Tuesday, April 26, 2011


one year ago in a faraway land,
i watched you go, squeezing my hand.
my heart was crying, so were my eyes,
as time was turning, anti-clock-wise.

rolling back you forced a smile,
making life changes all the more worthwhile.

-three hundred and sixty five days later-

the sound of my voice you honestly heard.
the squeak. the whisper. the little tiny bird.
a whole new world simulating a newborn.
a past so cruel. gone. vanished. torn.

that adorable smile as your eyes sparkle,
makes me want to believe. instead i marvel.
that bionic bravery of yours inspires my mind.
you're the muse i was desperately trying to find.

the five different types of laughter amuse me.
you're the long lost light of my life, my lovely.
somewhere along the way you became my best friend,
the only real beginning to my long lost loose end.

and as i try to scribble this raw rhyming verse,
staying true to myself, without making it worse,
i think of all the things we've been through together,
survival of the fittest in good and bad weather.

so before words stop rhyming as i reminisce,
and before this is over, i want you to know this..
you mean the world to me, sis.

oh, and one last thing, how about that kiss?

Thursday, April 14, 2011

The Thing Is

I asked, you didn't reply,
so I left without a goodbye.
I do that sometimes,
in my head, to straighten the lines,
to clear the grey in my blue blue skies,
but with you, I'm through being nice.
I see you, napping on a bad bed of lies.
Mock me and I'll mock you twice.
Listen and I'll whisper in your ear,
out of respect, not out of fear,
I want you gone, but I want you near,
and the truth is, you're a coward, my dear.
Because the thing is..
I asked and you still didn't reply. (I'm leaving.)
And this is my goodbye.

Monday, April 11, 2011


The sewing needle that is teasing, but barely touching, the self inflated balloon of doubt is nothing but a tempting temptation, one we can all do without. Once the balloon bursts, there's no turning back. And the loud piercing sound that comes out resonates a wake up call, a trickling hourglass about to be broken. Because in the end a decision is relatively permanent. It's unavoidable, undeniable, and without a doubt, dodgingly doubtful.

Looking for answers where there are none is like looking for a rainbow on a dry, sunny, spring day. Beautiful at first, tiring as the night comes. Finding yourself stuck asking the already answered questions is like finding a stranded water bottle right beside a desert oasis. Useful at first, and then it's just insane.

Insanity depicted by restricted freedom. The middle metal ball in a Newton's cradle. A seesaw of equally heavy luggages. A tug of war of doubts. Followed by an uneven flow of oxygenated blood through the left ventricle of your heart.

Waiting for the flow to even out.

But what if it doesn't?
And what if it does?