The view: outwards and onwards

Drifting through the meadows
of my spacious consciousness
is the hope of finding again
the opportunity of engaging
in

looking forward to
the "talk-that-never-was"
or to the "hug-that-never-will-be"

And there we pass again,
not by the same street sign
but to the invisible stitch
protruding somewhere
just above our beer-filled bellies

a place for drowned
winged-insects that once
fluttered by here and there inside
with rainbow colored flaps

This time we say (in chorus or not):
"Here lies
something broken
and unappeased,
it had lived and then died,
was sort of there and then no longer."

for the seventh blasted time.

Consumption

A night in coffee is a night of ecstasy.

Caffeinated breaths,
conspired,
luring out castrated thoughts.

Mid-air mind-flights,
solicited,
booming extemporaneous laughters.

And a cloaked skyline,
liberated,
scattering romantics and poetic fools.

:)

And we're pretty because we say so. ;)

Friends, no matter how difficult you are to be with, stick with you like glue.

A fictitious night to not remember

You lean on me. Slowly, I feel your breath so close to my face. And I could smell the alcohol seeping from your tongue. I don't want to be kissed the way you want it to be. I don't want to fall victim to those ogle-ly eyes that lure me into your arms and your voice that tells me that I am your prey.

Saying that I'm pretty over and over doesn't help at all, it only makes my notion of you, being the typical player that you are, stronger brick by brick. I gulped and inched away and playfully shoved you to the side as I take the whole thing as a joke.

But your face for a matter of two to three seconds show signs of disappointment and irritation blending all so perfectly well. I beamed at you and nudged you again to lighten up the mood, and of course you play along. You don't want to lose me. To lose the challenge you put yourself up with.

I am the challenge. The prize. And the sore loser of your game.

I knew it all along, but here I am still clinging onto you. Dazzled by your flawed and clichéd act of strumming the chords of my heart (or every girl's heart), I lose my logic. Or maybe it's there but I had it on 'passive' mode.

Seriously, you play by the book in which I had already skimmed but you have mastered. You are a true player but I refuse to admit that you're better at it.

Here it goes again, your hands snake along my arms down to my immobile hands and your fingers intertwining along with mine. I obliged. I let you hypnotize me once more. We are too close for comfort and the lack of distance suffocates me to the core.

In need of space and clear thoughts I pushed you away further. There I could breathe. And I untangled myself from the invisible bonds you wished were real.

You cooed me and pulled me a little closer, gently, afraid that I might fight your touch. I don't but I stayed where I was.

It was for a second or two that I realized I was holding my breath. You sighed and relented to your side, anticipating my next move.

Like chess, like checkers, like a splendid game of scrabble and snakes and ladders.

I don't want to be kissed the way you expected it to happen. I don't want to kiss someone I think I know, nearly a stranger, a passerby. I want to make sure you're still there in the morning, have breakfast together, celebrate an anniversary for the 20th time at our favorite spot, have afternoon teas as we talk about mundane things and spend the night cuddling till we're fast asleep again. That was the kind of kiss I wanted to give and share.

But you put up your effervescent wall every time and there's just nothing I could do at all. I left it at that. What can I do with such a seasoned firewall?

We shared a forced smile and a laugh that faded all too quickly, maybe because it was fake? We didn't care.

After the most awkward 15 minutes of our lives, we called it a night. And later told ourselves that nothing ever happened.

People, especially the weakest in facing their fears, are good at that. Ignoring what obviously can't be disregarded, but still it had to be so.

It was no more less than fiction. Just a sudden test of attraction, leading to an almost epic failure.

No one will believe us anyway.

a little wish

I'd like to see the sunset again.

with all those pretty

sad

hues

and

touchy tones

of colors

reigniting

the embers of our

forgotten hearts

Simplified

Been stuck in bed for almost a day, sick and frustrated (not the sexual kind), and all I have for a companion is my trusty laptop which I named Ishnie.
And after browsing the entirety of my Facebook account and listening to random music, I have decided to mess with my blog. I haven't had the proper mood to write something or anything in weeks, but I had this urge to decorate/change something in my blogsite.

And then, maybe I could get my mojo back. It may be a trivial thing but hey, this could help in uplifting the inspiration-ban inside my head.
Other than thinking red monkeys singing La Bamba on top of Taj Mahal and a full-grown elephant dangling from a tree on a cliff, I would really like to free myself from such horrid and surreal thoughts. Take a pen and scribble sensible things in my journal once more.

And so, after two hours of deciding whether to go goth, idiotic and uncaring for my blog's look, it took this surreal sketch on my header to establish what I want my blogsite to look like. I trimmed it to a sheer white impression and used a part in the lyrics of a song I've been listening to more than 5 times today (talk about LSS).

Upload, delete, upload. And there you have it. I painted it white and stained it with my entries, each letter representing a distant memory and every punctuation deserved a contemplative pause.



Satisfied with what I've done, I took a nap, and told you.

Plummet to affliction

Letting go of someone so dear is like watching an elephant dangling from a tree. It is unheard of, it is quite impossible but not necessarily non-imaginable.

Waiting for the inevitable fall.

Martyrdom doesn't really mean to die for the sake of many or for one. Well of course, that would mean defying dictionary-term definitions, but is there a need for death to prove we care? In love, we get that a lot especially from romance films that sacrifice signifies the greatness of one's affection towards another. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the love is (yeah right~).

Think Bea and John Lloyd: Girl meets Boy, they fall in love. Years passed Boy falls out of love and despite the heart's protest, Girl accepts this fate and lets it all go. Just to secure Boy's happiness.

This is what I mean by the common set up in most heartbreaking scenes for romance flicks. Or it might be the other way around. The male protagonist would be the one to play the hero and smile sadly as he watches the girl he loves run into the arms of the newfound happiness.

It's not exactly death, but the torment blustering inside could naturally equate it so. For the select who haven't lived the experience, we hear stories, catch it on movies, dramas and read about them. We may even sometimes laugh about them and say how corny, how unreal and pathetic it all sounds. However, once the tables have turned it would be our past selves who will jest about our plight.And it's because we can only think of it but not really feel it. Like hearing people out or giving pieces of advice to a friend, you'll never know exactly what to say unless you've been there and gone through with it yourself.

-

How many times should you let someone go until you'd just stop and think, "why"?

-

You love them, care for them and eventually assume that they'd stay in your life for more than forever, but what happens if they don't? Not that I'm being pessimistic.

But that's the way it is. The Inevitable is herald to departure and farewells. As much as we'd want them to stay, their lives are not in our hands and their choices are not ours to make.

-

Why bother clinging to someone too much when you know at the end of it all, suffering awaits? Masochism.

Sacrifice. And the best damn answer, Love.

-

To recall, I heard someone say to me once, "It's love when you choose to keep all the hurt inside just to spare those special people from frowns and aches."

Just to say triumphantly (or tragically) that they deserve to be happy (like you don't?).

The thing is we all do deserve to be happy, and insisting to continuously mend something broken would later on wear it out until it becomes irreparable. 

 

-

Why prolong the agony of having no more love at all?

I say let the elephant have his fall.