That Tired Bench

In a clogged world full of noise, I just want to be immersed in silence.

The depressing, dark-filled silence.

For not many find beauty in it, but agony and pain.

But what is a world without pain?

Would we know love if there was no hate?

Would we know what it felt like being complete without being broken?

So in the middle of that evening, I sat on that silent bench.

As people rushed to catch their evening bus home,

Seemingly to their ever happy homes.

I knew why darkness was beautiful, at that moment.

I understood why the best of time comes after the worst.

It wasn’t the cold evening breeze that made itself felt,

But the promise of a beautiful starry night revealed itself on the horizon.

So I sat there, on a freezing bench, breathing in sets of fresh air with mounts of foulness in it.

It must have silently seen worse days pass by, as I had seen better days come to pass.

And grew tired of them.

Nothing is ever perfect, not even the sincerest smiles of the universe.

Its flaws ensure its beauty never runs dry.

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Promise Me

It’s the last day of a long year.

Nothing has changed, really, to the better.

It is as it was, the first day of the year.

I’m still drowning in my own tears.

I can’t stop because of a heavy heart.

Everything in between the year was as beautiful as the universe itself.

A universe drenched in darkness.

As promises echoed through my veins, my smile got rearranged.

My laughter replaced.

It felt like heaven, the darkness itself.

Somehow it turned into my light.

Something about drowning,

Something about hitting the bottom was liberating.

Something about it was unexplainable.

The only way after hitting the rock bottom, was up.

But I needed to take my rock bottom with me.

For it fired me into everything I was.

A new being, facing anything.

I yearned for everything in-between the darkness and light.

Ships sink for letting water in, not mine.

Sailing with the gods, to let the darkness in,

For it was the source of my light.

Until when I’m full, I’ll drown in her darkness, her broken promises.

And my broken pieces will be liberated into the light of the darkness.

But just promise me to pause, and enjoy the liberation.

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Ropes

It comes rushing in.

Like a beacon of hope, of a cure long waited for.

Like the ranting, of a populous crowd, suddenly stops.

Like a warm ambiance suddenly being ice cold.

Like a tiger finally breathing in, holding on to a breath before jumping on a prey.

Nothing else seems to matter.

Like blood boiling to its temporal points.

It pounces on you.

It doesn’t matter if you called to it.

It just rushes in, devouring every inch of every nerve.

It is more than a want, less of a basic need.

You didn’t need it, but now that it’s there, you can’t seem to go your lifetime without.

You’re courageous, but it seems not to recognize that.

On a constant feeding, never ending to your limits.

Sweat builds up, bringing satisfactory feeling.

Of a position you wanted to be in for so long.

But there you were, next to the edge of the bridge.

Sure with each passing inhale, and exhale.

So you jump.

Sure enough you won’t fly, but trusting enough something will pull you up.

The rope tied to your body.

A security of assurance that once it’s over, it’ll be scrapped off your bucket list.

That rush of adrenaline, the moment you step of a bungee jump.

Realizations creep in, there’s a limit of how low can you go.

The sky has never been a limit.

The cringing limit of how low you can go before bouncing back up is the real question of your ropes to answer.

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Walkway To His Heaven

“I still remember the day I left him.

It was cold.

Not your typical cold weather, but my heart was cold.

Full of anger and possibilities of fun, I convinced myself he didn’t need me.

He didn’t need my loved-filled heart.

He needed to blossom.

And the only way was if he didn’t have my baggage.

You see, my beauty and think what baggage would I possibly have?

My constant nagging, my constant drinking, my constant shopping, my constant male friends!

You see, my heart was cold, and full of fun visions.

His was warm, and full of visions.

Even constant calls wasn’t enough, he still texted, cared, loved me.

But I didn’t need him, apart from the occasional steams of passions.

He was amazing, I wasn’t.

He said I was 99% angel and cared less of the 1% devil.

I said he should worry. The 1% was part of each of the 99% angel.

He forgave my young heart even when I indulged deeper into pleasures.

I needed more roughness around the steamy edges.

Then, I saw him walk by the other day!

Lovely strides I thought.

The kinds that make you want with desire.

Then a lady approached him, simple to the eye, sophisticated to the mind.

I never saw any beauty that matched to hers; I’m still impressed, to date.

She hugged him, kissed him lightly on his soft lips; I remember their taste so vividly.

How I wish I had them next to my neck, breathing gentle warm air as he talks about his world.

I was destroyed, crumbled from within.

She, all the while carried a small child, seemingly theirs.

My heart grew softer, warmer.

A tear dropped right out of his heaven’s gates.

Yes, he called my eyes the gates to a walkway to his heaven.

I turned around, and walked away to the path I came with.

Holding on tightly to a shopping bag filled with a drunk’s shopping.

A faint whisper of a child calling him daddy broke my heart.

Carried by the winds, to torment me I presumed.

It broke, to a thousand pieces.

I guess that’s how he felt when I left.”

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Seconds of Composure

At times we feel lost,

Sometimes those times feel like forever,

Lost in a world that doesn’t exist,

Our minds wonder to the edges,

Edges of sharp bends and dark corners,

We can’t say we know where we’re going,

Neither can we say where we are,

And we hardly remember where we’re from,

All we know; our feet are moving,

Always moving forward,

Never stopping to catch a breath,

Scars that tell endless stories,

Of what once was,

But never is,

Scars of what tried to break us,

Trading all for mere seconds of composure,

We wish we had it all,

Of course we did,

Once upon a time,

They help with the insomniac nights,

Those tale-lies we lullaby to ourselves at night,

Anything goes to not stay awake in our dreams,

For they came with iced-darkness,

Yet no one knows who let it in,

The flash of shimmering light!

When we know,

We’ll open our dusty old war-room,

Ready to fight with the light,

In a battle that doesn’t exist!

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His Sister

Everyone thought he had it, everything everyone ever wanted.

Blessed beyond, a life full of perfection.

But only he knew of his crumbling world, piece by piece.

His father was but a business mogul, a self-proclaimed self-made.

The mother, standing audaciously courts, human rights activist, the force to reckon with.

Life made sure he was the only child, as spoilt as they came, they all thought.

Yet in their perfect house full of dark corners, the demons resided, lurking, waiting, thriving in the shadows.

The sister, no more, couldn’t fight any longer, she had to go to a better place were her words.

Words that were scribbled deep in her arms.

A father engulfed in rage, and violence towards his better or worse.

Spending her nights, drowning sorrows, and alcohol.

Their father eager to teach life lessons if mouths were opened to the public.

He too indulged, in his mother’s quest.

And he sat there that evening, waking up from a life-crippling “coma”.

He needed to know what he lived for, what gave him the renewed hope of life.

The sunset came early, he tears made a final sunset down his face.

It was his time, to save himself.

His sister’s smile flashed before his clogged eyes, ready to remind him of what she’s to give him now.

A chance to live right, a choice to build well, a change that would start with him.

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She’s Ready, Again.

She wants, to build her wings again, and again.

The tailored-soft touches running on her bare skin, again.

A vibrant heart it was, yearning to be held, again.

She didn’t mind it took her long, her patience paid off, again.

What mattered was her time came, to stretch out her wings, again.

Her soul burnt in its own fire, calmed down by his mere presence, again.

The masterpiece of creations was their ultimate desire, again.

He took his time, in every muscle, with every feather, to get her ready, again.

A stare so deep, it held them steady, each breath came with courage to fly, again.

Goosebumps replaced her maiden skin; she’ll no longer be alone, again.

A heart that need a key, but she wasn’t ready to search, again.

Little not knowing that he saw it, she was the key, again.

Not to unlock another’s heart, but to unlock her true nature, again.

Releasing a much waited upon energy, feeding the earth with rains, again.

Eyes filled water, to rain down her face, again.

They awakened their minds’ desires, yet she needed to see it on her own first, again.

Tired of running, she was tired of holding onto deadweight, again and again.

Their lips locked, she released herself from her misery, again.

She won, in the darkness, again.

Getting there at the exact moment was perfect, she reminded herself, again.

His hand slid down her waist, grabbing onto her, again.

A moment’s worth of feeling, cherished now, and again.

Her wings spread across the distance, eager to scurry the skies yet again.

Far more than yearning of his lips, his love, the urge to fly with him rose, again.

Against all odds!

Against all wars!

Against all breaking points!

Against all her past!

Her future was right there with them, ready to be nurtured, ready to be flown with them.

She was ready to step off the mountain, and fly, again!

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Missing The Moments

I want to miss the nights that turned into day.

I want to miss the words that turned into songs.

I want to miss the cries that turned into laughter.

I want to miss the eyes that turned red.

I want to miss the ones that turned cruel.

I want to miss the sunrise that turned into sunset.

I want to miss seeing the mandarin that turned away from its path to a better pond.

I want to miss, every result of any action.

I want to miss all that, but never the in-between.

Let me not miss the magic that happens between the moments, please!

Let me not miss the majestic walk of a Mandarin down its path, please!

Let me not miss the breathtaking magic that happens in a day, in-between the sunrises and sunsets, please!

Let me not miss the precious moments of failing to understand how cruelty comes into being, please!

Let me not miss the beauty of starry eyes, underneath painful tears, please!

Let me not miss the magic of heavy hearts being brightened up to be as velvety as a white rose, please!

Let me not miss the long nights that signify the birth origin of the greatest songs to ever play in the hearts of men and women, please!

Let me not miss the amazing nights that give way to clear brighter days, please!

Let me have a grateful heart, please!

missing the moments

To My Friend

An open letter to my dear friend who wants to commit suicide.

Hallo human,

They say it’s courteous to introduce yourself. But I’m guessing in this instance it’s not necessary because we have interacted in some way, which is why i am penning this in the first place.

Pardon me, but i will probably apologize, too much.

I’m sorry i have not been there for you. At times i just get caught up, you know, in my own my battles i forget you need me.

I’m sorry my phone is off and your calls go unanswered, most times when you need me.

I would lie and say i was asleep, but maybe i was just getting love or wasted. Or I just didn’t want to talk to anyone.

You might want to ask me why I didn’t call back, so please don’t! As saying i forgot will suck!

I ‘m sorry you want out.

I ‘m sorry life is just cruel and you can’t deal.

Trust me; i know what that is like.

Sorry your partner abuses you!

Sorry your partner cheated!

Sorry you do everything for them but they keep taking you for granted.

Sorry no one likes you.

Sorry your friends never see you.

Sorry I suck and keep forgetting about you.

I ‘m SORRY for everything, I really am.

But then again, I know you can put that razor down!

You can flush, all pills or whatever poison fancies you want to ingest, down the toilet.

Not many people can go through what you have.

I applaud you honey. And most of all, we have a come a long way, TOGETHER.

Both you and me. . . . So please don’t leave me? I know i am not your best friend or friend. You have neither!

I know i am just one of these inked girls on the Internet, but i actually get your pain.

You know i do.

So please stay with me . . . Don’t do it.

Nothing lasts forever! And so your pain will vanish.

 

With love,

Your Dear Friend.sad-crying

 

Frail Heart

My eyes stare into the horizon, quick to understand what life is not.

The sound of my frail heart, beating, to assure me of a life being lived,

Against the rushing winds, going nowhere fast!

I have my journey to live out, every step to step on.

No one wants to be ripples in a dying out pond, especially my heart.

It wants to live, a fulfilling life full of smiles and laugher.

A life full of purpose, and bittersweet execution of ideas well thought of.

Those shivering moments, of standing against the wind, is what life is about.

Those shivering moments, of gathering enough thresholds, is what life is about.

I want to take off, even when I stand in these gashing winds.

Get enough thresholds to get to the ever-ending skies.

My direction will be dealt with, once in the skies.

That yearns, to be oblivious of anything around you.

A need to soar the limitless skies, unbound by hate or love!

Nothing but the sound of my frail heart pushing me to go higher, faster!

I’m not sick, but sickness is my disease.

Sickness of always flying better, remembering to forget I was but a helpless child.

Knowing nothing but living life, now it’s just a matter of the moments that take my breath.

For the long days, and nights, I wait silently as the winds blow.

Silently watching the horizon, listening closely to the cries of my heart,

In another life, I would have been in the air force, or a pilot,

But this is it, this is my life, I will be just me.

Not letting my life be what it would be, but!

Let me take a role, together with the universe far in the horizon, to shape what is mine.

Tempting fate to play my cards right, because my frail heart knows there are no right cards.

For now, I just have a frail heart, beating, assuring me of a life that will be well lived.broken heart

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