tragedy

Blurring of the dichotomy between dreams and reality

You are in the line
between reality and dreams
on whether we turn into an “us”
or you remain being
my dream
or a shattered dream

Sometimes silence attacks me
so violently at night
I’d sleep with earphones plugged in my ears
fall asleep with the sound of a classical song
it mimics the peace in my mind
before your silence started to haunt me

Sometimes in the day
it’s okay to shut off the world
and go back to bed
maybe it was just a dream
but it felt real
I know this pain is real

Stellar

We live in a world where black is darker than white even when white is a combination of all colours. People fear the vast emptiness of the night and forget to look up and see that it only takes one small circle of white light to brighten our world. For the lover crying at the corner of the bed, for the man with the other woman, for the lost who fell hopeless when the lights faded, and for the most of humanity, faith escapes at night.We hold on to broken dreams. We play with the possibilities. We trust our dreams on dying stars.

Remnants

There are whispers of “I love you”
that give people warmth
in cold silent nights,
when the world seems to be asleep
but love doesn’t sleep.
It’s the same breathe that screams at hearts
when the memories replay
in cold silent nights.

Echoes will haunt,
tears won’t run out,
dreams will stay as dreams – unreal.

And when the day comes
you will finally understand
why break ups are called break ups.

Before dawn

 

Waking up beside her ghosts as the mind’s eye dwells

Unsafe in the tawny silence of the morning gray

The past deadly echoes like faint phantom bells

There’re no tides to turn leaving questions at bay

 

When thus alone the memories thwack

The air is still and the road is lonely

For none else in his abode to come back

To work he walks alone in dilly-dally

 

Ardour minutes lay in its approaching

The sky an azure with pearly whites

He keeps walking as daylight is in its coming

At the end of the tunnel he’ll catch the morning lights

Nightime thoughts

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I wonder what it was all about

Late night conversations that lasted ‘til 3 in the morning

The way we traded stories and you were never boring

The way we talked about our childhood pipe dreams

talked about life outside our spectacle rims

I found out we were so different to each other

Yet we liked the same things one way or another

 

What was it all about

When you smiled at me with a smile so genuine

My expectations slowly turning sanguine

How I saw you were breaking your boundary

Over our frolics we grew merry

How I came to putting down my walls without a clue

And I was just happy with you

 

I need to know what it was all about

When we hung around each other

One day and every day after

How the stars became romantic at night

How you caught me in one sight

And I end up contemplating

how we once were and not the ending

Presence

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Scars are just scars. They do not hurt any more. It is always the freshest wound that hurts most.

Scars tell their stories and it is those stories that hurt; not the scars themselves but the memories brought about when you emotionally rip off that patched up mark on your skin to have the scenes of your flesh and his flesh on the same setting, replayed on your mind.

Sometimes. Well. Sometimes.

Sometimes we do not need someone to erase the scars. Somehow we do not even feel the need for someone to serve as our vent. Not someone to listen to our life story, to listen to our tragedy and love us even after our dark history. Not someone to help us carry our luggage… burdens? Or someone to show us our future, our happily ever after. Not someone to show us how happy we could be.

Sometimes

We just need someone to be there. To smell the sweet scent of the same air. To share the silence of the night. To just be there.