I saw your exhausted eyes lined with millions of words and sentences all in an absolute jumble for the day after.
I wished my hands were beside you to pat your little head; for comfort, support.
Tonight, I dimmed your lights and made sure you're ready.
Tomorrow, I'll send my regards. You well? Prepared?
Sleep well, my dear. Sweet dreams.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
Sunday, 11 August 2013
The Dentist
Said the girl who found herself staring at her dentist's cold, dark eyes, "My cavities are not there." Her childhood fears started coming back to haunt her again. The dentist's metal instruments looked murderous. His mask added, all the more, to the eerie feel of the decrepit room.
She stared into the mirror that he held up in protest. Indeed, the microscopic holes in her teeth were there, visible to the naked eye. She noticed her pimples, and thought of how they made her look like the devil to others. Her hair seemed distraught, the ironic opposite of what was portrayed on the cover of her shampoo bottle. Everything was wrong with her eyes, her ears, her nose, her mouth, her skin.
Her soul.
A flush of thoughts rushed through her -- her lonely childhood at the orphanage after her parents' death; her mourning at her dearest's funeral; her running down the school hallways escaping from the bullies.
She tried, to live as any other would. Normal. But she could not succeed.
Maybe the dentist had the solutions. Her eyes flickered to the sharp gleams resting on the counter. One, two, three.
"Say ah," said the dentist.
"Ahhh," the girl complied. Today, she was getting her teeth fixed. Maybe tomorrow, she'd be able to live as another would. A normal life.
Someday, everything will be fixed.
It just depends on how long it'll take that day to come.
She stared into the mirror that he held up in protest. Indeed, the microscopic holes in her teeth were there, visible to the naked eye. She noticed her pimples, and thought of how they made her look like the devil to others. Her hair seemed distraught, the ironic opposite of what was portrayed on the cover of her shampoo bottle. Everything was wrong with her eyes, her ears, her nose, her mouth, her skin.
Her soul.
A flush of thoughts rushed through her -- her lonely childhood at the orphanage after her parents' death; her mourning at her dearest's funeral; her running down the school hallways escaping from the bullies.
She tried, to live as any other would. Normal. But she could not succeed.
Maybe the dentist had the solutions. Her eyes flickered to the sharp gleams resting on the counter. One, two, three.
"Say ah," said the dentist.
"Ahhh," the girl complied. Today, she was getting her teeth fixed. Maybe tomorrow, she'd be able to live as another would. A normal life.
Someday, everything will be fixed.
It just depends on how long it'll take that day to come.
Tuesday, 6 August 2013
You
Sometimes, I wonder how
long this can go on for,
with silence meaning consent
we’re worlds apart yet
I wished our hearts to beat
as one
Synchronised to time strains
the watch would never stop ticking
we can watch it push our time away
but we’ll still be closer together
I feel guilty thinking of you
because I realise everything
is one-directional; one sided
going down the drain but I
still want to imagine
your face, beautiful
amidst the sunrise
your hands, warm and tender
comfort and rested
your eyes, twinkling
like the overseers of god
in the night sky
your words, striking
wonder to my ears
One day I’ll
put my resolution on the line
and tell you of heartaches and
cheesy poems I write when I
think of you
again.
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