The transient nature of life.

Sometimes, you have no answers for the questions that matter. You just stand there, in the middle of the night, waiting for somebody to come up and tell you that it’s going to be alright.

I had often wondered what it means to be sad. And I would wonder each time things ended, if this was what it meant to be sad person. Because to tell you the truth, all I want to feel for you right now is a sense of resentment but I cannot.

I get reminded of all the times that made me believe in love, the silent whispers of your heart talking to mine, through the randomness on a Saturday night. There were things that don’t always makes sense, but you know that  they exist somewhere beyond and that you need to know that they just do. I remember you telling me this when I had asked you for a reason. You had told me that you did not need a reason to feel the way you do.

But if you never need a reason to fall, did you not need a reason to leave?

It took me a while to forget people. I had long realised the transient nature of life. If somebody wanted to leave, there is little you can do to make them stay.

Sometimes, you have no answers for the questions that matter. You just stand forever in the almost and maybes, wondering where you could possibly go wrong. It goes right in front of your blurry vision, and all you can do is watching them leave through the gap between your fingers.

And when I saw this coming, I realised that even the sky had scars and I, was the only human to live with a few.



Have you ever found yourself in a situation where your mind sees your life to be perfect, but your soul feels all the way unsettled, just struggling to figure out what could be wrong? Have you ever stared blankly at the ceiling for hours together, with a lot on your mind, yet very little in your heart? Have you ever seen your closest person walk away, and you’re​ right there wanting to set it right but you’re utterly helpless?

How do you know you’re happy? Truly happy? And not just pleased with a situation or satisfied with a result?

“Are you happy?” is such a difficult question. I always say yes, because I have friends, I laugh at jokes, I go out a lot and have fun. My life isn’t as bad as it could be, and I don’t have terrible problems. It could be worse. Then comes the night, still awake lying in bed, thinking about life. I’m convinced that nobody likes me, or nobody will ever like the shy me. I feel horrible and I question everything I had and I don’t know if I was ever happy at all.

When you aren’t living for the weekends any longer, when a Tuesday feels just as worthy as a Saturday night and when you fall asleep easily on a Sunday night, that’s when you know it’s permanent!


Are all the colours in the rainbow enough to make you smile? My heart is yearning for something more. I’m jumping off the cliff without checking the landing, and you’re watching me with my poem at your fingertips. Your actions make me tremble. I’m begging you for mercy. Perhaps this is how we’re destined to begin : Me taking two steps forward, you taking one step back. I’m stuck by choice, and you’re keeping track of your every move.

Should you ever be caught off guard by the coldness of my heart, please remember that you did take one step back. At least you tried to save yourself (I couldn’t say the same for myself) Now we’re stuck by mistakes, waiting desperately for this veil of darkness to lift. This is how it feels like to be thirsty for light, for brightness, for hope. We can offer each other none of those things.

As you’re mining a way out to save yourself, and I watch your efforts hopelessly and think, perhaps this is how we’re going to end : Me always taking two steps forward, and you taking one step back. Have you ever wondered about the ‘later’ which never came?  If you’re wondering, there was a landing beneath the cliff – it wasn’t the kind I write poems about.


I notice you sitting alone across the cafe. You’re gingerly nursing your glass of mojito and glancing around the room before taking a sip.

Maybe you’re waiting for someone.

Maybe you’ve come with a friend. Or a lover.

Maybe you’ve come alone to drown your sorrows or some news that caused the wrinkles on your forehead.

Maybe you’re waiting to go back home to the arms of the person whose embrace has turned into comfort.

I see that ring clamped around your finger a little too tight for your comfort. I see you play with it for a while before you tucked the strand of your hair behind your ear.

I see the flicker of your eyes, your soft gaze against my curious hazel brown ones, just for a moment, and then watching them turn back to the glass in your hand.

There is something about you that I can’t quite place.

You’re stunning in a pair of casual jeans and that simple top with those flawless earrings. You are expectedly pretty.

You are beautiful in a way that doesn’t let me stop looking. You are soft. And warm.

Maybe if you wouldn’t have had that ring around your finger. Maybe I would’ve​ come up to you, asked about you, wondered if you’d ever consider me as someone you could love.

With first dates and your fingers brushing against mine on a winter evening.

With laughter and shared interest.

Maybe we would’ve made our own little world.

But beautiful people like you don’t fall in love with shy people like me.

Maybe we could’ve been more than just strangers.

But I promise I never would’ve been able to take my eyes off you.



Our shared headaches, stacked in tidy piles alongside regret and fear, pushed to the floor in the caress of a gentle exhale

spilled sentiment in the purest crystal color turning dark across the pavement, your eyes nailed to mine

somehow words stitch together the uneven seams of old patches, promises, ripped from the cavities in which I ache

Another night, I’m seeing you for the first time.


I keep asking why you never call, you don’t know how to say what you mean, I don’t know what you mean if you don’t say what you mean

the crackle, buzz, grain of radio silence is louder than the wail of baby birds nestled in the trees

this season is emptier, harsher that it ever was.


The leaves aren’t the only things that crash down and get dragged around my shoes

the wind tastes like the flat, sugary syrup of a drink let out to sit

the first time I saw you again I dissolved, swirling away, and you watched

the limbs of our friendship bear only emptiness and the ribcage protects only the remains of hope


They call it the end of life, when the plants wither into the earth, away from the sting of icy wind

and frosty air and bitter chills that tempt the tendrils of warmth expelled from my lips

you are a sensation I slowly familiarize myself with; the rush of fizzy water burning my tongue and throat with a pain I relish

each day you sit across from me, we’re worlds apart, but close enough to touch

you still tugged me in the frost

the skeleton framework of our friendship grows buds.


Blissful Affection

And it all fades so terribly nicely into two fine brewed coffee, sugary rain on the pink long gone streets and properly wild yet mild chaos. Little endearing moments of you. Ink marks in my brain, a heavy poetry dropping over me. Like Selena songs played on loop. It’s a far away that seeps into my heart, but it’s so close and I can almost touch it.

I squeezed your sorrow into rosewater, sprinkled it all over the cherry blossom trees you love so much. You’re looking into my hazel brown eyes, saying that I have the most beautiful eyes, like everything around you was dreadfully dead, I was the only person alive. Somehow, that look of nectar made me feel more alive than ever.

It goes into brief pictures of us laughing about the past that used to cause us anxiety. It is a transition so nostalgic and wonderful. Pausing the seconds, reading the line all over again. Wandering through crowds. Eating fries in an earthy restaurant downtown.

So there we are, smiling from ear to ear while watching the sunrise. It looks so painfully good.

The sudden flashes of us pop in my head every now and then.

You should see them.

They fill me with this feeling of blissful affection I can’t help but hold onto.

I always do.


Labyrinth of Love 

My lips were a thin line. She knew what that meant. Tears were welling in my eyes. I see you fighting it but you’re losing the battle as the first tear rolls down my cheek. I know love, you’re hurting. I am very hard to love. I know. I know everything.

“Come here.” She whispered, holding out her arms welcoming me to come into her embrace.

She held me, as I lay my head on her bosom. One arm around her head patting her hair, the other around her shoulder. My tears soaked her crisp white shirt and she held me and let me cry my pent up tears.

“It’s okay to cry” she said.

It really was. In moments like these where I see myself in completely vulnerable state, it doesn’t scare me but it makes me love you more. I am a human, I am allowed to cry. I don’t have to prove anyone anything.

She only says it sometimes. When it’s just us two and the perfect silence is worth being broken. And I trace road maps across the skin of her back, and I wonder. I wonder what I did to deserve all this. The affection, and the easy smiles, and the list of kid names we like tucked away in her desk drawers, singing at the top of our lungs. That feeling when you sing your favourite song? I wonder how many songs I sing lately!

And then her breath is heavy in my hair. I never fall asleep before her because I don’t know how to stop thinking. I wonder and I wonder and I wonder how I even thought I’d be better off my own. And she pulls me closer. Whispers my name like a promise. All the world stands still for just this moment. And I wonder how a person – one single, broken person can come along and make so much sense!