Schizophrenic (13/2/2014)

Out of rhythm.
Growing expectations and disappointments.
It is true-

I'm not ready for this after all.

Hummingbird Heartbeat (13/2/2014)

The heart is a precarious creature.
It feels too much.
And that day, it beat so fast it was flying
as though it would escape the ribcages

Leaping out to find you.

Topic: Friendship (for SSA YEP exhibition, 29/1/2014)

In a sea of foreign faces

Braving the sands in our eyes

The chill in our bones

I reached out for your hands

And they were once cold

Then warm.

“Do you miss home?”

But home is where comrades reunite

Hearts reconvening

After long periods of silence among us.

“Are you cold?”

But I was standing among suns

Burning bright 

With sun-sized dreams and smiles.

In between broken words and sentences

Braving the winds of judgment

The hearts stripped of all pretenses

We reached out for each other’s hearts

And they were cold

Then warm.

Night (Prose/May 2013)

When she woke up with tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably, all that she could grasp were the touch of his hands and the promise they made.

She forgot about the dream for months thereafter, and lamented endlessly on the futility of love at this stage of her life. She was young, she could be happy remaining single for a long time. None are suitable at the moment, she would remind herself consistently. Once in a while, she would spot a bud blossoming but she would think too much and before it had a chance to flaunt its petals, she stretched out her hands and tore it apart. And the petals were left scattered and unborn.

In the solitude of the night, she would sit among piles of books, magazines and papers and occasionally tear up at a song, a memory or a related thought. There were also days where the word love didn't seem to exist, and she went about her daily routines and tasks. Sometimes, she was undecided about her choices, and other times she felt like no one would ever choose her. A dream would come on every now and then, of a phantom being holding her close. Every single time, she thought she had it all figured out, but realised that she had remembered everything except his face. It's just a dream, and dreams like these never come true, she would mutter to herself afterwards and hopped out of bed to begin the rest of her day wondering about everything.

That night when she spoke to the wind, she thought of how she could have seen the same moon lifetimes ago, and that past present or future, they have and will always be under the same sky. In the midst of sorting out her feelings, the moon was a shining silver coin that stood out against the darkness. A new sense of hope welled up within her, and the fog within her heart cleared for a moment. In that moment of clarity, she whispered: "I will find you no matter what."

But hours later and deeper into the night, she looked out of the window again and the moon was no longer there. Her search for light had only begun.

Shadow (Prose/May 2012)

"You are a shadow. A dark, long mysterious shadow. 

There is something hollow and yet full about the blackness of a shadow that intrigues me.

I am too bright a light; people can't look at me for too long because I am always too chirpy and upbeat and positive about life. (How can anyone be happy just like that?)

Do I not understand sadness? Do I not understand pain and disappointment? People marvel at my stark innocence and insouciance towards life. 

But I only wish to burn brighter to chase the darkness away. 

 *** 
 Do I wish for you to turn into light, to be like me? I love the way you are but because you are a shadow, you are impossible to grasp and hold on to. 

I can only look at you behind me, in front of me, at the sides. I can never really quite touch you. And that's why you are mysterious. You are beautiful. 

Are you empty? Or are you full? I cant quite reach you so can you tell me what do you consist of? What are your thoughts and feelings and opinions and dreams? Your goals? Do you plan to just exist only when there is light or do you wish to be more defined and solid? 

I've tried so hard to stretch myself out and reach to you, but still I can never quite touch you. 

 *** 

 Shadows. Are they veils? Are they a representation of what we want to have but can't have? Are they the darkness of light? 

 Where are you? Are you just a cloak that morphs and takes my shape? Why is it that you only exist when I shine so brightly? Who is going to pick me up when I turn cold and dark?

If a light is strong enough to survive on its own, what's the use of love then? Maybe that's why light is accompanied by shadows. You are a shadow. You disappear when I turn dark. I can never quite reach you. You are mysterious. You are beautiful. That's why I love you (and I will never love you)."

Sunrise (14/10/2013)

Your face encase a journey of storms and heavens

as I watched beside you over the years

but that day, the roar announced a new beginning

and I saw the first sun rise on your face

(All I did was to soak in this warmth)

Later, the palms touched as a goodbye

and in that moment

I understood the depths of our friendship-

a river of love that courses through

the air, our skin, across distance and

time

(May it never run dry)

An Imagined Fairytale (25/3/2013)

I, Humpty Dumpty;
You, picked up my pieces and
fixed me back again.

(Submitted this for SMU The Blue and Gold Haiku competition)

Journeys (8/3/2013)

Starting with one, it divides then multiply. 

More divisions and multiplications. 

They add and sit on the innocent ones, subtracting their presence. 

Add and subtract, add and subtract- till the old were gone and the new ravaged from within.

Anarchy.

They wade in crimson red, scouring for more to be lost in their rampage.

They swell with hatred, binge and then explode, littering the cavities, tunnels and walls. 

Bullets of pain aim fire, and she is pinned onto the ground.

Invasion after invasion, her heart beats, drumming the rhythm of life, refusing to stop. 

Time and again, she stands up, a warrior at the battlefield, a sailor navigating the rough seas.

Undefeated.

Faith is a compass that navigates even in damning darkness.

It is a sword that one wields, slaying all evil and protecting all good.

While fading, she twinkles the brightest  and bravest to the deepest corners of the Universe.

All who crosses her path keeps a ray of her light, igniting and sustaining them for eternity.

A thousand golden hands shall once again embrace the soul that has fought her hardest.

Another night sets in, ready for many more sunrises.

Infinite.
***
A tribute to the late Mrs Lim Ah Boi.

What is love (19/1/2013)

What is love if 

all I get are taps and arms around the shoulders

yet can never get my basic biography right

What is love if

there is no space to be with myself

suffocates and over-protects

What is love if

my understanding remains intellectual

and I fumble when we gaze

What is love if

it comes in a storm, hurricanes

and leaves a wreck of thoughts behind

What is love if

when rain falls at night

I fall asleep in tears

dreaming of a phantom pair of hands

holding myself together

only to wake up and never being able

to see his face.

(Re)lapse (25/12/2012)

blanketed in dust and darkness
pixels and colours were cold winds
that blew them all away

shards glistened like stars
saw his face in every fragment
picked them up with her hands
and they bled over his cheeks

now flushed red and alive

picked up another, yet another
cut herself a little more
reeling in the pleasure of pain
of a lapse in time, then a relapse

of memories...

her heart and trembling hands
could no longer withstand the loss
they beckoned her eyes to weep

every teardrop shattered
the stars and images that were welling up
slid into the fresh and burning scars
stitched the soul within

and he was buried deeper in dust and darkness.