Her: will I write? (I love Her but I can’t have Her)

Early this year, I did pray to God
I said Lord, let me meet someone who’s genuine, sincere, trustworthy and charismatic
By mid-February, I remember the Lord answered my prayer
He gifted me with a She.
I was surprised but not too overwhelmed by this revelation
I didn’t know what to make of it
It’s the first time in 30 years
For the longest time, I believe I knew who I was unquestionably
Yes, I felt scared, cautious but there was peace in my midst too
A sense of diving into the unknown came over me
I was at a loss for words
There was excitement, thrill and happiness too
Something more of my emotional consolation

This She was nothing extraordinary in fact,
She was the literal embodiment of that prayer
With no fucks given
And maybe this sense of peace within me came from knowing that
It was Her and no other
It made me happier
To feel more secure, stable and deserving

My initial interaction with Her was nothing short of extraordinary this time
She came to me like that of an old mom and a friend
Angels do exist even in the form of a family or a friend
And I didn’t know what took over Her at that time
But she came to my seat overly concerned about me
Saying, “Please hide your phone because someone has seen you sneaking it in here.”
I looked up. Perplexed. With a question in mind.
“Damn, the nerve of this girl. Who are you my Mom?”
This thought went wild in my head but I couldn’t say it out loud
I was sweating. So nervous. Bashful.
I got caught and She just blew my cover!
That was one remarkable moment I’ll forever remember
That was the moment I started to recognize Her
And to make more justifications
I said, this was the girl from last year who I thought was non-existent
I say this because we never really had any noticeable interactions
I just knew her by name. Nothing else.
Until the wind blew to a different direction
There was a huge change
New setting, new characters, tables have turned
Like the effects of Typhoon Odette
Where everything had to go so new skin can grow
Truly a wonderful message
A story of death and rebirth

This message resonated with mine too
I’ve suffered from depression for so many years now
Something so unbelievable if you are just a by-stander or an on-looker
After all, I hide behind a masquerade of “I’m the happiest person in town.”
Or that I curl myself up behind my creativity and artistic inclinations
So nobody knows. No one’s ever going to know
This was the highest goal.
To exert so much effort in shrinking my own truth so I can
Be that same ,living person that the world color me to be
I hide behind the veil for all the wrong reasons
But it was the cheapest, most accessible commodity that I needed to have
In those moments of staggering, growing pain and helplessness
I hid myself for self-preservation

Of course, I believe I’ve got good karma too
Eventually I made more progress as the years went on
And I have adjusted myself to cope with the natural change
My blessings initiated April of last year and until today
My world continues to navigate its course positively
And I feel the happiest as its receiving end.
It was an out-pouring of blessings
I have the Lord to thank for His eternal love and faithfulness

But the question remains
I’ve fallen for Her.
But can I have Her?
Well, she was nice enough to care for me
Like I’ve said She existed because of my prayer
She was drawn to me precisely for this reason
And maybe there is a lesson that I needed to learn here
And it was a lesson on unconditional love and self-restraint
Remember, to let go so new skin can grow
I like Her with no apparent reason
Just the fact that I feel a gravitational pull towards her
So strong that it is hard to resist
Yet so light that it’s insatiable
I managed to create a safe space for us the friendly way
I didn’t know how else to go but in a friendly and respectful way, of course
She’s intrinsically motivated, highly-skilled and a fantastic individual
She was a force of earth to be reckoned with
I realize her redeeming qualities instantly and I set her apart from the rest
Like how one does between a goat and a sheep
She was a sheep but armed with fangs, punches, kicks and a great deal of humor
I mean, on the surface-level I got attracted by these terms
But the heart knows what it knows and it wants what it will never have
Still, she was a living natural beauty and a legend

I wish I won’t have to let her go
I wish I didn’t have to push her away
I wish to keep her by my side
I wish to be with her when trouble comes or happiness flies
I wish I can do what I want
I wish Love doesn’t come with a price
I wish I can be with her until that day comes when She decides to leave
For her own good, for her own ideals and constant growth
I wish to be that person that stays with her and sends her off even if goodbyes hurt
Love is unconditional
I should be ready to remove their leash when the right time comes
When it’s their turn to make their world a better place
Still Love hurts in silence; Love bleeds in openness
Love is so beautiful that it allows one to experience all
And still desires for more

I love Her with everything that this word can contain and release
I love Her daily
I love Her
I just love Her
It’s my pleasure to fall head over heels for Her
I love Her beyond words
I love Her with every efforts known to man
I love Her because I got Her as a gift from God
I love Her because she made a 360 degree turn of my life
I love Her in moments of joy and despair
I love Her for the way that she is

I love Her but I can’t have Her.

Your Healing

I understand.

You are free to explore your healing. Pack your things and be somewhere. Go wherever there’s life. Be together with your soul. Time or space doesn’t matter. It’s a gift. Carry everything with you. Walk simply; don’t run away. If it’s what you need even if it’s not what you want, take the chance. Fill your cup with joy, peace and love. Slowly. Slowly until that void in your heart is filled with some new stories, new friends, new likes, and the wonderful gift of loveliness.

Release yourself from any blockages. From people’s grip and tension. Even from your own. Walk simply; don’t rush.

Take your time to explore your healing. Then come back. Full of Glory.

I understand.

Love letters sent to space (1)

Dear Cosmos,

I still feel conflicted. But I don’t want to stay the same anymore. I want to change. The kind of change that even I can be proud of. I want to move forward even if I’m too scattered and too frightened to make the first step. I want to tell myself that I really can do this. I can move forward. Disappointment, excuses and fear one after one, I want to put them all to rest. I want to end this mental torture. I’m not sure how to get started and I might just be full on words, but this is what I want now. I want to accept myself. I want to accept what happened to me. I want to accept the fact that there are things out of my control and that no matter how much I want to prevent something horrible to happen, it still has to happen. I have to experience it. Maybe a wall is not just something I need to climb or break. Maybe I can also turn away and look for another route. Maybe I just did not see what’s written on the sign board or that I did not know that there was one hanging on top that says “turn around and go to the next stop.” Or maybe it tells me otherwise.(?) 

But I don’t want to get stuck anymore. And maybe this kind of opportunity is not something I can only achieve now. This might not be the right time to break this wall. So, I must gather more experiences. Get stronger. Maybe then, I can go back to this wall and pursue the things hidden behind it. I will make it. Because I am Me. 

One day just like today,  I will look back proudly. 

I can’t live in the past. And I know that in one’s heart, there are many knots we wish to straighten, break or keep hidden. But I can’t allow myself to stay puzzled and muddled like this. Not when I am yet to be the person I wish to be. 

I can’t hold on to the future either. It can change anytime and I can shape it however I want. But for something far and is yet to arrive, I can’t keep on waiting and expect that the bus will arrive on time, in the same platform with the same people. 

I still don’t know how my future would look like. I can imagine it. But I don’t want to force to shape it through unsteady grounds. 

What I have is now. Who I am and who I think I am at the moment. I have this precious time now; my youth. I can dream. I can pursue my dream. I can be a sparkling girl enough to dazzle all my fears away. I can be free because I choose to be free. I can be comfortable because I want to be comfortable. I can take anything this lifetime has for me and give it back. I can love it and just love it passionately. I can get hurt and I know I will be. But I can be happy too. I can learn and learn persistently. 

My life is a life that no one can live for me but only me. I can take charge. I will take the lead and take this wonderful promise with me. 

I want to believe in the kind of person I nurtured within me. Someone who’s loving. Someone who thinks she can protect the people she cares about. 

I am not a failure. I will never be a failure. No. I refuse to believe that I am a failure. It’s because I’ve gone this far believing with my own strength, continuously moving forward with the hopes and dreams of my people. 

There are no disappointments. Only more opportunities to new adventures. There will be more sharp scissors lying in wait to wound me. But I won’t waiver! Because I am brave in my own right. And I am truly blessed. I won’t falter! 

I will go. I will move forward. Consistently. Like how life should be. Like how I am supposed to be. I can do more and be more. I want to manifest things and be good at that. Yes. Move forward. Get started. Go on. Show yourself the life that is meant only for you!

From the heart to your heart,



There are so many things to love, so many to hate with so little time.

With so little time, there are so many things to love, so many to hate.

So many to hate. There are so many to love with so little time.


Your Dandelion


It’s old now. But inside, the words still scream your memories. Good ones. They are all flattering dandelion puffs- written full of grace, wishing they fly out and onto your shoulder. I will thrive until the last sunrise.

Dark night of the soul (1)

“I don’t want to get up. I want to sleep some more.” I don’t need to have dreams. I just want nothing.” Everything is just too burdensome. I just can’t find my heart within me for anything.”


Sometimes I ask myself if I have done everything I could for myself- the things that I like or the things that make me happy. I’d like to believe I did. I want to say that many times I have tried to save myself. Not to do self-harm or have thoughts about it.

I often find myself in long rapid heartbeats, long-ranged insomnia, a full-length self-narrative and in distressed ships. Always trying, wanting to reach my heart for something I can’t get my hands with- Seeking for my own emotions, wanting to have control over them, hoping that somewhere I will find all my impassioned and beautiful memories. But I couldn’t take hold of anything.  My heart is no less than an empty box of tissue. Like a box, beautifully painted floral on the outside but hallow and dark inside.

May be you’d ask me that “If I were in so much pain, why you never told us?” Why was it kept a secret? Why?”

Was communication really the issue? Have I not made it loud and clear enough?  (I’m curious myself.)

You see. I want to ask you this time. Who did you think I was? Who did you take me for? Why haven’t you known? And if you knew the answers to these questions, then, this was probably the reason why everything came to play. For something that is already grand does not require an overflowing spectacle lest you want it in a bad taste.

I’m so scared to die. And for the longest time, I’ve only finally decided to end my life now. It’s difficult to leave everyone I love and care for. You don’t need to forgive me. You don’t need to do anything for me. I just know. It’s been so hard to breathe and I have come to hate the little world that used to bring me warm breeze and sunny skies. I feel so lonely in the middle of it all. I don’t know why everything makes me feel so lonely and hurt.

It’s so hard to breathe life to live. I can’t breathe. My heart probably hates me now. Maybe in the afterlife, it will be different. (?)

Yes. The afterlife has a nice ring to me. A certain kind of curiosity tries to peek through me. Many have said that it’s hell, darkness, only pain and suffering. And that ending a life here on Earth is cowardice. It’s like escaping and expecting to be in another better or different place but no one actually knows or, has been.

Maybe to you, it’s cowardice. But somewhere along the lines, it could be bravery- a blind bravery. After all, ending one’s life is murder by default which is something only the few dare to do.

No. I do not condone this wrong doing. I’m just saying that there is one more option- for me. And perhaps, I’m bent on going after this treacherous mission now just so, I can keep my head above water in a world where I am drowning and, you are just there standing, one meter away just shouting at me, calling my name but not getting me a rope or stretching an arm. Is it because I am no one’s responsibility?

I called out while sinking deeper. “Damn, it’s a much rather complicated thing. And yet, others make it sound so easy that it left me livid with hopelessness.”


I was told, “You should manage your time. I know your context is hard but…you can’t be a defeatist.”

 I know that he was only speaking for my sake but after a while, I whispered into the air and thought to myself, “You’re speaking as if I wasn’t trying to manage my time; that I wasn’t doing my best to make it work. Or could it be that I wasn’t doing enough still?”

Sometimes it makes me feel as if, “You’re so far-off the ground; and into the sky flying, looking over these vulnerable people; mocking them while saying half-baked things.” It hurts. Because. I’ve been doing quite the contrary. In fact, for the most part of it, that’s what I’ve been trying to do. Just managing my time and yet, barely having enough. It’s always never enough. I’m not enough.”

Here. Look at me. Just trying to defend myself again to what seemed to be an attack against my own character.

 I’m so sorry that you had to spend another hour wasted for me. It’s my fault again.                            That’s why I said, Let me just end it. Or else, I would be asking myself to apologize as many times as these words which have pained me endlessly and I don’t even know why I’m agonizing a great deal. As for apologizing, I can do that. I’ve been doing this since. But my heart would just be too numb or unfeeling for your empathy.


Whenever you say or do something, you make it sound so easy and fun. It makes other people want to try and try even better.  It’s quite desirable. And I would agree with you in a lot of ways. People who are strong in mind are indispensable because they tend to know how to navigate their ships (intelligently) even on stormy nights. I’ve learned a lot just by watching you.

But, in the end, I can’t shake off feeling miserable and useless inside. You might say, I learn upon doing things and that it’s something positive which I should be happy about. But to me, more than feeling happy and thankful, I feel so miserable and exhausted for making myself someone else’s burden. It’s terrifying inside.  I can’t let others share my burden. I can’t do that. I refuse to let others suffer for me. For so many years I’ve tried so hard to do things on my own. Asking someone’s help is the last thing I’d want in this world. I made a lot of mistakes and wrong decisions. Others mocked me for it and laughed at me, calling me weak as though my feelings weren’t valid. But I held everything in thinking I can still go on. I can press on. But, it was so hard. I feel happy easily then constantly feeling awful I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be truly happy. At the end of the day, the last thing I can’t put down is the face I let everyone see. Not me. No matter what I do, I will never measure up. I can’t chase even further. I can’t help making an enemy of myself. I hate myself for being the way that I am.

I always ask myself.

“Can I really tell you about me?”

“Can I really share half of my burden with you?”

“Would you please help me?”

Everyone is starting to get sick in my family. Slowly, it seems everyone is being tested. Like a warning sent somewhere that if I don’t take action anytime soon, I’d lose them one by one like withered petals; falling off. And I was just there. Like an observer merely watching a movie in front of the TV. I can watch and react but not be in the movie’s eventual battle. Inside me, there’s just no sense of urgency. Other humanly emotions have not yet resurfaced. It’s like something within me has accepted everything—to die today or tomorrow just like the norm. What difference does it make?

I guess my purpose is to be this kind of a character; obedient to Fate.


Everyone talks about change; big and small. That all people in this world have the freedom to choose, will-power do come in handy in times like this. There’s something inside me that I can’t put my finger on. There is. I want to know what that is.

Whether I’m a flat stupid or a fake, I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Or, I might have just known it that I am both.

“I just want to die.” Isn’t this what I wanted in the first place? Well, getting sick over this virus will naturally serve its purpose. See, I told you. I’m still obedient to Fate. And it might just be out of spite.

Indeed. You can still tell me now that I am stupid and reckless, an immature brat and an unforgiving twat, yes, just like this. But today, I gave Rose steam inhalation. And I still wish her to get better. (Humans are strange. I am.)

Tonight as we—

I want you to open me tonight.

No rush.

I want to be triggered enough to light up.

Nothing can go wrong.

I’ll make sure to guard your back with my palms perfectly.


Let us be provocative in many ways

Tonight until the sheets burn

out of satisfaction.

Open me and then rush me until my cries are heard in the wind.

I want to glue your hips to mine. I’ll cross my legs around your legs.


I’ll make you sexy.

I’ll make you mad artistically.

I’ll break your point.


I can make you do wonderful stunts.

You will give it to me as I give it to you.






You will open me full of maturity.




The hands I thought I’ve held

We’ve been together for so many years. 


No one can say they’ve known you so well; eyes close.  The years spent together don’t guarantee you a full life. Those times may have just been as a roommate, an acquaintance, neighbors in the guise of friends or family. How fleeting time can be. You may be together and yet still feel lonely. We feel comforted by being around everyone and at the same time, feel so alone, confused by the numerous emotions all felt at once. 

I resent it.

People say, we all experience hardship and pain. You are not the only one. You are with everyone, you should be happy. We are just the same. 

Often, I wonder why others would say I’m too cold. Too closed off. Too untouchable, don’t they already know the one answer? 

If we are all the same paddling in the same boat, chasing the sunrise, why would any one be so entitled to make me feel what’s obvious? Why would any one who says they care would be greatly ignoring my feelings? 

Pain and hardships are immeasurable. So why would people keep saying they’ve understood how I felt when not even once they have tried to show they truly care.

We say what we don’t mean to mean what we want to say. 


We are only acting. Actors just making their entrance or just having their exits.



But we don’t really care. We don’t really know.



What do we know?                             What do we care?


Around it



But only sometimes,


I feel my heart crouched in deep slumber. 

And sometimes—

Rather than feeling______





(Really sometimes)


That season has come again.

And once again I am here in that same dwelling where I could see everything but my own.

Is it really the start of that season? It’s unbelievable. It’s happening again and I’m slowly caving in way way down…

I know this. So you can pull yourself up is what I told myself. 

Hurry. Like you’re chasing yourself away dearly hoping to feel differently today.

Damn, I’ve only realized how I could hear myself talking, breathing and doing similar things in different ways and still, end up in an unusually the same place.

I catch myself watching others and hearing things with my body that feels distant and unresponsive to the episodes that rattle and roll repeatedly in my head. 

2:39 am. High and wide awake. There’s just too much noise that I want to cancel out. 

Hey, I want to tell you where I am. This is how I feel. Just in case you haven’t noticed the sudden shift.

It’s here. It has come back. Do you know?





We all have things we covet in this life. Mine are the hands of a pianist, the eyes of a doctor and the soul of a poet|artist. 

shut the doors, no visitors allowed

shut the windows, cover them with thick curtains, no one should know someone’s breathing a life behind them

get isolated, keep quiet or It will come find you.


a love read

The trying times left me to some place isolated. Got quarantined; afraid that your image in my head will start a new contagion that may affect my whole being. I am in my head and no one knows I still think about you. Being caught by you in this state, put me in a rather emotional destitution. I see signs of you everywhere maybe because I still carry the same flame for you. But it’s a love that never got off the ground. And this precious world tells me to keep moving on as if it’s a sin to get stuck in an old memory. I’m afraid you don’t miss me. 

I’ve been catching up although my progress is slow and daunting. I wish I could move forward with you with great news. I can smile now that’s for sure. People are noticing it even. I guess the mental conflict had brought me some beautiful results too. But there’s no need to apologize. We don’t need to live in regrets. But if we see the past as treasure, we can continue to carry it on our backs. I wish that in this trying times, you have collected yourself and is in a better place now. I will forever watch you from a place I know. 

You consume my thoughts. I miss you regardless of how things look on the outside.   I want to see you again. Thank you for loving me. I’m watching you from the outside.


down that road

“No. Let us not go down that road.” 
A road where we can’t even hold hands…
Or sleep on a make shift bed when the night blankets the world around us
Let’s keep our hands clasp together
Keep it air-tight fresh like the morning dew
6 years passed, we let it flow but to narrow streams not oceans
No. Let us not remember the road
Where there was just you and materialism
Or me and sensitivity
Love, the reason I wanted to die-
was when dead fish resurfaced; floating away by the wharf on our wedding anniversary
They wash away the memories of our love story and replace them with pieces of fear and helplessness
Drawing the ocean tides fiercely, eating away the shoreline. Like us we drifted apart after devouring each other; afraid that one might overwhelm the other and disappear
The reason I wanted to die was when I remembered you weren’t there when the storm left my body naked
And I was exposed to the snakes that danced around the moon. Yes. There was beauty. But the fear has never left me even though the air was covered with live music and perpetual calmness. And yes, maybe I needed you to be with me.
We grew this big. Tall and smart. But we were each other’s chain, unable to move forward or grow together. Oh but love, let us not be in that road again where there were hands-slipping and hopes waning. A road where you told me, “Let go.”

Love, oh let us not pick on my past as we go to this road where the jasmine trees blossomed. Can I become the soil that filters nutrients for your roots serving you while looking up to the changing foliage?
Sunbeams, bikes folded on the corner, a woman resting on the beach front looking over the cliff, burnt stoves, abandoned house slippers, my heart can’t handle the spasms everywhere

I know..I know love, that it was time to change. That tomorrow will bring forth a bright new day but what if it brings forth days of rain with thunder, will my heart be able to hear what your soul wants to say?
It might be that the reason for the tears was being unsatisfied. Love! I want to be satisfied.

Human relationships are hard to tie together. I am not good at sewing beads or sequence putting or hiding the rough hems against the on-lookers. I saw your bracelet got undone and felt bad not fixing it

The reason why I thought I’d die love, I was alone when a boy told me I wasn’t ugly when the world molded me a certain way. I needed to learn your warmth but instead I got scolded or told off by a stranger

Love let’s not go down that road, last night I learned to bend my knees to pray for the way I lived my life among others but had to be filled with loneliness alone.

Love but I fell in love with a world where the road could lead to discovering pretzels and wheels turning, where people like you were born, and seagulls incessantly squawking.

The poetry of a condom

The love of a condom is never satisfied. Never mind the size it will hurt you only one time. My dear, I wonder if poetry will bleed like how it enters the depths of a woman’s womb before it ripens or the much stiffer path of a man’s canal before the hand of a criminal. How happy are those who feel and yet how eerie it is for those who cannot heal. though you would never understand what it is like inside the arms that are never satisfied.

So, let me explain this in four points.





What Satan stole from me

Satan comes as a thief to steal and then leave. He does not stay for long in your house but he always makes sure that when he visits he’ll take away something or someone precious  from you and in your life. You wouldn’t even notice any of his traces or noise and at first glance you would only think that nothing was lost because he will take it in small doses and then in large doses until your house collapses for losing its foundation. You’ll only know what was lost or broken once you start to feel that something or someone is missing or has left in your life.


So anyone who does not lock his windows or doors is foolish as open windows or doors invite Satan to come and break into your house.


But a wise person and a child of God understands where to take this battle and who to ask for help. A wise person who understands and accepts Jesus as his/her personal saviour prevents Satan from stealing from you. A wise man claims that the blood of Jesus saves and that it hinders Satan from destroying you and your life.


Satan has stolen my love

He has stolen my self-love

He has stolen my patience

He has stolen my kindness

He has stolen my memories

He has stolen my dreams

He has stolen my body

He has stolen my passion

He has stolen my protection

He has stolen my security

He has stolen my innocence

He has stolen my knowledge

He has stolen my blessing

He has stolen my ears, my eyes, my mouth, my heart and my mind

He has stolen my sleep and my rest

He has stolen my health

He has stolen my peace

He has stolen my life and


Replaced it with



Pain, anxiety, depression, fatigue,  restlessness, insecurity, false hopes, accursed things, anger,  perversion, illness, brokenness, dissatisfaction, irritability,  rudeness, unhappiness, conflict, ingratitude, curses and sin.


So remember to lock your  windows and doors. Reinforce them with security cameras and alarms by calling unto Jesus, your savior. Jesus died for your sins. Jesus loves you as much as He loves me. Jesus restores everything and makes it all brand new. Have faith and listen to God’s word. Invite Jesus into your house and into your life. Through the blood of Jesus, you are saved and healed.






Spoken word poetry: Footsteps

Image result for dark and heavy footsteps

I like the sound of MY footsteps. They are loud and heavy. As if they know where they are going and what they are about to do. I hear many other different footsteps. They ring into my ears like cars or coasters sometimes they are fast but mostly heavy. I rarely hear footsteps like a cat with winged legs , silent as the dead of the night but with the grace of sheer anticipation. Who could this be? Or what you might be? And I stood their behind the door waiting to see who or what I’ll see as it opens. But it doesn’t open nor does it make a noise as if someone has checked the other side in.


I let out a sigh. Today may not be the day.


May 22, 2014 We argued through text. A habit that we know is quite effective because it does not sound so loud in the ears…I can just flip my phone, turn it off, leave it and wait until you stop firing me with your words that are as sharp as an army knife and as vicious as your jealous eyes. I could only imagine you bringing out that green-eyed monster compressed deep down into your system it didn’t manifest itself.

Two days later, I went home dilly-dallying, scared of what I might see behind the door. I walked fast then slow, slow then fast attempting to stop but not really. Will this be my fault again? I remember that old lock fastened in that wooden door. Anyone could try to break in but the landlord told me how it’s been 10 years and no one has accidentally destroyed or run into it despite having a lousy foundation. Despite being old with loose screws. I walked with faith in my heart and prayers that could run a marathon on a Sunday night. I said, Dear God, If I were to be buried today, please let it be swift and easy. But if I were to stay alive, please let me see what ‘tomorrow’ looks like after braving the day’s storm.

I stood in front of the door holding that knob like a kid who has never seen what a bicycle looks like and yet so anxious to hop and ride it down town WITHOUT training wheels. Imagine the thrill of falling and getting wounded but not really until you fell and got yourself hurt.

In that moment, I lost 99 percent of my oxygen. I couldn’t hear the sound of my breath. I couldn’t feel whatever I was touching even though I knew that it was just A DOOR KNOB. My fingers curled and fastened themselves around it like ivy’s, like dinosaur’s teeth.

I opened the door. And I felt the burst of air on my face suddenly . I mean I was expecting to see an angry and frustrated figure but I was only greeted by the coldest air stuck in there only time knows when. And even though I know that the longest word in the English dictionary was pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, I was was still left speechless!


You left the cabinets empty, the drawers messy. I didn’t see or hear your footsteps. But I could imagine how huge your steps were around the house or how you hurriedly packed your luggage to leave or how fast you grabbed that door knob without looking back similarly, you left me with nothing but my own lungs breathing the smell of an old house, emptied. Torn. Lifeless.



And then, everything changed like the foliage in Autumn in the UK. They were the most beautiful. I saw them in my dreams and in books how these colors interplay in autumn. Turning leaves into orange, red, yellow, brown. And the cold air in September seemed to have enhanced that experience.  I was blown away! I fell in love with Autumn. If only they were not imagined wishes!

You see your imaginations and wishes sometimes don’t go well together. They are like your head and your heart. They are kept in one body but they work differently. The truth is, while I was looking up to those beautiful leaves swaying, I felt the warmth in my bosom. But after some time of looking up, your neck would start to feel heavy as if something beneath you was dragging or pulling your head down. And you begin to realize once you see how many leaves have fallen, being ripped, stomped and carried away by the afternoon wind, all of my hearts valves bled. And for the first time I felt scared. For the first time I understood ‘pain’. The kind of pain that I never even knew existed until I imagined an Autumn trip in Europe.

Moral lesson of the story: DON’T IMAGINE THINGS! (laughs)


My reality is even clearer to me now. I was left to rot on my own.


Mid 2016, even though my world has crumbled and my hopes were fed into shreds, there was nothing I could have done. But I’ve got kids. I have a girl who was two years old and an infant. I still have to care for them. So I had to throw my pain away, hide it in another dimension like Alice in wonderland who was being warped in a new territory. The only difference is she’d wake up to an exciting adventure with her friends around and mine, got fed into a black hole. After all, I never really learned to turn pain into bliss.


I worked and started to hear more footsteps. New and different footsteps. This time, they were light and soft. I can see people passing by the aisle. I can see warm smiles and hear laughter coming from the North and South, East and West and they all come into my ears like a gushing monsoon. Noisy, unstable but  just the way I like it. And I thanked God I have survived.


I earned a little of my freedom in the most painful way and I learned to climb the steep road ahead the hard way.




I went back home to live with my parents. And I would have to ‘thank’ them for taking me in and my children as a ‘freeloader.’ Everything went by as normal. I changed my wardrobe. I bought a new suitcase, bought my own make up, I wore heels and stilettos and a fiery red lipstick. I saw friends and hang out. I learned to go home late at night. I taught myself to be WONDER WOMAN with a red cape and a golden crown helping my own little JACK-self to climb the beanstalk. And YES, I have always felt the need to do all this. And I wasn’t telling anybody because inside my heart a voice was desperately screaming “DON’T GO PUBLIC!”



Tell me, if I hadn’t told some of you of my story, would you even notice that I was over my boiling point? Would you say that I was happy looking so damn sexy with my flimsy and over the top new clothes bouncing like a girl who got kissed by her crush  in 5th grade?





But I won’t blame you. I blame no one but my dear self.


You see, I am no superhero. In fact, I am a hopeless FAILURE. I felt so damn miserable inside while trying to carry myself the ‘normal way!’ I felt so pathetic to always try to wear clothes that didn’t fit me or make up that were never my taste. I felt exhausted to think how NOT to act the awkward way fearing that someone would eventually notice the noise I made and check WHO or WHAT was behind my loud and heavy FOOTSTEPS .












Spoken word poetry: I want you to call me HONEY

Look, I’m not sure if you’ve heard this word once, twice or a million times but I sure think this isn’t so much of a struggle for an engineer like you who knows more of the complicated ins and outs of a turret cannon with a built in Hiroshima bomb that could wipe out the entire universe when you take a breath.
You see this isn’t a piece from that jigsaw puzzle you always played with when you were out with friends busting your exes at an Irish pub or the lego bricks you’d patiently assemble and disassemble whenever you feel like breaking someone’s heart.
Honey. Call me honey. I want you to call me honey NOT bunny or Lenny or Benny but Honey.
For Christ’s sake! Why is it so difficult to get the words to come out of your lips? Why do I have to drag them out of you like I’m dragging a piece of my neighbors’ underwear? And why does it feel so heavy in my breast whenever I see that strong sense of disinterest and ignorance in your face? Am I too undesirable to you? Am I so full of indignation that you feel like to indignate on my face like it’s some shit you needed to rub off your ass?

Is it something that I do that keeps you from closing the door to the secret spaces in your heart? Is it something that I say that moves you from this house to that house. From point A to point B,C,D and to infinity? Is it something that I give that turns you cold?
Perhaps, I am too undesirable that it’s hard for you to swallow, so difficult for your heart to keep throbbing. I feel like using a scalpel to slit your neck vertically and remove your Adams apple because then I can say that I have partaken in your pain as much as the poison that killed the snow white in me.
I feel so anxious that I wanted to put a stethoscope in your heart to feel that once warm and excited sound resonating into my ears, and into my blood stream.

You see I was ready to take my first big leap at love. Honey, I was more than ready to assume that you would still like me even after you’ve left me. And that you’d come back to me like nothing’s happened and that you’d knock out that door screaming I miiiiiiiiiiiiisssss you, Honey!
Oh but none of those is ever going to happen. None of my worries will ever be calmed. And none of my hopes or my dreams will come true because none or nothing in you loves me more than I love you.

I still remember the day when I upset you for something only you know. You threw a tantrum like a child with aspergers and turret syndrome combined. You didn’t want to listen to me or to my words. No explanations could ever get through you or how you have made up your mind to something you believed to be true. You were so angry I could die! I was so scared I wished that the skies would flip and hell be our ceiling. You were throwing flames of spiced up words of distrust and disrespect God knows I never claimed or spoke about them in my prayers.

You hurt me, you know. And far too many times at that. And yet, I still keep you like how I kept all those pain you gave me. I still let you knock on my door like you always do as if I am such a woman of ill repute who’s always at your mercy, always buying what you are selling and always catching what you are throwing away, always having tears as reserve even when you have never even shed a tear for me.
Sometimes, I seem to forget my own identity and I feel like I’m one of the soldiers fighting in the battle field. The only difference is that I never get to hold my own weapon and I just let the bullets rejoice upon hitting every parts of my body. I let you hit me with your painful whips.

And maybe even after going through all that, you’d never wonder how I withstood all the hot beatings despite my falling and spilling blood in my sleep.

Well as stubborn as I might seem, or I may just have a relapse in judgement when I stood behind the door with all the clothes you threw, the glasses broken and left over food littered on the floor like some painting done by a madman or some bartender frantically mixing cocktails for his mistress,


I still hoped for this impossible to become possible that one day, when you have calmed down and freed your mind from anger, when you have learnt to see me as someone precious even without the help of wild flowers and rainbows

I still hoped that you’d call me “HONEY.”

I knew what I’ve lost then. I knew what I have traded then.
I lost myself.
I traded my life.


When you thought you found the meaning of life, Life changed it

When you thought it was the end, it never really ended. And when you hoped for it to die, it didn’t.

Working so hard sincerely only to find out how unreliable you are still about the people and things you hold dear. ..

How much experience does one need to gain to be reliable? How much does each responsibility cost for someone to understand its value? What suffering is there to teach you that love does not equal hate? How much growth does one need to be able to say, ‘I know and I understand however suffering alone is unnecessary?’.

The person that you are now and the person that you were in the past seemed unchanged. While change may have done a little or big and utmost, the best for you in some aspect of your life, but none of these changes had taught you that striving for discord instead of peace and wealth instead of cooperation were not the least thing you could do to people you so hate.

With hate, you’d live and not die and perhaps foster the dream you desired. But the death of your soul, I wonder if you were ever unaware.(?)

Train -ride- ?

Where do I go?
What do I need to do?
Who do I meet?

If I go by train and stop at every station, sure I won’t miss the beauty around me.

But if I did, then, won’t I be late to my real destination, too?

If desiring something the most, and persevere mean that the journey would be more meaningful then, am I supposed to find the outcome dissatisfactory if it turned out any way less different?

They said that it would only take 8 minutes for people on Earth to notice that the sun had died down.

I wonder if it would also only take the same minutes for people to notice that the sun had already risen. After all, the sun is the sun. It will shine sooner or later.

As for the darkness in between, an illusion created by its absence then, am I supposed to believe that it would take forever for someone to even realize that all these won’t matter as long as you live your existence?

If such existence belongs in and around that train ride, then why do we still worry about where that train stops for its last trip?

Could it be that it would still be lonely out there?

reply#4 Little Flowers

black hummingbird flying near flower

Photo by kendall hoopes on Pexels.com


The day my heart peeked out of the window

I learned to see the beauty of the night’s view

I get the feeling that I want to end this day with your shadow 

If I were to be honest, I would like to go home on my own

It’s a day when my self-esteem really hits rock bottom

I can’t see everyone like this

so please take care

I’m going home

As I slowly walk

I never knew that a sidewalk could be filled with beautiful lamps too

They shine so bright wherever they might be

And the tears truly won’t stop dampening this beautiful view

It makes me tremble 

I wasn’t always this weak

Do you know my feelings?

As today passes by whenever that might be

the little flowers are now pressed on to the sidewalk

when the wind rattled the trees branches

the cold wind that knows what you’re going through

but still helps you anyway

Praying that I am not hurting as much as the pressed flowers on the pavement

When the rain slams on every window

waking up the night with her nuisance

All the painful memories will be heard and watched once again

and those little flowers will fall more of them

You came out of the taxi and rushed to touch me on my back

Wherever we might be I cried with you that night

And told me you’ll erase all my painful memories whatever they might be

I could care less about what people are going to see or if they have something to say

but I knew your working shirt was fully drenched with my sweat and tears

This unfortunate and poor me

What is there to do?

I can wash your T-shirt and make it look brand new

It would smell new flowers too.

More than anything today, I feel that I have to be grateful and in pain

as I understand what’s attacking me on that day inside of me

I ran off and told you to take care

as I followed the shadow that sees me

I grew to love this way 

holding your hand whenever that might be

and cry trembling out of fear and fatigue


These little flowers are falling endlessly

The sidewalk that we are now walking on are filled with little flowers without even knowing that we have changed

Glowing and shining with our bright smiles

Have I really lived on just like this?

And thought I was holding your hand?

wanting to do whatever, however I can

I’ve learned that I can be loved like this

If by chance, I’ll learn to glow like the lamps and the stars

I’ll shine brightly for you even on evenings of freaking mistakes and troubled hearts too when sad nights and weekend offs are drenched with warm tears 

As I watch the first fall of these little flowers this year right now

In this moment that we share together

I want to give you my all

You’ll know more of my heart and won’t be counting days such as today in your head

Look at me, don’t cry, I’ll stay by your side

With you wherever there are little flowers and shining lights might still be








Reply # 3: I’m sorry

You and I, inside a bowl of memory
Memories filled with moments of sweetness and warmth
The two of us
Reminiscing those feelings again
We laugh, we cry
Together, we did everything

Were you left with the same warmth and longing, too?
Or perhaps, was I someone different in your view?
Would you please tell me?
I want to ask you, I want to know
If I were the only one perceiving things positively
What memories were you left with?

It feels like I’m always alone
Talking to myself alone, I’m talking to myself on my own
Always having my own thoughts
Telling stories that I wish you know
Feelings of defeat and shame
Was I this indifferent all along?
When I thought of you
When I walked this road with you
When I was inside my head, you looked profoundly happy
A story of delusion, a piece of obsession

I was awfully bad
I was selfish to the very end
Did you struggle more?
Because of me, this happy memory becomes resentment
When I look at you, I’m sadder than ever
Until the end

You left me
Now I’m pursuing this memory
Memories of you forgetting me without a hint of doubt
Like this, you and I, collapsed
This story of our irreconcilable differences
When I look back, can I take back
All the good memories we cherish?

I’m sorry, Sorry, so sorry that I am sorry
I’ll be fine now that I am sorry
I’m sorry

Reply # 2: Selene to Endymion (the distance between us)



After awhile, your sleeping figure has caught my eyes. I, the goddess of the moon personified, have my gaze set upon you

I smiled to myself so I could endure not reaching for your face


Standing at the edge of your life, dearest, If only I have known, I would have thrown everything away to be by your side


In the darkness of the night, though you never see my stride or hear my cries, you shall have my wings so you too can fly. To be closer to you, it seems, this heart desires to know the stories of your life above the sky


Why are you making that face? Here I am. Flying over you with my winged-chariot.


The tides change and the strength of the waves are becoming different, do you perhaps cause them to stir and shake? – Would you call my curiosity greed?


I was with you as with the starry skies every night. Since when did you and I become this close? Can I move even more closer? You see,the heavenly footpath I’m tredging is distancing me further away from you.



In the darkness of the night, though you never see my stride or hear my cries, you shall have my wings so you too can fly. To be closer to you, it seems, this heart brightly desires the path below the sky


Why are you making that face? Here I am. Flying over you with my winged-chariot.


For a Goddess to act out of foolishness over a mortal who’ve chosen to have an everlasting sleep—


It seems you are more than special as I can’t flip this virtuous heart around.


I hover over you, hover over your ears to whisper you my name, Selene. But just like the wind words won’t reach, love can only pass us by.


What Special is there for you and me?



In the darkness of the night, though you never see my stride or hear my cries, you shall have my wings so you too can fly. To be closer to you, it seems, this heart’s full of fluttering desires how to just fall down from the sky


Why are you making that face? Here I am. Flying over you with my winged-chariot.


Hovering over you, whispering to you til I can be with you.




Reply# 1 At the end of your day

The day has been long

You’ve been too exhausted by now

Welcome home

You’ve worked hard


Come to my bed, have some rest

Wallow in the warmth of my palm as I go through each of your tensed muscle

Get yourself a tender hug

Before you close the day


The world outside is different

You became the person the world expected you to be

But at home, we can be honest

And aim to put down our mask, one by one by one


I’m sure at the end of a tiring day

Your bed,  your pillow, your blanket will be freshly made by me

Lay down your worries and let go of being fantastic

For today, you are just you and I am just me

Let us be together


When I turn off the lamp, be sure not to think of the weather outside

You have lived a different world with a different frame of time

The day as the night, the night as the day

Let’s make no mistake

As we shrink deep into a loving embrace

Your breath will sync mine

To be in each other’s comforting smile


Like the scent of lavender and rose oil

That gather around this room

I want to be with you

At the end of your day, pained by worries and awkward mistakes

I, your Queen, am waiting for you

In this room filled with lavender and rose oil

We gather ourselves as we recharge our strength


Come to my bed, have some rest

Wallow in the warmth of my palm as I go through each of your tensed muscle

Get yourself a tender hug

Before you close the day


My love, your tears are precious, your laughters are gold

I’ll be sure to catch them, I’ll be sure to keep them

Cry all you want, laugh all you want

I’ll take your innocence, I’ll save them all

Till eternity, I’ll hold your shine as I do to my heart

That loves the you who shines so bright and weep like a child

Til we get used seeing each other like this


Just like this, at the end of a weary day,


My love, you are my prize,

You end the job well done

Come to my bed and rest for a little while.






a talk alone




What’s difficult is being honest with oneself
In the years to come, I hope to have an honest experience with myself when I would not worry about getting others hurt because of me.
Where does it all come from?
Perhaps I am a person who’s bad at enjoying her youth since I worry too much about making others feel left out or cry.
My life is busy looking after these things that others find menial.
Do my scars, bruises and memories reflect on these too?
I guess you could say that.
Things that make me sad and out of sorts are the same things that make me sharp and excited. Would it make me happy, too?
Well, if you put it that way. Yes.
When people say “You’re a lot better than me. Because you are good at this or that then, for sure you can____.’ I know it’s easy for you.”
These words can sometimes be filled or can merely be gradient to me. I am happy because I can feel that sense of good affirmation about myself from the point of view of others. But it makes me sad at the same time knowing that these words come from another person’s inferiority and pain.
How hard it must be for them although I am only speaking for the minority and feeling from the people who matter to me.
For them to deliver such words, how hard it must be not to paint their anxiety and pain.
When they are like this, it’s hard to reach that point of honest concession as to how we both truly feel towards each other.
However, I really love to hear these words “ I’m on your side.” “I’m listening.” “Let’s try it again.” These words reflect home for me even though I know that other people feel differently about these things.
I feel like I’m being honest to myself and I can trust others sympathetic words towards me as well. Since humans are always allowed to grow, others tend to put these things to silence, forgetting and letting it go as in a waste water.
Don’t I sound even more worried?
There’s tightness I feel inside my breast, it’s heavy but I can’t seem to put it down.
Perhaps people can fathom its depth but as to what degree this cold, dark and heavy feeling is affecting me, no one knows.
I must have explained myself all too many times, hints would have been too obvious by now, but I guess, humans have it easy dismissing someone’s words of confession as something little or easy to understand. Thus, help doesn’t come at all. In the end, the effort to succeed fails and no longer can it be overridden.

Do I want it? Do I enjoy it? Not the least bit, my friend.

Letting go of one’s hand is not the most painful. Not believing in someone isn’t either. It’s when we are together for so long but you haven’t noticed the slightest signs I’ve given you. It’s when you shut me in before I could even spread my sheets. It’s when you’re comfortable even though I feel miserable, then, you ask ”What’s wrong?” but turns your back before I could even lift a finger.”

And I always wonder while looking at your back and fully spread shoulders, how far have we come to turn this way as humans?

Would you say I looked fine yesterday? Would you say I was happy writing words in my notebook that day? Would you say I thought we were o.k? Would you say I wish I knew this would happen? Would you say I can’t forgive myself for being so untrustworthy? Would you say you weren’t at fault because I never told you or showed you?

What’s the point of all the fuss now?

Even you have already given up on the thought of doing something. Let’s be honest.
But it’s never your fault. It’s all because of me. It’s because I should be when I should have been.

But what can be changed now?
If only I cease to exist.

Everything would still be normal. Memories would still come out clean and intact as if hearing a tiny voice from afar thinking it was just the wind blowing gently. Not someone or any one.


Is it so flashy? To die because it’s better that way? Is it so great?

I wish I could die to know the answer then come back unscathed to tell you of my amazing experience.
Would that be fair enough?

Rainy Blue

Old songs are now flowing in this town

The day when tears began to meet the soil

Like a leaking glass

All the painful fights fought alone 

Although hard and I almost gave up

I saw a sunny day against this rainy blue that was tearing my world apart

Flowers grow through my tears that seep 

Even though I wish through time my valuable life

be spared  from pain or despair

The night I walked alone suddenly rain fell

My wet body made of glass 

dangling loosely against the cold wind

Rainy blue kept floating in and I’m being chased

by my undying dreams of the you who made the skies rain

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue, oh

If it weren’t for your love

and the only affection that surrounded me

My heart, the tears

where they fell and seeped

flowers bloom no way near those rainy blues

My troubled heart is walking through an abandoned telephone booth

I lifted my finger for your number

Then I only took a pause

Moments that pass, I hope to leave them all in the past

is what I wanted to say

But tonight is no way sunny

as the rain continued to bang my head

I couldn’t wake up from 

Oh, this rainy blue

My heart, the tears are welling up

Flowers don’t bloom anymore

all our beautiful memories are seeping through the soil

Even though I wish through time my valuable life

be spared  from pain or despair

The night I walked alone suddenly rain fell

My wet body made of glass 

dangling loosely against the cold wind

Rainy blue keep floating in and I’m being chased

by my undying dreams of the you who made the skies rain

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue, oh It’s a rainy blue of the you who made the skies rain…

How can our hearts be broken even though no one has left us?

The vase is broken and the water’s been spilled

The day is slowly disappearing like a fading dot

Tomorrow doesn’t seem to run fast

I hear the sound of the clock no more

schedules are postponed

plans have been moved; people don’t seem to exist

The pain doesn’t subside

Bills are piling up and emotions are still in awry

The vein of sorrow won’t stop grief and despair from breaking happy hormones

swimming in a tub of unconfrontable pain, I’m into this as a fool who can’t stop her heart from splattering 

‘Sorry’ won’t even fit anywhere I place it

Acknowledging ones pain doesn’t even count and in no way near a medicament

Looking at changes where change doesn’t happen

I’m being pushed to the side.

Migraines won’t even flee 

Ears that keep ringing while the stomach’s been unjustly upset 

If pain is an object, I wish to scratch it, peel it, throw it away and kill it—

But the more and more and more I plead for it to go away

I keep getting the same hopelessness

Being cornered and body slammed, would it stop?

When all I want is to grab your hand.

Handrailings aren’t even available for support 

I’m counting the times when I feel my body is not my body

spending shorter days and longer nights

rolling over the ocean, changing sunsets and missing out my heart so much.

Like this,

How can our hearts be broken even though no one has left us?



Evening Primrose


Image result for evening primrose at night


The streets opened at night 

diffused notable colors wrapped the slightly cold evening

walking alone turned everything into sepia

memories of the past that no longer tied me

My heart ached for you

My heart ached for the inevitable

My heart ached for the scent that was breaking apart the strongholds of my hands

My heart ached so much that I only saw sepia

The window that I normally didn’t open 

I opened it tonight without thinking

I asked if I were sad but words won’t come out now that the alley outside reminds me of a past memory

Memories I’ll soon forget because I lost you.

What is wrong?

Crying like someone who just lost her mind

Can we stop now?

Why can’t you think about happy thoughts?

Is it so hard to remember just happy memories?

When I bare myself 

When the night looks at me openly

I wonder why I can’t remember memories of happiness

When you are happy it’s easier to feel lonely

When you are down it’s hard to have any other light feelings

Like water, it wraps around you without leaving any room for others

Why is that?

When I have just learned that physical sensations don’t mean anything unless you build a story around it

Here I thought I could take full responsibility for everything

But I’m doing it all wrong, I’ve been told.

Doctor, it must be easy to be like you when you put it that way.

Looking at your calm expression as you write the prescriptions

I guess increasing the dosage makes it all better?

I guess I am just a patient, indeed.

When what you write determines the next path I’ll take

Evening primrose in this blue night

To accompany me in this solitude

The flower that only blooms in the dark 

Too bad they won’t have to see how beautiful you are when you put out your face out there

When your petals stretched out like arms that love the world even though you are all alone at night

Because they don’t know, your memories are erased by morning.

Because they don’t know.

When you hide your face behind the cold wind 

Dancing alone while the rest are dreaming straight till morning

You are there but none of them has followed you sway

traces of your tears when the mist poured you her blessings

Will all be dried up by morning

No one will see you close up

No one will see you bloom openly

Yet you love the world so passionately that while scattering your scent at night 

that while your petals brightly shine

Willingly you offer yourself

Even though the landscape don’t recognize you

Even though the morning won’t remember your scent or the tears that your petals cried.







I am.

Not a popular one but a star.

To whom?

“It depends.” As ambiguous as that.

Whether there are people or pets waiting for me somewhere or not is rather insignificant.

Because loneliness can kick in at random. Undoubtedly, it can blur the surroundings.

The blurring doesn’t even mean blindness.

Quite the contrary, to me, it means clarity.

The clearness of the separation within and among the people around you, the loss of passionate connections and the feeling of sour boredom become absolute.

And yet that’s far from being lonely.


I wonder what this is to others. Even more so to myself since people aren’t curious about my ‘’loneliness.’’

who cares.

What a strange feeling.

Just how weird people are…

I, too, am weird having these strange feelings.

It’s heavy

It’s engulfing

It’s nostalgic

It’s tragic

It’s weary

It’s sad

It’s tasteless

It’s pathetic

It’s drastic

It’s painful

It’s endless

Always the worst kind.

A pin-like pain somewhere in my body that grows, weighs and metastasizes but in stealth mode.

a growing body with growing pains.

It is what it is. “Loneliness.” Just as it is lovely. It’s a crucifixion.

It’s the succession of all these words and emotions within words, words summoning deep intrusive feelings that run with borders. And sometimes, wild like a drunken master.

But the end does not really change the beginning. No, It does not even stop any anticipated ending.

Of course, there are also moments of happiness around it.


Like missing some key points in a questionnaire or,

a riddle that takes long hours to guess

a friend who never notices

a family away for good even when they are right under your nose.

Yet, there still remains the question “What does it mean?”

With eyes gazing somewhere else.

And smiles kept to oneself.

Sighs that are plowed from deep within.

And bodies dread just like any abnormal ending.

Jet black feelings of wanting to be that star that lives in your eyes and the air that spurts out of your divine lips even though, they spread like ammonia. Even though they burn like briquette. Even though they delight like a fragrant poison.


I am neither too close nor too far from it.

Neither too warm or too cold from the gushing sound it makes behind my earlobes when dawn starts to tear me apart as I get off from work and right before I lay in my bed.

Now, it’s getting more comfortable. The unfamiliar becomes natural. How there’s no way to know what lies beyond as we only see what’s suitable.

For a moment, I was taken aback by such loneliness that would now require a cool presence. From the formless image to the now awkward being that is gradually taking its form while carrying the memories that were once locked away inside the core of a wilted flower.


The likes of a new day that peels off my unwanted skin after soaking wet from the moonlight’s over-spilt charm.

a certain kind of presence with a certain kind of romance. 

Someone who’d be taller than his neck but shorter than the back of his palm. Someone gentler, someone who never lacks sincerity. Someone who is just like the Spring that readily sweeps off Winter to run a few tricks and make flowers blossom. Someone shrewd. Someone who looks beyond the window but sees through the little gestures and the actions that may resort to hatred when left unseen. Someone who does not spread words for any free breakfast or for a tasty appetizer. Someone who doesn’t close tightly like a  rare music box. Someone who opens up stories about his painful childhood. Someone too authentic to be ignored. 

‘Damn romantic.’ 

The world is crazy. But at least he owns a heart that can recognize a ballad.

Perhaps such a formless being will acknowledge the pain that cuts walls… perhaps, this loneliness wouldn’t fall into deaf ears.

Perhaps, he can notice my struggles first as if a brilliant star in a dark-filled realm. Perhaps, he can watch me closely to notice the red signs that were left undelivered by the hands, eyes, and lips.

A star with her comfortable loneliness can be quite noticeable through her awkward gait.

Oh but do you even know?

The spirit who stole from You

See how people made you their idol?
See how they have prepared for your shine?
See how they fantasized for your smile?
How the world move as you move and shake their ground?
See what an idol you have become.

I think I quite understood your guilt.
How as an idol you’d painfully cringe over every loose voices
How you have chosen to leave and not to live.
How that creature of darkness made you his marionette
To your death you never parted.

Your breath is in my breath
Your sigh is in my sigh
Your soul without a soul
Your god, you made him your Idol.

Your guilt shown in your shadow
As you walk around searching for lost tears
You wandered but missed out on the evil that stalked your feet
So everywhere you look you see your shine
The same shine that disillusioned the soul

That God has birthed in your body.

See how you saved yourself?
See how you freed yourself?
See how you left yourself?
How you have betrayed the spirit when you unchained yourself?

That was your guilt.

Now, you’ll continue walking the beaches of illusions, tirelessly.
Like a curse in the afterlife.
The mirror has been broken, you’ll see for yourself the truth
But never with the Spirit who touched your soul nor the Saints on Earth
But that to the One who crawled under your feet.

The One you could never defeat.

The Spirit of Idolatry,

The Demon of Depression.

Reflection: Growing flowers on a huge wall

do jong hwan


Yes. Whenever I face a difficult wall, it becomes too stifling for me. I would turn my back and just give up on even trying to cross it. Let alone overcome it. Because I fear of trying and then making a mistake. Because I fear that I see nothing but mistakes after even trying so hard to overcome such a wall. And because I fear there’s nothing waiting for me on the other side of the wall. It would have been a huge shock all my life. All these have already been decided in my mind. And my heart automatically accepts it like usual.

I guess even cowards have their reasons too. Be it an excuse or just a simple ‘I don’t know because I don’t want to know.’ What I mean is, be it stupidity, stubbornness or ignorance for as long as it serves me well at the moment, that would have been fine. I would just accept this as a better excuse. And I can glide through my life. Easily.

On the other hand, while going on an easy but uninteresting life I feel that I have missed out on the important things.  And because it took me so many years to realize this, it seems already too late to change or do something about it. 


If I really wanted to see a better future for me, I would have just tried to see my dreams to the end. How sad that even a dream, I don’t have one. 


So like a rebellious child, I kept whining and sulking silently about my life. Because then, I can just pretend that everything is fine. I can just go on without even looking back is how I torment myself.


Then, I can soak myself in regret for a hundred million times as if I mourn the times wasted in the past. Isn’t this what we do when someone dies? We mourn until we feel better. I feel something died inside of me and mourning feels like an eternity.


If I don’t do this I feel that I couldn’t hold my ground. I would just lose all my control and self-sabotage.


I’m not sure what I was waiting for and what will come out after waiting. Even this still is a blur to my eyesight.


I guess tearing up my eyes is the simplest way to let this all out. 


Not making a decision and making a decision both put me on a standstill. And I’ve been going through all this as in a hamster wheel.


That is why I feel that I live but at the same time, I feel I’m not living it at all. It’s crippling.


But this poem that was written by Do-Jong Hwan entitled “Flowers that bloom when shaken” reminded me to raise my chin up again because there aren’t any beautiful flowers that bloom without being shaken. This poem is keeping quite a good company to my sad and helpless self.


I’m not sure what season that I, like a flower, will bloom. Not that it matters much. But at least now I have something else to think about and something else to do.



I want to do whatever I can. And if doing whatever I can mean seeing things to the end, I’ll do it.

I want to know how this would turn out. I wouldn’t even be asking a lot as much as gaining more self-confidence in the end. So until my stem gets straightened out, I’ll keep trying. Now, I don’t just even think about crossing or breaking this huge wall, in fact, I want to grow beautiful flowers on it, too. ❤














Reflection: Wildflower

Hi. How was your long vacation?

Well…lately I’ve been doing quite a lot of reflecting.

And it seems I was becoming quite adamant about it while doing my duties at home.

As a mother and as a teacher, I don’t see the difference between the two. At home, I discipline my children and I give an excuse that it’s all for them. That someday this will make them a better person who would contribute well to the betterment of the society.

At school, I discipline my students and give the same reasons why I had to do what I had to do.

This love and hate, hot and cold emotions are weighing too much inside me. And I was going on about it over and over and over again believing that this is the way for them to survive the harsh world. I guess I never really tried to differentiate my children and my students. I only look, only judge then, hope for the better.



What a load of crap I’ve been harboring myself. I think, if there was anything I mastered while doing this, it was feigning ignorance and indifference and nothing else.


Over the years, I feel terrible about myself. I realize how indifferent I have become to the people I care about. Because of this, motherhood and teaching become more of a burden rather than a fulfilling role.

I have strayed far and deep. It’s sickening!


I always ask myself if there was a poem I’d like what would it be and why?


I couldn’t think of one.


That was how pathetic and inferior I was. Then out of a habit, I would turn up and tell myself off, being a teacher doesn’t make me know all the answers. So not having one as a favorite or as a mantra doesn’t make me much less of a person.


Yes, I know. I’ve been feeding my cold, indifferent and arrogant self with loads of crap. So who am I to say that I am qualified and competent to take these roles both as a mother and as a teacher when I keep getting them all confused.


That’s why my children and my students can look at me with cold eyes with a forced smile. “What a hateful mother and a teacher, you are.” is probably what’s been going on inside their hearts and mind. As for me, I feel that there’s absolutely nothing I can do to change this.

And I keep sinking deeper and deeper into the mud. And I call myself a mother and a teacher in front of them.

How pathetic, hopeless and self-serving this space I created for myself!


What is the right way? What is the truth? And, what is the answer?


I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.


Please tell me, I want to know.


I’ve been looking but not seeing. I’ve been feeling but not understanding. I’ve been going through it but as a bystander. Running towards a cliff then falling over and over again still without finding anything.


It’s rather exhausting.



“I want to change it. I want to do something about it.” is what I hope to do.


So, this ignorant, self-absorbed and hopeless person that I am want to acknowledge the fact that I am lacking in so many ways. With this, I’ll work hard to be forgiven and to reassess myself as a competent and qualified candidate for these special roles.



I read a poem today by Na Tae Joo entitled “Wildflower.”


poem wildflower


So, I’ll leave myself with this poem I’m quite fascinated about.


I still don’t know the way, the truth, and the answer. After all, exams aren’t made for those who already know but for those who don’t.


Indeed, It’s a week-long vacation! 🙂 ❤






We all cry differently

Just as the cicadas buzz…the cats meow and the snakes hiss…the human’s cry

out of anger





 happiness and,



We all express ourselves differently. When we see tears, we perceive it differently.


Humans and everything human—is quite astonishing.


When relationships are broken and ties are severed, loved ones died and everything is all over the news, 


Sometimes, there is too much noise pollution in human lives that we wish we could change or silence it forever.


We all cry differently because different aren’t we?


But how we hear the noise and how we listen to each other’s cry are what make us humans.


When a mother cries because her son assaulted someone else’s sons and daughters…

When the son blames his father’s alcohol addiction…

When the daughter takes all the consequences and keeps silent…

When people are just people…


Isn’t this the world?



Someone died. All three people cried.



They cried in their own way and all the world did was let go.



I guess everything continues to happen even before one makes the decision?

Time doesn’t wait and its value reduces or increases depending on how one perceives it. Either we erase the concept of time in our memories or we wait until we are ruled out of this world.


still, we are shown a series of open roads leading to something or somewhere…


So what if a decision was made?

another path opens, a new set of people appear, the journey continues, isn’t this what one normally hears?


I wonder if humans have really progressed or only delayed the result?


Just as the cicada’s buzz…the cat’s meow and the snake’s hiss… the human’s cry.


We have thoughts about how to live a life just as cockroaches have a way to survive.


Cockroaches that don’t make noise when scavenging filths everywhere

They run and hide

They grow big and come out flying at times

Pests they are and always will be


and yet,


My eyes grow in amazement how no matter the conditions, they do what they do. They live how they live. Yes, cockroaches they really are.


and if a cockroach gets separated, becomes a stranger and died, they wouldn’t even have to bother making a fuss.


They live a silent life, going through the motions even though they are scarred for life.


Not that humans are cockroaches.


When families get separated and become strangers to one another and die that’s when we become alike.


Silently we go on our lives even though we are scarred for life.



We all cry differently,                                                                                                                      but do we know otherwise?











Extreme Anxiety

Why does my heart feel so much?

Isn’t having a reaction to small things the least of this heart’s concern?

But then why does my heart react and respond quickly, It’s crazy.

My eyes tear like waterfalls suddenly

Is it because I’m alive?

What gift do I have again this time?

Please, someone, wipe me I’m wet with tears, it seems, the world is collapsing and nobody’s worried but me.

Why does my heart feel so much, I feel I’m a stranger to my own body. It doesn’t respond to my call, I’m not sure I understand what’s going on.


Am I the only one?

I think now is the time I complain, right?

When I wake up at dawn and start to get emotional about something far, something unknown, just something—

Different kinds of energies I’m absorbing, it’s crazy, I think I’m going to get crazy.


What is going on? Please, someone, tell me what to do?

Is this normal?

I feel that the world wants to cry but can’t, so I’m crying on its behalf!


Do I even make any sense here?


Hello, it’s 6:45 in the morning and I have just finished crying, right now I feel someone died but I don’t know who, what or why?

I start to feel sorry, something is gripping my heart It’s hard to breathe through my nose and mouth 


Incredible, isn’t it?


To feel so strongly about something that you deliberately choke from your own saliva?


I’ve been going through all this lately, I’m starting to recognize a pattern

Though the degree of pain or the intensity of this certain sense of loss I feel differently, I think something so strong comes rushing to me and I start taking them in like water, I’m surprised myself.

I look around and everything is normal

nothing extra or excessive is going on

except me and this sudden surge of energy,

it catches my emotions deeply and I start to get a runaround


am I having any symptoms of a disease or a disorder?


Oh please, anything except that.





I have a Black Dog

Love and hate seem to play tug of war inside me

Happy 2 hours ago then, feel sad the rest of the day

my emotions are really playing tricks with me

I can’t even remember having that best fraction of a good memory

staying at home for one week on a holiday while the rest of my circle talk about movement; being somewhere with nature

doing something; making memories.

But who’s responsible for me?

Not anyone but me.

Myself yet again—only me.

To be honest, It’s funny and I’m surprised myself

How even having this Black Dog  growing up


still living with him until now, nothing much has changed I’m sure.

I lasted for this very long not having been bitten by my own Black Dog only he seemed unmoved.

I get quite comfortable by His companionship and

People who never take the time to know me blame it to my Personality

I was told, ‘Don’t mix it up with your personal issues.’ 

‘My goodness! Why do you keep making the wrong decisions.’

‘You should think! You should learn to adapt!’




Have you any idea how it is for me on a daily basis?




Because of your words, my brain now feeds me with “I’m not doing my best.

That I wasn’t working hard.’

that ‘I’m not enough.’


and My heart just couldn’t wrap around these thoughts. And my Black Dog grows even bigger in reflection.


Not long ago, I was prepared to fight. I showed no mercy because I so wanted to be in that better place.

Far away from this Black Dog. Away from me. Away from you.


Running away feels like a good idea-

You could say that’s how I lasted til now.


I contemplated and realized that there was no going away with my Black Dog.


I always want to fight it but my Black Dog only does two things: to grow in size and to follow me around.


How do you expect to fight something as unresponsive and as constant as this?


I certainly don’t know. and I’m always left losing my energy; always left losing my life force at the end of the day.


So far, this world has offered me nothing grand to replenish my energy.

Perhaps, it has a lot in it that nothing interests me like it’s supposed to.


That’s why my Black Dog stays, lingers, lives.


I’m already exhausted fighting while improperly breathing. It’s hard. 


I hate myself.


I pondered more. 


Should I continue doing this? Tomorrow never seems to bring any changes. It didn’t make me healthier, didn’t make me much stronger.


Should I live on? 


What should I do? I’m on my own. 


Those gentle voices around me make me want to look at the ground often and the people I love, I love seeing them happy and bright. I love seeing them healthy and proud.


Because I have tried it so far but couldn’t bring myself to this kind of a better place


as I wish for everyone and everything else to be better around me, I’m gradually being eaten by my Black Dog who’s now making His aggressive moves inside me.


I can’t do much about it now. My exhaustion weighs heavier than me, I can’t move.


It will only be a matter of time before my Black Dog can completely devour me…


I don’t know for how long I’d last this time. 


But perhaps it would be ok if anyone notices. I don’t care who they are and what they might be…



Please just hurry and see me. 






My heart is in pain

I’m in pain

but if you are happy, if you can smile again

I will be ok.

The clouds are darker now than yesterday

it will rain more, storm more because of your passing

erasing your scent, washing your memories that are now perhaps flooding that better place you’ve been seeing

While on Earth, my tears will shed my worst longing

Perhaps, you think I’m greedy

and my whining has only delayed your departure

but what can the poor me do? My loneliness that’s about to explode—

‘Goodbye My love’ ‘You’ve worked hard.’ are wishes that won’t probably come out of my mouth since you have long become my heart

You are so unfair. Expecting me to send you off still with the heart of a good friend.

Putting me through all this, how could you be so optimistic?

If being good means without you; Oh I can’t hear you

Oh I can’t touch you

I can’t find you—

But if you are happy. If you can smile again then,

won’t I be ok?

The rain has started gently,

                                                falling in a sad rhythm,

                                                                                          but with a crushing sound in my heart

as if it wants to sympathize with me now.

Staring directly outside like I’m staring at you trying to make pieces of you again

and the Fool. Fool. Fool in me swirls with the idea of following you any minute now…

You are a light that grows more translucent the farther one looks

behind the moist glass mirror in the early morning

I can see a tiny flash of light that doesn’t disappear no matter how painful it gets

the unsteady image between us now becomes misty in regret

when obscures from the view. 

However one looks at it is something I’m unable to grasp despite knowing the pain of being torn apart; of dying now that the palm of my hands is drenched in tears.

my awful mistakes, these imploring feelings will be judged once again.

They are being soothed and spread by the rain growing lighter with my tears.

Dear humble light before me,

bearing the soft touch of our beautiful memories that weaken me

so that I wouldn’t reflect on our requiem, please,

imprison me in eternity.

pour me that shrewd smile with transparent eyes

They are being soothed and spread by the rain growing lighter with my tears.

I can see a tiny flash of light that doesn’t disappear no matter how painful it gets.

as time passes,

as times passes,

the tiny light will give in with memories of only being tiny the farther one looks.

They are being scattered by the sorrows, getting thinner because of the tears of pain.


Time moves.

Time forgets.










In loving memory of You

What is so precious about this life?

When everyone I know who loves and believes in it finally decided to end it?

Is it that they are brave to choose a different kind of way to live this life?

Is it that I am jealous how whether they are right or wrong, they have made a decision for themselves unlike the coward in me?

Would you say that they were enlightened or would you say like the rest of the world would that they were fools?


Someone so precious, so full of life yet having the eyes of a wounded puppy asking for help but is constantly being abandoned?

Where are those friends, those people how could not one of them saved him?

Didn’t they hear it in his laughter? Couldn’t they have known it in the melody of his music?

How he begged like a street child while singing to the world the music that he created—

Did he need a more dramatic production to make his suffering known?


I’m sorry. It would have been ok had I not been a useless pawn of fate.

What point is there of it all now? What is there to be thankful for?

When your cruel smile and mesmerized eyes diffused the colors of the sky, he told him he was just lonely.

Lonely, I am lonely is what he’s been telling himself oh, how he have missed that memory when his mom took his hand and made him lunch in grade school…


Now at 28 after everything, what one would never understand happened.

His long and deep breath, do they mean anything to you now?


Should he just lived on? Or would you just say I’m sorry?

I beg of you oh, what could be done?

I worry about you

Don’t say things like there aren’t that many people who want to get to know the real you. Just as there are those who don’t, there are also those who do and always will do.

Just wait for the exceptional work of fate coz you haven’t met them yet, wait until we cross paths

It wouldn’t be that very long.


What are you so anxious about?

Them only wanting to destroy you, you might as well give them the false credit

like a child you hide in your crib, crying and just crying perhaps,

hoping that someone will notice

To reach their arms and hold you

If only we could grasp everything in our hands except that glorious memory

would matters be any different had you chosen to express what taught your heart to cry the worst of pain?


I couldn’t as of the moment be any much of a help

as you can see you and I seem to be brought by the same world but held differently in time and space

You talk ahead of yourself, see the view beyond others

is that why you feel so lonely; so awfully miserable?

Try so hard to keep it in to know what happiness or if it would be enough


Look at you always talking sad words disguised as fun and a pint of logic

but look at what you’ve done to yourself

how you have allowed such suffering to torment you

Always telling me to leave you you’re fine

See what you’ve done, what a pity

You abandoned me; abandoned me I’m speechless


How else do you expect me to live this world full of life and smiles

All the lies, all the pain you threw them all over me at once

What am I supposed to do with these tears?

I pray to the stars to fall at once and exchange your tears with those tiny lights

I can only touch and taste bitter memories of you


Why bring this to yourself, I want to resent you; resent you ending it all

leaving me not a word of a faint goodbye

How cruel are your songs they kill me every time I hear the notes rise and fall

with nothing to do despite all the means I could have done, oh, if they were your tiny screams

Oh, what could be done?


Don’t you see this world doesn’t necessarily have to love you or accept you,

wouldn’t it be enough to have few but feels so much?

Thoughts about dying, loneliness, and judgment

What would I have done instead or how if there was any way I could save you

tell me please tell me


I want to beg you like this forgetting all that we have done

all the happiness now abandoned, forgotten by your

cruel acts of suicide


Oh what could be done; what could I have done, please

it’s saddening my heart spins like crazy looking out for answers

but none has appeared except those glorious days full of regrets and sorrows…




Memories of a dried flower

The sun has finally bid his farewell

To a whole rough day

Flowers that have shone bright out

Swaying loosely by the wind’s gentle blows

Now have wilted back to their

Natural form

Come now smile for me, my days well-spent

The dew had traversed my petals bearing

The memories of a strong scent

Like a violin it cries without the music

One day such as today won’t come again

Imprisoning; poisoning my heart with beautiful dye

When sorrows now color my petals brown

Calling me back to the dust

Shall I let my nervous time pass?

Time passes and I’m still wrapped by the translucent image of a peaceful day in this world

And I cry in pain like a violin left with its song

Quietly, beside my awkward mistakes at night

Where my flowers have dried; weary of overexertion

Can anyone notice?

Can anyone see?

How a day exhausted the life of a beautiful flower

Out shining with the morning dew swaying loosely to those

Strangers, growing little

Bearing only the memories of a day filled

With my regret from the sorrows now in sync as in the

fading of a dear sunlight.

I welcome the end of a day as I always open it earlier than others

My time is calling; the wind is blowing

And my strength now sapless by the colors of my sorrow.


song lyrics:

Verse 1

You don’t want to get hurt

It’s what you said after behaving differently last night

I know

It seems staying in love is too much of a burden when

you don’t have love yourself

You are afraid

even in your dreams, you don’t want anyone to know

how miserable your heart has been


I’m sorry please stop crying

I’ll stay with all your harsh words until

you see that you can love me even after so many prayerful moments

of unheard screams

That the gentle wind may touch your heart 

you’ll be surprised how forgetting won’t

even be necessary

Come, my love, let’s love

Verse 2

Don’t live in a dream, please

Oh what do you know about me anyway

Words don’t flow easily to me, not as 

water or as wine

Don’t need to stick it out with me

As you move along in this romance

you’ll feel pain even more because

love just

hasn’t opened its doors for me, not yet


I’m sorry please stop crying

I’ll stay with all your harsh words until

you see that you can love me even after so many prayerful moments

of unheard screams

That the gentle wind may touch your heart 

you’ll be surprised how forgetting won’t

even be necessary

Come, my love, let’s love


You are a fool 

Things don’t go as planned always

Giving up on you because I give up on myself

don’t make sense

To me, I always know

Missing you crazily until my view gets dark

What should I do but confess and

hope I get this chance 

I’ll reach you, you’ll see what this stupid fool can do


I’m sorry please stop crying

I’ll stay with all your harsh words until

you see that you can love me even after so many prayerful moments

of unheard screams

That the gentle wind may touch your heart 

you’ll be surprised how forgetting won’t

even be necessary

Come, my love, let’s love

Post Chorus

Special moments keep passing by

precious memories are screaming high

Let me do what I do best

Come to me, burn that fire with me

Now come we’ll take our chance 

our lives are waiting ahead of us

stop no more…cry no more…

I love you just tastes better 

we can give into this moment

One more time

Hi, how long has it been?

I feel like writing to you again, this rather sorrowful and full of longing letters.

I may write simply and my words seem flying here and there.

But one more time, I want to remember you.

The you, who left that wonderful song in my memory.

When “I love you” is playing in my lips again like a ballad

and your warm memories that keep blowing to the back of my neck

whispering to the tiny hole that held my heart tightly like rusted shackles.

One more time, can I remember that person in you I adore the most?

I woke up suddenly and this uneasiness made me afraid, so foolishly, as if I woke up from a nightmare I wasn’t sure was mine.

How are you? When questions like this rush to me unknowingly in the midst of my space from an unknown territory, I feel so awkwardly impossible.

It isn’t cool anymore. I don’t feel awesome about this.

I wonder if one more time, you have thoughts of me too or have you totally forgotten the girl who was once clinging on to you not knowing what to do or why

While I couldn’t know my feelings then I kept making difficult mistakes; seeking trouble all the time when I meant to do well in everything.

I talked about this and that like flying saucers and serpents all together served to me at night when I remember how my heart raced towards you, I felt both grateful and miserable.

I seem to know what to do when my heart beats fast and I start to have these little goals, bouncing back from sadness and happiness and being crazy and oh, that tiny hope spread in my heart.

One more time, I feel good to peak through your memories like God working through his beloved Earth.

I miss you and the veins in my heart start to swell as if they remember the one person giving so much pressure in them.

I’m sorry, please I wish for falling rain to be falling stars tonight as I imagine you once again in my small mind and wondering heart.

“Is there something bothering you now? Let me help you.” I want to say but somehow this heart that cries with the same image imprisoned inside of it for so long I thought I had far gotten rid of…

I plead please..please..please…one more time, look my way …but now I am the one writing fantasies again because I want to return to your side full of warmth and smile.

Today, I believe I can recognize the years that had passed and the mountains I climbed to reach this far.

I wouldn’t say I am perfectly well but compared to the time I was lost, I think I’m quite in a better place now. I’m saying this because I can stand with my emotions once again and I can think of myself as someone who breathed so much air in the past that it no longer obstructs my way of thinking.

Before I thought of myself as someone not outstanding, I didn’t like to stand out or talked about myself as a public resource, it scared my fickle heart so, instead of focusing on what matters and speaking with value, It appeared that I continued to unleash useless words and frivolous actions.

I used to think that I wasn’t good at math and true to this day, I never once felt that I was good at it. It was something I avoided in the past. For me, although life feels like solving a problem and living it at the same time, I never once believed that I’d come up with one solution, therefore, I kept making mistakes and get ridiculed by them. While this should be the truth, that this should make me feel more alive, I willfully questioned it and look for answers elsewhere.

The ‘me’ who asks a lot of questions and the ‘me’ who just wants to surrender to all of it and flow through it, it pains a lot. Looking in the mirror seeing how I have so forgotten ‘love’ in the course of finding me in it.

One more time, the roots that keep growing beneath me amassing space secretly. At this rate, I should have grown a tree. A tree indeed but without leaves. having branches arching and extending everywhere as if reaching for something I feel I should have known by now…then, realizing that I have filled another space unfilled once again.


Want to know what I feel?

I feel like an ancient tree growing peacefully. The kind of peace that makes me want to laze around and not do anything. I feel like I’m cutting branches one by one like clipping my fingernails one by one while trying to supply the emptiness after every cut.

such a foolish act for crying out loud. I know.

I am not a genius, certainly not a prodigy but today I realize that even geniuses have genius problems to mind as well.

As for me, determination, patience, and hard work seem to sit well with me. I can’t give up yet. I’m on this journey and the results are yet to come. In the future that’s too far ahead, I won’t even promise that I’ll live a perfect life. But at least, even I, want to be interesting; to live this life like a heartbeat.


In the end, it will only make sense when it makes sense.


So one more time, I will never regret that time in the past. My words here reaffirm that.



A truth, one that can’t be found through imagination alone. What’s that like?

A fateful encounter, one that brings great changes. What’s that like? 

I think, a door to a bright new world is opening a little at a time. 

Her: will I write? (THIS TREE)

I want to wish again for this tree, I told the full moon
May she find new nutrients in the soil where she’s planted
Despite the wretchedness-filled environment she’s grown.

I gaze upon the sky where swelling clouds are gathered around
I pray for its rain to fall in great abundance so this tree will know
Care and forbearance.

This tree reminds me of you
Nude in spirit; barren in skin
As though Love has forgotten the ways to bloom to give life
To a new tree; to a new you.

Your heart is like this tree
Only existing by the wayside
Unattended by others
Just growing but doesn’t really know her life’s purpose
Whether to bloom or to give fruits
To purify air or to just stand as a decorative on display.

Nobody sees your superficial beauty
Be that of loneliness or your quiet struggle
Never knowing when the beckoning of life will come to pass
Or if by meeting the harbinger of death can ever be lesser than cruel.

I ask the full moon if your trunk can make smoldering embers reach until daybreak when burned
Or will it die down at the instant blow of the summer wind. (?)

I wish for your heart’s tree to grow leaves; to fall in love again
The kind of wish that’s deeply spoken only in the midnight hour
Secret wishes of the heart to fall again, to know again; to taste Love again.

I wish for you to know blush once more
The kind of blush that stirs your stomach with sweet consistency
I want those butterflies to teach you laughter again, joy in your midst
I wish for your heart’s tree to wish for our long awaited reconciliation
Allowing us to grow fully, bloom gracefully; intricately.

May this renewal call us back into a loving embrace to kiss every false starts away
I wish for your eyes to see passion the right way; the slow burning kind
So no pitfalls can ever tremor your depths.

I wish to hear the voice of my Dearest Love
That sends a thousand jolly notes jumping into my eardrums
Whispering through, “Please drink of me.”
I wish for you to fall in love again
To have someone hold you in her arms; a safe place for your dying soul.

So take what you need and gather the sage
Let its smoke send this wish, a prayer and my comfort to your heart’s barren tree.


(Today’s writing prompts/inspirations)

Her: will I write? My Dark Art

Part of me is not afraid to look at the dark side of the moon
You may think otherwise
Believing all the lies that your boxed brain can only ever produce
It’s not your fault, I know
But sometimes, your sense of lack, hostility and your “wisdom less” knowledge become detrimental in the creation of all sorts of conflict and chaos between people and relationships.

I have sat on the dark side
I watched myself die an ego death
I went to a dark night of the soul
It was never easy but I got through them all because
I’m not scared to do some “quiet introspection”
To go within myself as deep as the Marianas Trench.
I don’t do witchy stuff, don’t get me wrong
But when you see me so drain and weak
It’s when my healing energies are being sucked out of me by people who only wanted to soak in this Divine blessing
They are energy vampires who spread toxicity everywhere
Who thrives by getting close to people with a rare type of Light.

So next time, when I say dark Art, don’t confuse yourself and make needless assumptions.
I’m not a magician with magic tricks here.
No. I never sold my soul to the devil.
This is for your education, so listen intently.

Dark Art for me are all the write ups that I wrote having sorrowful, painful tones and moods. It’s when I talk about heartbreaks, loneliness, discord, abuse or the wretchedness in humanity.

These are what I produce when I’m left by myself; alone at home. This is what I have to deal with on a regular basis.
All of these energies, not my own
But from people, strangers in particular, they come at me like waves, frequencies, energetic downloads, colorful lights so random, so sudden, so fast.
I feel other people’s pain, regrets, betrayals, their struggles, their mental stress, their lies and their cries intrusively.
I call this a highly developed intuition.

What I gather intuitively becomes the content of my writings. I call it dark Art because it’s such a heavy load of negative energies that I needed to channel through writing or else, it would stay with me all day making me feel sick and tired, in depressive state sometimes for days and utmost, for years. I suffer the consequences in the end.

You may say, I have cool psychic abilities. Having some superpowers, that it’s all hunky dory to me along with those other fluffy stuff …oh well, I’ve told myself the same. But there’s nothing cute about it at all. It weighs me down so much. I can’t even protect myself against it.
Though I give out healing energies to the world but only God knows, how mess up this can get when I’m on this journey.

So please don’t be like the others who speak but only in ignorance. Them with their moronic point of view can really hurt as hell.
Overtime, I develop my skills because I have to over extend myself in order to protect myself from these physical, emotional, mental, spiritual and social vermin.

Oh please you don’t have to be empathetic or pretend that you understand.
Like I’ve said, I’m highly intuitive. I just know.

What I’d like from you:

Please educate yourself at least in order to reduce all the hate that I and the others get from your filthy plates.

Much love and ease,

Her: will I write? (Pick Me)

Pick Me. I’m a beautiful flower too.
Pick me. I can give you a nice view too.
Pick me. I’m low maintenance too.
Pick me. I’m great for shop displays and for gifting too.
Pick me. I’ll be of great use to you too.
Pick me. My oil can be your perfume too.
Pick me. My petals can be dried up too.
Pick me. I’m good as new too.
Pick me. I’m fresh like the morning dew too.
Pick me. I can make you smile too.
Pick me. I am colorful too.
Pick me. I can never hurt you too.
Pick me. I can be wild too.
Pick me. I’m a rare kind too.
Pick me. I can stay with you too.
Pick me. I have sweet nectar too.
Pick me. I am bright and symbolic too.
Pick me. I can die for you too.
Pick me. I’ll be with you in death too.
Please pick me. I’ll be that flower in your funeral too.
I can be with you forever if you can pick me too.

Pick me too.

Her: will I write? (I Believe)

I believe in things, in people.
I believe in myself, in God who’s The Greatest.
I believe in being good, in other people’s goodness
I believe even if it’s easy for others to be cynical, skeptical and, hyper-rational
In everything.

To some it’s a risk, it makes me stupid
But I’m about to tell them, well,
I’ve got crazy dreams and stupid chances
And I risk them all not because I’m stupid but because of my
Strong belief that life is my oyster.
Treasures are found not because they are revealed.
They are found because someone believes and searches for them
The same way, they become real because someone believes that what they’ve found are treasures and that, they are treasures of high value
For nothing is set in motion when no one believes
When one believes, one works hard to earn it
When one has earned it, everyone celebrates
When everyone celebrates, some get jealous they separate
Yes. It is what it is. Such is life.

Love I believe is one of the most prized treasures
A lot may find but very few get to keep it
And it’s not a curse but is one of life’s mysteries
When love arrives, we doubt and dismiss
When love arrives, we don’t believe
When love arrives, we think it’s something else
When love arrives, we confuse ourselves
We forget that love has come, it’s here, and we welcome it.
Instead, love has come, we let it go and we take something or someone else.

And I know you and I have our own shoes to fit into
We have our shells to crack out
We have boxes we get ourselves into
We have lives we hide away
Or stories that we never let others read fully
In this life, we think more of existing rather than living
Yet it’s all we can do and nothing else, is what you’d say.

So it takes a lot of courage to be different
To think differently and be differential
I believe I’m not afraid of losing
Not too frightened of the endings
It’s because I’m not scared of having new beginnings
And all these don’t matter, you need not tell me
I just know because this is my belief.
We can agree to disagree here but I’m putting it out nonetheless
I take risks in what I believe in
I believe I have eyes set on the prize
And my actions are geared towards greater heights
I win, I lose
I succeed, I fail
I live or die
It’s God’s will not mine
But I experience more, I learn some lessons
So I dust my butt off ready to start over
Maybe I’m a fool, or a little bit wiser

That’s why I’m here, is what I’m saying.

Her: will I write? (Talk To Me)

Talk to me like an old friend
I can be that friend
I can take on a different role to suit your needs
We can be casual or formal
I’ll give you that emotional choice if you want.

But talk to me
Let me know

Don’t wait around too much
If you desire to, I’m here.
I’m open. I’m waiting.
Talk to me
I’m not strict in terms of the subject
But it’s important for me that you communicate
For after all, I’m just a woman without psychic powers
And being a magician only happened to me in my dreams
Last night.
Although I’m highly intuitive
But between what I already know and don’t know
I’d still prefer an honest revelation from you
And you might ask, why?
Oh Dear.
Have you forgotten how the foundations of the world was made?
When God said, “Let there be light.”
Indeed light came about.
When He said, “Let’s make man in our image and likeness.”
Indeed, man came to be in His image and likeness.
And we can skip the entire process however, this I tell you-

There’s power in utterance.
There’s power in your words.
Words can speak life.

So you can stop worrying about the details.

You can lock away your fears
You can store your doubts in a time capsule
You can keep all the negatives if you want it hidden

I can wait until you are ready to introduce them
One by one
In slow music, small steps or in a spectacular presentation

You can call the shots.
I don’t mind the ways.

But I do mind an honest and clear communication
As I don’t want to misunderstand, misinterpret or misrepresent
And I know that you are shy and perhaps you feel that I’m out of your league

But like I’ve said, I’m only great once you put me up on a pedestal
I become ordinary as soon as your magic wears off
Immediately, I’ll be sitting next you.
Just let me know.

Talk to me
Without the rituals
Or any lofty public ceremonials.

Talk to me
From zero to hero
No excuses, just moments of you with me.

Of course, this goes both ways
Doesn’t matter who comes forward first or last
There’s no one to compare
We are in no competition
I’m not aware of the literal mind games
Be assured that I play no tricks
I hold no threats
I’m prone to errors and mistakes
I’m imperfect in absolute ways
But I have days when I’m perfect
It’s when you think that I am.

Me and you
You and me
Real time
I know lovers and friends do this
Even foes respect this

I need to know what’s on your mind
It might feel good to be your Kryptonite
But I don’t wish to be my Hero’s demise.

Come to me.
Ask me
Even if the timing isn’t right
We can compromise
There’s no one way
It’s not my way or the highway
Talk to me
You’ll see
We’ll be fine.

We can hold that emotional space.
Just say the word
And I’ll be on my way to that sacred place.

Her: will I write? (Woman)

Woman, where do you go when you’re shaken by doubt?
Do you turn to cigarettes and tobacco for an aromatic air?
Do they calm you? Release you from the shackles that grip you?

Woman, who do you welcome at home when you’re cold and lonely?
Is it a sweet homeless dog or an unknown reckless stranger?
Does he give you the warm comfort of emotional stability? Does he tell you to forget your past and just burn the night with him? Does he devour you and make you lose yourself underneath the silk sheet? Does he tell you he loves you? Does he give you the rainbow? Does he throw you his life vest so you can live? Or does he jump off to a spare boat first even before the captain calls to abandon the ship?

Woman, where do you place your ears? Do you place them in your heart to listen to your soul’s rhythm? Or do you place them in your friends mouths for their self-indulgent whispers disguised as words of wisdom? Do they tell you they are your solid rock? So rock solid that they don’t break on shaky grounds or sink into a real quicksand? Really?

Woman, who do you give credit for your charm and self-confidence? Is it the bottles of cold beer, Black Hennessy and the frenzy night clubbing? Do they make you stand proud; make you feel well-supported? Do your friends warn you of your wasted demeanor or do they clap their hands when you’re dirty dancing? Do they raise you up when you crawl to the kitchen toilet to puke or do they leave you with other men to care for you? Do they cover your nudity against the eyes of evil men? Or, do they make you hide in an icy cold freezer?

Woman, why do you look so down so troubled? Has anyone torn your grit and made you bow down in fear? Will you grab a fancy wine and drown yourself in the bathtub like a pathetic calendar beauty?

Woman, who got your tongue-twisted that you stopped speaking for the truth, justice and power? Will you hide your tail like a guilty sinner or will you hunt these witches for dinner?

Woman, whose home do you knock to look for a good rest and a new beginning? Is it God’s mighty and glorious wings? Or is it The Devil’s floating and glaring sand castle?

Woman, are you really not enough? So fragile and weak? Low and meek? Is your life a cheap giveaway that everyone can just grab or put on display? Are you so insignificant to be preyed on by deceitful snakes and starved greyhounds?

Now woman, tell me!

Who do you say you are?

Her: will I write? (Delicate Flower)

You are such a delicate flower
With a color so fair like silk
Heat waves make you delicate; you wilt and fall with ease.
My delicate flower I want to feel your depth
I want your icy breath
Mighty and splendor at night to my candor.

My delicate flower; my muse
Can we love like babies who are yet to learn how to crawl?
Pure yet amorous like a raving lunatic
My delicate flower; a radiating beauty you are
You have an allure so pristine; so tranquil

Let me take you to the coast where no other flowers bloom but your beauty alone
Let me dance with you in the cold waters of the sea
Twirl around your long and strong arms
Hold my beauty in your palms
And lovingly gaze at it with your charming smile like a delicate flower that one worships in both day and nighttime

My delicate flower, let me share a sweet kiss with you—
Until the morning fog clears away
Let me measure your depth and breadth as we wait for the rising sun
Tell me how soon or how late
Until your fair skin becomes sun-kissed.

Her: will I write? (Please Wait For Me)

Please wait for me.

I’ve been away, I know
But wait for me, please
Not this sunset
Or tomorrow’s sunrise
I can hardly tell you when
But wait for me, please.

Please wait for me
Even if calls or texts are as remote
as the next blood moon
Please wait for me
Selfishly, I ask of you.

Please wait for me
Even if someone else is feeding the birds, the cats and the dogs
Please wait for me even if I’m no longer around to water the plants
Hold your heart close for me
Please wait for me.

Don’t come looking for me yet please
Not anywhere, not everywhere
Don’t find me in that same old coffee shop
Don’t go asking people around for my name
Don’t dream of me even
My Sweetest Love, not yet please.

Save everything for me
All the longings, bitterness, anguish, rage, sadness, feelings of abandon, your moments of fear, self-doubt and all your irrepressible tears. You can cry foul all you want too.
I’ll take them all, I don’t mind
But I have got to be with you first
So please wait for me.

Now may not be my premiere
It might not be soon enough
I know.
I know I’m not there
I won’t be here either
I can barely tell you my whereabouts
But please wait for me.

Be intrigued instead of what you can do now
While I’m away, distantly—
Consider yourself as the happiest woman there is
Be joyful, see more sunrises, love more sunsets
Pray for a warm evening too.

Make time for yourself
My Sweetest Love, you don’t need to wilt in wait
You can bloom like the flowers in Spring
You can be the beacon of light to other drifters too
You can love the moon like I do to you for you are my silver moon.
You can gaze at the stars and pick one for your own
You can cuss the wind and write my name on a leaf
You can see the world, ride the waves and yes, you can climb mountain tops as well
Be full of vigor, be excited, be at ease, be free, be healthy, be on a journey to know yourself.
Do whatever, be whoever you want.


Please don’t wait for me like a dying champion.
Please don’t sit around waiting for Time, for me, or for the next holiday season
For you are my silver moon with so much mystic and allure.
Your beauty can affect the ocean tides
Yes. You are that impactful. So powerful.

Sure. You’ll have your moon phases too
All ugliness, all flaws, all inadequacies you keep, if they are all coming from your own, I know, you’ll have nothing but abundance in the end.

One day
Let’s meet again
Let’s talk again so you can tell me all of your adventures.

I’ll hold your hand
I’ll keep you close
I’ll cry with you too
I’ll laugh with you
I can even tell you what will be your next adventure
I’ll surprise you
I’ll be with you when you march forward.

For now
Wait for me please
Somehow please wait for me
I know that Time is as fleeting as our youth but please
Wait for me no matter the hour or the day
Neither the season nor the occasion can foretell
But please wait for me
Somehow I need you to wait for me
It’s not my time yet
It’s not our time yet

There are seasons for planting
And seasons for harvesting
There are days of loving
But there are also nights of leaving

But stay on course
Keep your fountain eyes open
Keep your heart high
Don’t falter, don’t waiver
I’ll come back
I’ll be sure to come to you
I’ll be rushing towards you

But only not at this time.

To you my Sweetest Love, please wait for me.

Her: will I write? (Who I Want To Be)

I want to be larger than Life
Yet smaller than the Lord
To be greater than the storm
Yet subtler than any fits of anger
To be as radiant as the sun
But not as glorious as the Heaven above
To soar as high as the eagle
To dive as deep as the whale
I want to be as open as a book
But not as profound as a man’s towering ideals
To be as beautiful as the universe
And as graceful as a dainty flower
I want to be stronger than the lion
But not as cunning as a fox
To be as diligent as an ant
As well as busy as a bee
I want to be as proud as the wildest tree
Yet more organic than your Instagram beauty
I want to be as charming as a nymph
To be as generous as a mermaid
But not as a deranged trickster
I want to be as shrewd as a high Priestess
But not as vulgar as your staunch stalker
To be as close to you as forever
So near to you like a lover
I want to be as mysterious as the phases of the moon
Yet as calm and as gentle as a butterfly’s transformation
To be as sweet as a nectar
As pure as a morning dew
I want to be as meek as a sheep
Yet as loud as its shepherd
To be as friendly as a dog
And as light as a feather
To be softer than a pillow
But sturdier than a cupboard
I want to be as violent as the monsoon in love
Yet as overflowing as a waterfall
To be full of love like a child
So merciful like an angel of God.
I want to be as jovial as a cat
But not as predictable as the coming season.
To be alluring as the sea
But as dangerous as a cliff
To be as dreamy as the clouds
Yet as grounded as the roots
I want to be as clear as a day
To not be as hazy as an afternoon fog
It is my pleasure to be who I want to be
But only in the eyes of the Lord who can see right through me.

Her: will I write? ( The Kind Of Broken That I know)

I’m broken on the inside—

It’s the undercurrent of fear that consumes every light that comes from me
It’s the undercurrent of anxiety that runs deeply through my body
It’s that sudden jolt of overwhelming darkness that nullifies my world of reality
It’s that surge of energetic downloads that hit me like violent waves they come to drown me
It’s that peaceful house that collapses burying me under the rubble of multiple illusions
I feel broken inside.
That I curl up in my bed for hours just waiting for my body to calm down
My restricted movement can only reach a pillow, and more pillows.
Pillows that I keep close to my body for warmth and security.

It’s the undercurrent of voices from people who tell me what’s essentially right for me
Them telling me they’ve been to the place where I have gone to myself
That they knew what to do exactly if only I wasn’t too stubborn to handle.

Many people know a lot. It seems I am the only one who’s kept in the dark so utterly useless
Worthless that I…
Have lost my appetite.

It’s the undercurrent of doubt and unlimited assumptions that keep multiplying in my head
Silently feeding my thoughts with those forgotten memories of my past life
It has killed my zest for life.

What you may have witnessed were layers of thick veils of illusions; replicating my day to day realities, projected even more so you’d think that the person in charge was still alive, healthy and happy.

The devil sits on my shoulders, my inner demons have made my body their own battlefield
Each time they strike, is a grand volume of inflicted pain that I must endure
They said what I needed was love
Oh Love.
My body has been infected, corrosive enough that I have no more space to house such love
How on earth can love be enough to fill an empty vessel, to fill a void that’s all encompassing?
How would you understand a shadow that you can only see when light’s being cast and where there’s none, it becomes unknown to man?

That’s why I am broken inside.

Such brokenness comes then disappears…
It’s not a tangible thing that you can grab and hold
Not visible for you to mark it with your healing words
It’s illusive, evasive, preemptive.

It comes instantly, it stays in seasons, then disappears painfully
Where it hurts, It would hurt
Where there’s none it hurts even more
What’s broken can’t be touched, what can’t be touched is left to waste until it gets destroyed

Healing is a wishful anticipation of something that will never ever dissipate.