An Ode to the Asshole Cat That Wouldn’t Leave the HDB Flat Someone Else Was Trying to Move Into

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Stupid asshole cat.

Are you trying to fly again, my dear?
You’re brandishing the broomstick like a man on a mission,
Staring out at the boundless sky, where the lady in the moon
Is awaiting her replacement.

Shoot up the bedroom-
Bang, bang, bang
Scream out “IT’S ALWAYS ME LAH, MY FAULT LAH-“
I will still be here, always here.

You are dancing in the living room,
Stirring up the dust mice, shaking up the grout
I will chase them away, the rats and the roaches
Just for you.

I trip over the same spot every morning.
A little ledge before the kitchen,
Just before you drop.
The threshold gets me every time.

Slowly and shakily, shivering into a stop
I try to avoid the puddles on the floor,
They are deadly to you, your sightless eyes,
But I do not understand why.

I am afraid, sometimes.
The broom swishes unpleasantly, trapping tasty spiders
Before it crash-lands upon my back,
But I’m still here, and that’s okay, isn’t it?

You are the only home I’ve got left.
If you fly away, take me with you
If you dance a pas de deux, hold me closer to you
If you fall, I will pull you up as many times as it takes,

Just don’t leave me-
Please.
Don’t go, darling, don’t leave me.

I left a dead mouse
At the foot of your missing bed.

It’s the only one I’ve ever managed to catch.

Leaving Me

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Close the door on your way out, the draft will get out. It’s cold in here, so leave for better shores. Don’t stay to catch the rain, don’t go to waste your days.

Have your jacket back, you’d need it to survive the burning sun, remnants of broken glass, tread carefully on a concrete road laid out by stone-cold love.

Remember red hair, remember to smile. Don’t remember the bathroom floor, or fogged-up mirrors. Don’t remember the dress. Don’t remember the end.

Remember her in Polaroid photos, forget the hours spent making plans alone. Forget her body, how the curves bent around you to fit all your edges, all your needs. Remember his name. Remember that she was him.

Take back the person you were before, soldier on even before you become one. Hope that the next one isn’t him. Isn’t me.

Do not hate him for loving me, hate me for leaving. Do not spend time wondering if it was you who is hurt when your hatred for him scorches me, when the sight of us cuts into you, when my flayed skin melts from the sight of you.

Ask if we are still together and when I say yes, ask if I’m happy. Realise that I’m perfectly content without you. Realise that I don’t need you.

Take off the jacket, it’s burning outside. Arrive at the wedding, prepared to leave. Notice a girl. Or a boy, it doesn’t matter. Notice she’s been staring at you for some time. Ask if she wants to dance.

Forget my name, at 4am in the morning, when you remember her face, her voice, the shrill sound of alarm clocks. Hold on tight.

It’s not easy the close the door behind you. It’s easier to be hidden in the closet, wishing to be the one hidden in the sheets. But it’s hard to be the one between the sheets, fully clothed, haunted by the closeted memory.

The exit is stage right. Remember to eat properly. Remember to rest well. Remember to close the door as you leave. Don’t look back.

Please just leave.

Möbius Trip

Written on a bus on the way home, 3rd November.

1. It’s 8pm. I’ve been out since 3pm and so far I’ve sung my lungs out and stuffed my face with more Korean Barbecue than I ever thought I would ever consume in my lifetime.

2. You weren’t supposed to see me today, I think parting would’ve hurt less if you didn’t call me. But you wanted to be here on my birthday, even if it were only for a moment.

Continue reading “Möbius Trip”

How To Love Your Broken

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Do not let him tell you he’s weak. And when he does, tell him he’s wrong. Don’t let him believe the lies they’ve fed him, love all of the “girly” that sits in his body. Ask him if he would like to tell you how he feels and don’t pry.

Don’t be fooled into thinking you can fix him. You can’t love away abuse, no matter how much you want to. When he asks give him your heart, do it, and tell him to hold it close on shaking nights, the hours where you can’t reach him. Don’t let him believe that you are the answer, because he’d be spectacularly mistaken. Direct him, instead, to a mirror, and ask him to search for the answers there.

Continue reading “How To Love Your Broken”