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Stained cloth

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    How do you scrub the memories away and start anew?  It has left a big dark stain on a beautiful white cloth that's never been touched before. The way the cloth holds onto the stain, you'd forget it wasn't meant to be a part of it. You continue in your oblivion. You go on believing if it wasn't for the stain, the cloth wouldn't be anything but blank and empty. In a way, the stain is the cloth itself. What is the cloth without it? Like a dried bloodstain that only gets darker with time, it clings and deepens onto every fiber. Years go by, some days you completely ignore the stain, while other times, you can't help but focus on its darkness. It pulls you in again and again. And so one day, you decide to be done with it once and for all, you rub the cloth with both hands as you watch the water carry the bleeding red. While you try your best to get the stain off by tugging and pulling, you now see what was once white, has a tinge of red spread all over the cloth.
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Letters to my love

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Dear love, How are you, my darling? I hope you are happy and well. You ask if I'm well too Well, what can I say, The past few days have been crazy, euphoric, and more than just content, even though I was hardly sober this entire week. A rush of making good memories seems to be the agenda with my life right now. With the flow I go, loving each step I take. I walk hand in hand with laughter and joy, gripping it tightly in my palm as it dances in its own tunes. I'm not ready to let go of it just yet. This moment feels so beautiful and imperfect. A bit of tears and a lot of hugs and grins is all the medicine this lonely soul needs.Small doses is enough to mend my soul that’s been scratched all over and stamped upon. I'm not sure if this will last more than this minute. I'm not sure if I would ever be as happy as I am now. But one thing's sure this minute, This Millisecond I am happy. Right now, it's 3am and I'm sleepless and hungover, as I watch the dark sleepin
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Lost love; love I thought I had.

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Love alone is not enough to keep us alive. There was some likelihood that you and I would eventually learn how to let our love grow for one another, though. Till then, feel free to leave at any time. I'll go to any lengths to show myself the love I deserve. I'm going to stop waiting on you and instead envelop myself in the love I thought I had with you. I see my existence as extremely real, even though you may be a complete ghost. I've given up trying to put us back together. I am complete without you, and even after you discarded me like I was last week's trash, I will always be a gorgeous, amazing mess.  Written on : April 22, 2021
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Dark clouded mind

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Give out compliments and good words (and mean it)as freely as possible. These words are the only light source that lights up every dark-clouded mind.✨ Written on: 11 April 2017
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My dear, Hope

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  I had a daughter once, her name was Hope. Oh, you should've seen how my heart leaped in joy when I held her in my arms. Every fiber in me was dedicated to making her safe and showering her with all the love I could give. I cradled her in my arms. Oh, you should've seen how her tiny fingers were my reason to live. She was my love. My own. I spent nights stroking her hair and showing her off to the moon as its competitor. I held her close to me always. Blocking and pushing away the things that might prick her baby skin. Oh, I wish I could buy love in the supermarket, buy it for her and gift wrap it with care and dreams and give every stock they have, to my precious. And I would happily spend years paying it off with nothing but her happiness in return. Oh, i dreamt I held my baby Hope, in my hands singing to her on rainy nights till my coffee got cold and I dozed off, my baby Hope sound asleep in my arms. But one day I had a horrific dream, I dreamt that my hope was gone. I sea
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Lost boy

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  On a sunny yet windy June day, I give out posters to random passersby on the street. With a worried tone, I ask them if they've seen the man on the poster. He's been missing. I ask them if they can identify the man, for he's been long gone. I ask them if they've seen a man who is slightly taller than me, a slight tilt of my head is all that's needed to see his twinkling eyes. A man with a smile that is ever so rare yet like an innocent stretch of glee similar to that of a child's. A few of those on his face is enough to ease the world's troubles. I ask them if they've seen a man who walks around with a lost gaze yet can put me in my place. A man who has this endless need to use complex vocabulary yet bad grammar. If you find this man, Tell him I'm okay. I've missed him but I'm okay. Tell him I've missed how he sounds through messages and unexpected calls. I've missed his warm hands on my cold cheek and the certainty I had. Tell him
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A Writer

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  Your words were a permanent impression in my mind. Even though my fingers smudge the ends of every word written with fresh ink all over me, in attempts to touch it - a fool's attempt to think that those words were as tangible as you. But yet the smudged letters were readable. Soon enough the words felt more tangible in fact it was the only tangible thing as the writer ceased to exist, leaving only shattered dust and scrap in my memory. But the words remain. Smudged and faded yet the words remain. And now I am in search of a new writer whose application would fill this empty seat and remain there to write the same poem on my mind over and over again. Written : Dec 20, 2016
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