
Onto the treaty parchment.
Cowered he far too late indeed
To scarper from bombardment!
The bean consented, the
Deed was done
A small step for Homo Sapiens, a
Huge leap for beans to come!
I sauntered away, satisfied
As the cat who’d guzzled the cream.
Only then did I realise
Hallelujah, I didn’t sign the deed!
Redundant were the bean’s endeavours
In vain that he was pulped.
Yet nevertheless I admired his efforts
And popped him into my mouth!
Perhaps I can't end this hostility
Of an old Bean-Man’s rivalry
But only between you and me
Never pick on a bean!
Just past its sell-by date
Who, about to bathe in a tub of cream
Rallied his descendants atop the plate:
Brethren- don’t be duped!
Fulfil your duty.
Take a stand for Liberabeanhood,
Absolute Sovereignty!
Flaunting a suave toupee of salt and spice
The bean’s oration was done.
But not to be outshone was I, readying to slice and dice!
Although past compare would a carving match be, the
Inhabitant in my mind, Mr. Morals-
Disagreed.
With much regret compromised I, negotiating
For a man-to-bean treaty.
Stipulations were set post-debate
And called was a truce;
Beanlordship’s ego inflates
And He sets all the rules.
Left standing on the sidelines,
Watching the cream turn sour
Sequestered by a blooming epiphany so divine
I had to seize the hour!
Daintily suggested was a signature for authenticity
Vehemently seconded it His Excellency.
In the heat of the moment, probably from the pot a-bubbling
Forgotten was his lack of fists.
Special as a snowflake, distinct as a Bean
Ladies and Gentlemen, let us admit
That a Bean without hands isn't the way to be!
I launched into rumination, pensively pondering
Lovingly fingering things out-
Figuring!
That it was time to clout the lout.
Struck by a stunning realisation of fistlessness he was
Although I’d hoped for lightning
Content was I to advise
For the use of fingerprints.
“Alas, God forbid!” The poor sod cried
“I do not have fingerprints, how should I sign?”
Apparently he wasn't that foolish, sorry to be snide
But inevitable was it for the little swine.
“Y’know, Sir, you've the same dimensions as my thumb,”
Just wondering if you’ve got it in you
To be sacrificed as a wee crumb?
The time was ripe
To introduce the spatula.
Caught unawares was the confounded snipe
Shell-shocked he was, as peaceful as a Buddha!
Without delay I positioned the dear paralysed bean
Onto the treaty parchment.
Cowered he far too late indeed
To scarper from bombardment!
The bean consented, the
Deed was done
A small step for Homo Sapiens, a
Huge leap for beans to come!
I sauntered away, satisfied
As the cat who’d guzzled the cream.
Only then did I realise
Hallelujah, I didn’t sign the deed!
Redundant were the bean’s endeavours
In vain that he was pulped.
Yet nevertheless I admired his efforts
And popped him into my mouth!
Perhaps I can't end this hostility
Of an old Bean-Man’s rivalry
But only between you and me
Never pick on a bean!
Oceans
|
If you look into a person's eyes
If you look hard enough and the lighting is right and they are looking back at you
You might just see an ocean
You see
We are oceans
We are made from light and liquid and life
We hide layers and layers of secrets
Whispers lost in mist
Shouts that crash against stone and sand
We speak in our own tongues of salt water
We form our own little circles
Of sea and sky and rain
We wear them as our crowns
Or we hide them in our chests
A little ring around our hearts
We follow the pull of our own tides
Sometimes they collide
Sometimes we collide
A burst of foam, white against the sky
Water meeting water
Two oceans converging
Sometimes we collide
But land masses rise between us
And we ebb away on our separate paths
You see
We never realise how deep we are
Oceans disguised as puddles
Depth mistaken for shallowness
Still waters run deep
But we are not still
We are oceans that rage and roar and storm
That pull with currents even when the sky is clear
Oceans that brim with life and mystery
Illusion and emotion
Still waters run deep?
Rough waters run deeper
If you look into a person's eyes
You will see that ocean
It is the blood that flows through our veins
The air we breathe
For we are all oceans
And so, so much more
If you look hard enough and the lighting is right and they are looking back at you
You might just see an ocean
You see
We are oceans
We are made from light and liquid and life
We hide layers and layers of secrets
Whispers lost in mist
Shouts that crash against stone and sand
We speak in our own tongues of salt water
We form our own little circles
Of sea and sky and rain
We wear them as our crowns
Or we hide them in our chests
A little ring around our hearts
We follow the pull of our own tides
Sometimes they collide
Sometimes we collide
A burst of foam, white against the sky
Water meeting water
Two oceans converging
Sometimes we collide
But land masses rise between us
And we ebb away on our separate paths
You see
We never realise how deep we are
Oceans disguised as puddles
Depth mistaken for shallowness
Still waters run deep
But we are not still
We are oceans that rage and roar and storm
That pull with currents even when the sky is clear
Oceans that brim with life and mystery
Illusion and emotion
Still waters run deep?
Rough waters run deeper
If you look into a person's eyes
You will see that ocean
It is the blood that flows through our veins
The air we breathe
For we are all oceans
And so, so much more
Release
|
Entanglement contrives complications.
Quivering, spasming eyes, palpitations.
Blunt the knitting, winding temperament,
Tamp down the scent of unbridled amusement.
Barrelled fish quiver: insomnia,
Spasming; blink away euphoria.
Try once to roughen up in terror,
Half-baked, conjoined; a fatal error
Mocks the asymptote of your brow
Reclining, declining; ponder how
Quipping, simmering, start to crescendo:
Liberate the explosion, dormant and mellow.
Requiem for the melodic song,
Reclining morality knows no wrong.
Decline the containment you were offered,
The end was neither seen nor heard.
Quivering, spasming eyes, palpitations.
Blunt the knitting, winding temperament,
Tamp down the scent of unbridled amusement.
Barrelled fish quiver: insomnia,
Spasming; blink away euphoria.
Try once to roughen up in terror,
Half-baked, conjoined; a fatal error
Mocks the asymptote of your brow
Reclining, declining; ponder how
Quipping, simmering, start to crescendo:
Liberate the explosion, dormant and mellow.
Requiem for the melodic song,
Reclining morality knows no wrong.
Decline the containment you were offered,
The end was neither seen nor heard.
worth
|
does the destination of our designated path
define the dim future behind the smoke screen
and the perpetual pay-day prove
our worth
does talent in a typically unseen art
mean we have to live a haphazard existence
cursed to forever question
our worth
do competition, commendation and compensation
make our opportunistic lives obsolete
do we always have to follow society’s stiff standards
to prove
our worth
for those who lack the passion for the predictable
who lament their lackluster recognition of
our worth
who won’t make it in this whirlwind world
without the luck of fame or fortune
who long for the expression of emotion
and intimate interpretation
even if you’re told you’re useless in today’s world
always know
your worth
define the dim future behind the smoke screen
and the perpetual pay-day prove
our worth
does talent in a typically unseen art
mean we have to live a haphazard existence
cursed to forever question
our worth
do competition, commendation and compensation
make our opportunistic lives obsolete
do we always have to follow society’s stiff standards
to prove
our worth
for those who lack the passion for the predictable
who lament their lackluster recognition of
our worth
who won’t make it in this whirlwind world
without the luck of fame or fortune
who long for the expression of emotion
and intimate interpretation
even if you’re told you’re useless in today’s world
always know
your worth
TTYL
|
Part 1
fuzzy, blurted out in a single night and
“I want to talk to you more.”
not the most forward of introductions but, hey,
I thought you hated me.
so, I text later that night,
“I hope that wasn’t too awkward”
(please look at my whatsapp status)
and you reply
“yeah, but my turn to make things awkward now.”
so we stay up till 3a.m., I had a flight to london the next day
you talked about george orwell and kept making reference to the ministry of love and how we shall meet in the place where there is no darkness so, please, illuminate me.
and the schrodinger cat
how once you know whether the cat is alive or dead you can’t go back and so really you should prepare for the inevitable.
your pretentiousness should have been a red flag, but
you
you are what I love about myself and what I hate and
you
love makes you blind, or maybe the first stage of love is just denial
so I plead with you and say that this, my dear, this is the place without darkness, so open up the box and let’s take a look at the geiger counter
(did curiosity kill the cat?)
so we stayed up til 3 a.m., I had a flight to london the next day, and london was so different from you
I went to west end and walked hyde park and saw dinosaur bones and-
I saw you too.
you wake up at 5am to text me, on the tube I read 1984 again so I have something to talk to you about
one morning (or afternoon) you get scared because you said too much and I guess
you just didn’t trust me so you cut off communications and really I don’t feel much except
for that same gnawing anxiety that has been nibbling at my feet since day one anyway
I had a panic attack on the plane-
and
at your whims we make up again go on our first date (i had to bring my friend along because of my mom) and she hated you and i suppose that I saw why but I told myself that I was just making things up and
always at your whims-
red flags
why didn’t I see the red flags?
you invite me over text.
you promised to bring me to six flags. in december. six flags seems so far away now and all I see are red flags-
red lights
racing you down the pavement but you aren’t beside me.
I don’t see you. I’ve ran past you. ran past us. ran past the promise of six flags that never came true because
red lights. I don’t move on. I stop. Traffic stops me and my heart stops
beating. beating for you. beating for us.
our hearts used to beat as one. now, we are two. two people. two hearts. two heartbeats.
one but not the same.
you text me one day, a lazy summer afternoon when heat laces the air and it’s too humid to be pleasant.
hey. do you even want to talk?
I bite my lip. yes. no. yes.
when did our lines blur so much? when did we blur? when did yes become maybe to become no?
ttyl, I reply. I don’t really want to talk to you right now so I reduce my words to four letters so it’s as close as possible to nothing.
I don’t really want to talk to you. ever again, actually.
PART 2
I love you
if you keep saying something over and over-
I love you
eventually-
I love you
it loses its meaning
I love you
I love you too.
I sent you so many letters
they collect on your doorstep, in the rain they soak through and become sodden wet paper mush
you pretend your mailbox is broken
my letters are left unanswered, unread,
somehow- somewhere-
I hope you don’t send any letters back. I don’t want to remember you better than
I need to.
maybe you don’t live where I think you do
maybe I just don’t like reading letters
maybe I am not who you think I am
maybe I am not who you think I am
after the first few months I kind of gave up
that’s my fault
that’s my fault
i the end I know I occupy your every minute and you are just my callouses and ink-stained fingers but yet
my brain is filled with you. with your smile and your laugh and you. you are my millions of stars in the night sky that I don’t count
because it’s too bright for stars, the city glare obscures the night sky. you make all the constellations I cannot name.
and anyway in singapore we can only wish on satellites, red, blinking, forever at their whims as they spin around the dazed earth moving and shifting and orbiting and they make up all the constellations I cannot touch-
because you are untouchable. you are oh, so untouchable.
I am not lady macbeth, trying to scrub guilt out of my red stained hands
I just want to erase us
I still write letters to you, I just never send them anymore
this may be one of them. I seal my envelopes but before they reach the mailbox I tear them apart because I think
I’m not good enough for you. This letter means nothing to me. and to you.
you stain everything I see, everything I hear, everything I write, everything I think
I write and I crash and I burn.
PART 3
I will give you false love and fake smiles and you buy it all.
I would buy it all, all again, all for you.
It has come to attention that all my letters will stay unanswered.
maybe you sent them to the wrong address
maybe I just didn’t want to write any more letters to you
I write paragraphs that I delete because I’m terrified.
of you.
why won’t you call me back?
I call you-
at 1 am the night before a math test 9 times until I pick up till I plead with you to let me go but no, you own me you owe me so no we won’t stop until we talk till 4am and until I cry for you I say I love you till I regurgitate it till it tastes of something shameful till you satisfy yourself and you say
I love you
so why won’t you love me back?
this is why I don’t love you back
because you always make me wait
wait for you
wait for you in the pouring rain
I don’t have an umbrella with me.
Part 4
11.11,
wishes I make that don’t come true
because I don’t make them at all.
11.11 means nothing to me anymore.
it’s 11.11 and we used to text each other every night at 11.11 wishing for better tomorrows
but now I am becoming increasingly confused at your behaviour
11.11, I wish for
a broken heart and a failed
romance, and
anyone but him.
this isn’t really a fairy tale anymore isn’t it? the princess is never supposed to leave the prince, my dear, did you read your lines wrong?
11.12, I want to go. my time
is up. the clock is striking twelve
minutes.
why aren’t you still cinderella with your glass slippers and beautiful dress and your golden hair shimmering in the chandelier glow, why aren’t you mine anymore, mine mine mine mine-
my wish is leaving me, just
like I wish to leave you.
why didn’t you send any letters? you knew something was wrong. you know everything is wrong. why didn’t you try harder? why don’t you want to be mine?
I’m just tired. of you and of
us. it’s getting late.
goodnight.
Part 5
so I had been in london, and you were back home
but the cold london air had given me more warmth than you had ever given me.
I told you I went to hyde park. I told you I saw dinosaur bones. I told you I had walked through westminster alley and saw buckingham palace-
I didn’t see them at all. I stayed in my hotel because london was too big for me. but I told you I did anyway because
I didn’t want to seem cowardly. to you. I wanted to tell you that I saw the world that you didn’t see.
I make myself a pretense for you.
I glance up for just a brief calculated second into your eyes and then look down again.
I don’t think you can tell im faking myself for you.
the strange thing is I guess I never dated you in the first place.
fuzzy, blurted out in a single night and
“I want to talk to you more.”
not the most forward of introductions but, hey,
I thought you hated me.
so, I text later that night,
“I hope that wasn’t too awkward”
(please look at my whatsapp status)
and you reply
“yeah, but my turn to make things awkward now.”
so we stay up till 3a.m., I had a flight to london the next day
you talked about george orwell and kept making reference to the ministry of love and how we shall meet in the place where there is no darkness so, please, illuminate me.
and the schrodinger cat
how once you know whether the cat is alive or dead you can’t go back and so really you should prepare for the inevitable.
your pretentiousness should have been a red flag, but
you
you are what I love about myself and what I hate and
you
love makes you blind, or maybe the first stage of love is just denial
so I plead with you and say that this, my dear, this is the place without darkness, so open up the box and let’s take a look at the geiger counter
(did curiosity kill the cat?)
so we stayed up til 3 a.m., I had a flight to london the next day, and london was so different from you
I went to west end and walked hyde park and saw dinosaur bones and-
I saw you too.
you wake up at 5am to text me, on the tube I read 1984 again so I have something to talk to you about
one morning (or afternoon) you get scared because you said too much and I guess
you just didn’t trust me so you cut off communications and really I don’t feel much except
for that same gnawing anxiety that has been nibbling at my feet since day one anyway
I had a panic attack on the plane-
and
at your whims we make up again go on our first date (i had to bring my friend along because of my mom) and she hated you and i suppose that I saw why but I told myself that I was just making things up and
always at your whims-
red flags
why didn’t I see the red flags?
you invite me over text.
you promised to bring me to six flags. in december. six flags seems so far away now and all I see are red flags-
red lights
racing you down the pavement but you aren’t beside me.
I don’t see you. I’ve ran past you. ran past us. ran past the promise of six flags that never came true because
red lights. I don’t move on. I stop. Traffic stops me and my heart stops
beating. beating for you. beating for us.
our hearts used to beat as one. now, we are two. two people. two hearts. two heartbeats.
one but not the same.
you text me one day, a lazy summer afternoon when heat laces the air and it’s too humid to be pleasant.
hey. do you even want to talk?
I bite my lip. yes. no. yes.
when did our lines blur so much? when did we blur? when did yes become maybe to become no?
ttyl, I reply. I don’t really want to talk to you right now so I reduce my words to four letters so it’s as close as possible to nothing.
I don’t really want to talk to you. ever again, actually.
PART 2
I love you
if you keep saying something over and over-
I love you
eventually-
I love you
it loses its meaning
I love you
I love you too.
I sent you so many letters
they collect on your doorstep, in the rain they soak through and become sodden wet paper mush
you pretend your mailbox is broken
my letters are left unanswered, unread,
somehow- somewhere-
I hope you don’t send any letters back. I don’t want to remember you better than
I need to.
maybe you don’t live where I think you do
maybe I just don’t like reading letters
maybe I am not who you think I am
maybe I am not who you think I am
after the first few months I kind of gave up
that’s my fault
that’s my fault
i the end I know I occupy your every minute and you are just my callouses and ink-stained fingers but yet
my brain is filled with you. with your smile and your laugh and you. you are my millions of stars in the night sky that I don’t count
because it’s too bright for stars, the city glare obscures the night sky. you make all the constellations I cannot name.
and anyway in singapore we can only wish on satellites, red, blinking, forever at their whims as they spin around the dazed earth moving and shifting and orbiting and they make up all the constellations I cannot touch-
because you are untouchable. you are oh, so untouchable.
I am not lady macbeth, trying to scrub guilt out of my red stained hands
I just want to erase us
I still write letters to you, I just never send them anymore
this may be one of them. I seal my envelopes but before they reach the mailbox I tear them apart because I think
I’m not good enough for you. This letter means nothing to me. and to you.
you stain everything I see, everything I hear, everything I write, everything I think
I write and I crash and I burn.
PART 3
I will give you false love and fake smiles and you buy it all.
I would buy it all, all again, all for you.
It has come to attention that all my letters will stay unanswered.
maybe you sent them to the wrong address
maybe I just didn’t want to write any more letters to you
I write paragraphs that I delete because I’m terrified.
of you.
why won’t you call me back?
I call you-
at 1 am the night before a math test 9 times until I pick up till I plead with you to let me go but no, you own me you owe me so no we won’t stop until we talk till 4am and until I cry for you I say I love you till I regurgitate it till it tastes of something shameful till you satisfy yourself and you say
I love you
so why won’t you love me back?
this is why I don’t love you back
because you always make me wait
wait for you
wait for you in the pouring rain
I don’t have an umbrella with me.
Part 4
11.11,
wishes I make that don’t come true
because I don’t make them at all.
11.11 means nothing to me anymore.
it’s 11.11 and we used to text each other every night at 11.11 wishing for better tomorrows
but now I am becoming increasingly confused at your behaviour
11.11, I wish for
a broken heart and a failed
romance, and
anyone but him.
this isn’t really a fairy tale anymore isn’t it? the princess is never supposed to leave the prince, my dear, did you read your lines wrong?
11.12, I want to go. my time
is up. the clock is striking twelve
minutes.
why aren’t you still cinderella with your glass slippers and beautiful dress and your golden hair shimmering in the chandelier glow, why aren’t you mine anymore, mine mine mine mine-
my wish is leaving me, just
like I wish to leave you.
why didn’t you send any letters? you knew something was wrong. you know everything is wrong. why didn’t you try harder? why don’t you want to be mine?
I’m just tired. of you and of
us. it’s getting late.
goodnight.
Part 5
so I had been in london, and you were back home
but the cold london air had given me more warmth than you had ever given me.
I told you I went to hyde park. I told you I saw dinosaur bones. I told you I had walked through westminster alley and saw buckingham palace-
I didn’t see them at all. I stayed in my hotel because london was too big for me. but I told you I did anyway because
I didn’t want to seem cowardly. to you. I wanted to tell you that I saw the world that you didn’t see.
I make myself a pretense for you.
I glance up for just a brief calculated second into your eyes and then look down again.
I don’t think you can tell im faking myself for you.
the strange thing is I guess I never dated you in the first place.