dominance

"i love you" i started, you held your hands close to my lips signaling for my to stop. i don't blame you, what do i understand of that anyway? i know naught, and i need to. in all my dominance, you spake zilch, you obliged, you compromised, agreed, allowed, applauded and loved. understanding my pain, my hurt, sorrows. not forgetting nor neglecting the fact that you caused them, you hurt with me. one would emerge victorious from being able to hurt and cause an emotion on another party, but you resented that fact and only continually sought to improve. "I love you", you argued, and i did too. but what did i know? zilch. none. naught. you are brave, and unarguable the best. you have hurt me the most in all aspects, you are worth so much more but you do not see it and chose to stick with someone like such. you bring me so much happiness yet in defense you would argue that the happiness is reflected from the one who first gave it to you- me. you are what even metaphors cannot describe; do i say that you're as passionate as a rose? or do i say that you're as persistent as a woodpecker? the best i can come up with is that you love me in that moment between the thunder and the lightning, the difference in second from each beat, the differences in voltage of each charge, and the distance between your skin and mine. it's slow and electrifying, quiet but expectant. it is tough and assuring, and yet close and burning.

you dominate me. 

an open letter to whoever needs it

she dreamt of butterflies and colourful hot air balloons, wonderful carnival rides and candy floss, a lot of candy floss. she thought of blue birds and black ones, and compose poems that held a tune. she wore black and white and got questioned many times why, merely smiled, and without giving an answer she just walked. she could do anything she wanted, she did not have to answer to anybody. because after all, she had the universe in her hands, she counted the cattles and laid on the green grass whenever she wanted, she counted the number of petals on a flower that dawned upon a colour she never thought she could pull off. her ash brown hair glistened in the sunlight, and her salmon pink gums showed whenever she sees butterflies playfully latching unto her, as if begging for her love, as if yearning to be in her position, "i'd rather be you" she often whispered.

the moment came when she lost herself. her silence came more often than not, "empty vessels make the most noise!" she reminded herself, her mother would be pleased. she walked around like an apology and she wanted to get smaller. she pinched the excess and drew dotted cut-out lines on parts of her flesh which she desperately felt she needed to throw away. she screamed at her reflection and longed for her mirror to burst into flames, she hated what she saw. she saw naught but the colour red, especially on the underside of her arms and the inside of her thighs. her walls were painted black and the face that once radiated in the sun is now reduced to nothing but a piece of what she considered "worthless". all she longed for was someone to pick her up and solve the mess for her; but what she did not understand was that the mess begun with her. she had to fix herself. she had to take the step out of the self-pity and for once, speak up. stop walking like an apology, stop saying sorry and meaning it. stop shortchanging and putting herself second best. the devil does not play fair.

i long for the day your eyes will glisten again with life, one day you will be strong enough to know what is best for you. one day you will understand that you are not a mistake, and that thought shall never even have the chance to float in your mind. that thought shall be extinguished like the fire that occurred the day you tried to light yourself up, "it's dark inside," you argued. when you've got nothing left to burn, you got to set yourself on fire. i long for the day you will be hopelessly unapologetic, your happiness matters more than anything else. you matter more than anything else. how do you expect someone else to regard you as first when you limit yourself to second? you are not a table, a switch, a handle. you are a human being with life and if anything, i want you to know that i miss the strength you once possess, the carefreeness that you once held like a middle finger above your head.

and you will get it all back, i promise 

to: you

tall, dark and bearing a golden tan that can serve as the epitome of health and outdoors, a sight
like such would definitely win the attention of many. by hearsay, i realised that you yield no
satisfaction in the consideration that you got. a rare sight, you're nice to the people not as
physically fortunate as you and you do naught to ostracize. admirable, i must say, alluring,
without a doubt. you carry yourself around like someone whom no one would approach, because
of your domineering physique, and your intimidating good looks. i swear i would never forget
the credulousless your eyes held the first day our eyes met. neither would i forget how those
eyes scanned the room for a glimpse of what sparked interest in you, how those things only did
add naught but ambrosial distinction that helped differentiate you from others.

i pale in comparison

is it not humbling a thought that one so beautiful and divine, would be so lack of sedate and call
someone so much unworthy of their praises all but inferior? it baffles me all day that such that
is would be ever realistic. am i too much of a realist? and is it sad that it is hurting my head how
thought provoking an incident like such can be? if all else fails and we never meet, and till our
paths if they ever cross, there is only one which i have to say; that it does not matter if you
know zilch but this, that

you don't know how lovely you are 

love is a dog from hell

“there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.

it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.” 
― Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell