Sayonara

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Photo Credit: Taken by @snarksparkle on Instagram

Performed at Blu Jaz Cafè for the Luna/tic Poetry Slam (Open Mic), hosted by Word Forward. Performance found here.

Your fingertips leave my body
Like grains of sand cascading over a boulder
Gently we part, your lips still lingering over mine
We smile. No more love poems.

I’m falling and crashing into the asphalt pavement
The rain is cracking down on my exposed spine
Never have I felt this much pressure on my hands to
Get up, get up, let go of your ghost-

How often do we get to live like this?
Your hair falls around you as you toss a giggle over your shoulder
I catch your hand and we leap off a cliff into the sea,
Happily, everything falls and settles.

The wave hits me like an angry mother
She crams her salt-riddled palm down my throat
99 paper roses and a pocket full of heart
I feel the pull of the tide and my lungs are-

Softly, your fingertips are dancing over my chest
Platonic plates shift and fall back into place
You are so-

Why is it that I am crying over the last petal as it falls away from the 99th paper rose
Did you know that I stayed up late to make them for you?
When I told you I love you did you know how much it hurt to admit that?
My bones are breaking from letting go of you.

I want to be in love with you.
We float above the Dead Sea like otters
The salt stinging our wounds as our fingers seperate and mend
Alone, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever tried to be.

I wish you would stay the night, just this once
I hang on to the bits of you that you’ve left in my room,
Screaming my sorrow for the lost emotion in my body
The fluttering in my chest took off from my aching heart.

Loving you was the most unselfish thing I had ever done.
I wonder if letting go
Would be the kindest thing I’d ever do.

#MeToo – On Sexual Assault

Performed at Spoke and Bird Open Mic, at the Artistry. Performance found here

Sec 2, pre-puberty. I was dressed in a cloak and cosplay, running around my school, asking kids if they would like to join the drama club. Alumnis, probably, older boys, definitely, surrounded my childish frame and asked if they could join the drama club with smug faces.

One boy put his arm around me, I am haunted by what his shirt had smelled of- Too much deodorant, too much danger. My first boyfriend would only be angry because they had touched his “girlfriend”, as if I belonged to him.

Continue reading “#MeToo – On Sexual Assault”

Dead To Me

Pictured: My Ball-Jointed doll, Mindy. 

Submitted on Day 26 of #SingPoWriMo2017

She shimmered under the moonlight, your fingertips brushed over her rivers and valleys, the dip and rise of her mountains, forests and hills. And you breathed hot air on her neck, straining yourself to fit your hands around all of her, trying to hold everything you wanted closer.

I like to think that she had died in your arms. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that she had disappeared together with my memory of you. I’d like to think of her self-destruction as the moment you took her into your arms.

Continue reading “Dead To Me”