A Wronged Soul

A bruise is how the body remembers it has been wronged.

The hands that spread across
my neck and the handprints
that have stained me will soon
start to define me.

I will continuously wipe
sorrow off my face only
for my hands to be smeared
with blood.

I will roll my eyes
back once my head hits
the bed due to the
recollection that
lives in my head.

My stomach will start to disappear
and my body will
cave in
forming a bowl that would
collect the water, I refused
to drink.

However, there is nothing that
leaves you as thirsty as hate.
The more I drink, the
more I long for it.
The more I scream for it.

Darkness has overcome me.
It has become my second skin.
I claw at it furiously
only to have scars that could
be mistaken for tattoos.

It has come to the point that
the pain that spreads across my
soul has started to spread
across the body that holds it.

There is nothing more frightening
than a soul remembering
that it has been wronged.

At The Crossroads

‘Where are you going to go?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘How long are you going to take?’

‘I don’t know.’

The worry in Mother’s eyes was beginning to affect me. It was evident she did not appreciate my lack of answers but I had no answer that would ease her worry.

‘What do you know then?’

‘I know that I am going for a drive and that I shall come back when I am ready to.’

‘Please stay safe and keep in touch every hour.’

I nodded as a reply and walked out the front door. Mother was not one bit willing to let me go but she was aware that I needed a breath from everything.

I walked to the garage, took 3 bottles of fuel, a blanket, the stack of cash I had saved, some clean clothes and began my trip to nowhere. The large green fields slowly turned to large trees and the urban houses turned to large high rises. The familiar strawberry scent in the air was long gone and replaced with a strawberry ash mixed scent. The light blue sky was turning into a gloomy grey one, a great representation of my feelings.

I was not surprised that i had unknowingly driven myself to the city. All my life, I knew that I was meant for it. At night, I would stare at the ceiling pretending that it was the city and would hear it softly but surely calling out to me. Sometimes, I would stare really hard, reality easily faded away.

The only reason why I, such an independent, strong-headed, smart lady stayed in a place that did not go in sync with the rhythm of my heartbeat was because he had stolen my heart. He also happened to be the reason I was moving with no destination on a fast lane. Tom and I knew each other ever since we were in diapers. Our Mothers were best friends and nothing less was expected of us. We did everything together and shared everything. The flowers of our friendship soon blossomed to romance and we soon became the envy of all our friends. This later extended to the whole school. We were prom queen and king, we were voted best couple for all our years in high school and we were voted most expected to get married. I did not care for the fame, I was simply happy being with Tom.

After we graduated, he took me on a surprise road trip to the city. His destination was a mesmerising water-body which went two ways. He had stumbled upon it and knew that I would love such a unique place nicknamed the crossroads, and it became a symbol of our love.

A few days ago, the promise was broken, shattered into unrecognisable pieces when I found Tom cheating. It is funny how one can know someone their whole life yet not know them at all. When I found out, I did not shed a single tear, not even a single drop. I had simply returned the ring and left.

Now, I find myself back at the crossroads.

I would be lying if I said I was not hurt but I would also be lying if I said I was surprised. Life is everything but a fairytale and when everything was going so well, I knew somewhere along the line, there would be a problem. It just happened to be a much bigger problem than I ever imagined.

Gazing at the crossroads, I wished for a reset button but none came. My mid-length waves had begun dancing to the melody of the wind before I realised how cold it was. I watched the waves in the water-body hit against each other, creating a beautiful dance. The stars were out when I left the crossroads but immediately when I got into my car and began my drive, I knew it would be my last time here.

My life was going to change and this time I shall be the pilot.

Hunting Expedition

The dark heavy clouds followed me from Wall Street to, well, nowhere? The sky was my canvas, and painted on it was my mood. I had no plans, just a complicated map, a three-dollar Target compass and a 1960s car. I was tired of making plans, having plans and fulfilling plans. I was tired of being the person described in my job description. So, like your average half-dead, fully drained, dowdy woman, I embarked on an expedition.

Along the highway was a gas station filled with men of inflated egos. Their only prides were grunting vehicles. Their 30kg baggage made it hard for me to enter. The pistol-like stares they shot at me was enough evidence that I was a flower among thorns or better still, a woman in a man-only town. A 3kg of fuel had never felt lighter as I rushed towards my car.

The heavy silence throughout the journey was a constant reminder of how my social life had failed me. There were no buzzing, no twittering, not even a single ‘ring’. When I thought I had found my hero, it was a pop-up of my office schedule—a grim reminder of the life I was running away from. I was tempted to allow my phone a chance at sky-diving.

Once my stomach started grumbling, I realised there was something I could not run away from. Thus, I decided to try my luck at a diner for brunch. Upon entering, I was overwhelmed by a strong aroma. It was as if Vanilla and lemon had a baby. The attitude of the mini-dress that cat-walked towards me with a cup of complimentary coffee unfortunately, was a jarring contrast. Yet nothing was going to distract me from a well-deserved meal: the finger-licking, high-in- calories, honey-glazed waffle and the roasted, perfectly brewed, aromatic coffee took me to Mars and back. It was a miracle how much the taste of coffee could right the wrong of a waitress!

It no longer felt like an expedition to nowhere.

With the windows down as I continued the journey, I smelt the salt in the air before my eyes laid upon the water body. It made me speed with zealousness. Upon exiting the car, I was welcomed by passionate winds which played a melody my mid-length waves fell in sync with. I felt right at home with the sea softly calling out to me.

Rainbow fishes illuminated the vast blue sea and their synchronized movements were evident.

Painted on my canvas was now cerulean. I was on the hunt for the meaning of life and as I stood gazing into the horizon, with my feet sunk into the wet sand, fully embracing the warm kisses from the cool waves, I found it. I knew there and then what it meant to be alive, to be alright and to want to live.

I knew there and then my own unique hunting expedition had become my salvation.


Life can change in a split second
yet takes ages to be the life we

The blue sky has no more stars.
I have placed every single star in my pocket.

I am blinded by greed and thus need to feel.

I dream, I dream of feeling.
Feeling like a real human being.
Dreams are built on lies,
on false hope,
on freedom
but most importantly, they are built on pain.

Yet, dreams can only be fulfilled with desire.


Solitary Confiment

Stuck between four walls even for a day, people would have lost their minds.
Now imagine being locked for 22 months with only yourself and the tiny creatures who come by late at night to say hi.
As much as you would like to claim that you are sane, you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to hold a one-sided conversation with them.
Doing this period of time, you’ll learn a lot of things about yourself and your brain will start working to the best of its ability.
Now, look at the bright side,
You wouldn’t get judge at all
Maybe from the midnight creatures who think you are mental but you’ll never know
Would you?

A letter to your heart

This is probably the last time
I’ll get to write to you or anybody for that matter.

Unlike most people,
When they find out that they are going to die
They don’t lie in bed and wait for it to happen.

Well, I guess I’m different.
Always have been, you would know.
I don’t have anything I need to do before I die,
I have already accomplished my bucket list and
I most definitely don’t have any regrets
So why not?

You however young lad,
You haven’t lived till 90
There’s no reason for you to be depressed.

I have lots to tell you, really but not enough words to say everything.
That’s the problem, I don’t have the words to show you how much I love you.
To show you what a blissful life you have allowed me to live.
To show you the hardship that I’ve been able to overcome.
To show you how I don’t wish for more time but that you have the best time during your days.

This isn’t a letter for your brain.
It’s for your heart
It’s going to act as a remedy, you have to let it

There is nothing left for me to say.
A part of live is figuring it out oneself.


Monday Mornings

They start with a bus ride
Just like any other day
The freezing air from the AC hits your smooth baby skin

You wonder why you are here when you could be back home under your warm blanket sleeping

You put your earphones into your ears, the music awakens your muscles and nerves
You feel at peace – although you aren’t listening to anything classic
You look out the window, the bus moves slowly and you’re tapping your feet to the beat

Today is going to be a long day~