Trust...

I stood with night’s breeze hugging me,
The night’s silver moon reflecting on the sea,
As melted silver; the waves to be,
Come and kiss the beaches, as an unending relation I see,
So unlike life’s many friendships,
Unique it is from all relationships.

Lifting my eyes to the silver moon,
I think to myself,
It is only flesh and blood whom,
Never leave you to yourself,
Never abandon you to cruel solitude,
And even then, there are few of your own breed that forget gratitude.

O sweet memory, O bitter memory,
Of those friends who ceased to be,
I wish it would delete itself; this memory,
Alas! T’is my mind that lets it be,
And make me lose trust for,
Humanity, which I had believed before.

~ original again, all rights reserved! ~

Forget-You-Never

[written with thoughts of all my friends; then, now & to-be]

You come.

You touch.

You leave.

Come back, please?

You can’t even hear me. Or you don’t want to. Where have those promises of “eternity” and “forever” and “always” gone? Kaput. Just like that. Just like that. Where am I left? Right here. Weeping. Missing. Longing.

No, no, don’t mind me.

Obviously I’ll get over it. That’s what your gestures mean, right? GET OVER IT! So where’s the problem, eh? Problem is I don’t truly get over it. Not ever.

When you come into my life, you do something magical to me. You give me a reason to smile when I open my eyes to a new dawn, knowing there is someone who cares what happens to me. Such is the thrill in knowing the care of someone who is not obliged to do so.

Care. What a word. What a thing.

Do you know what it means? I hear a ‘yes’. But do you truly? Another ‘yes’. Then do you care for me? An inevitable ‘yes’. And I believe you, truly, utterly, completely believe you; because I, too, care for you. Yet, there is a difference in our caring. A difference that I am not aware of. A fatal difference, if I may.

I care too much. You care just enough.

But I do not know it, and am in a state of ignorant bliss. You are one of my closest, as I am one of yours. Or so I think. How in the world would I know? I wouldn’t. I just trust.

Trust. Another of those big words. Big things.

Can I trust you? Of course, I can, even with my life. I won’t be hurt again? Never ever. You’ll be here for me. You’ll make sure I’m never hurt.

But you don’t really mean much of that, do you? Nay, I won’t judge. I don’t know what is in your heart. You speak the truth. You care for me. I can and shall trust you. You’ll never abandon me.

I smile. I’m dancing on a rainbow. I see my dark moments in my mind’s eye, during which you support me. Aid me. Pull me out. You, the shining ray out of thick grey skies. You, the silver lining of my black cloud. I smile again.

Thank goodness for you.

Tonight, I lie here. No, not an insomniac, but afraid if I close my eyes, I will succumb to my teary urge. So I just lie here, looking into dark nothingness. I say your name in my mind and smile, remembering the first time we met. The magic you brought with your presence in my life. Everything that happened in between. I smile. Back to the present night.

Where are you? Gone. So soon? So soon.

Your touch still lingers on my heart. Your mark.

A taint. A scar. A caress.

It could be either. Sometimes I reach out and touch it to feel pain... other times bliss... other times lament. Either way, it’s still there. Not gone like you are...

It could be my fault. My mistake. Or perhaps yours. Doesn’t matter, though. I apologize for my faults, cherish the good times. I haven’t forgotten and I shall never...

Though I have a question to ask.

Why let me hope for something long lasting when you can’t guarantee? Why let me hope for you, my friends? Why let me hope you’ll stand by me?? Why let me hope I shall no longer be a loner??

Why let me hope a hopeless hope???

Dreams...

At times of sadness,
And times of sorrow,
What keeps me alive is the happiness,
Of the dreams that are far from hollow,
The immunity from depression that keeps my heart upbeat,
Are these dreams that keep my blood in heat.

What are these dreams,
That swim in front of my eyes?
What are these dreams,
That helps me and never tires?
What are these dreams,
That provoke in me – hope’s fires?
If you knew true,
I know you would dream too.

These are the dreams,
Of my future beautiful,
That were and are to be beams,
Erected on the road of my life successful,
To push me off the pitiful floor,
And, through happiness, let my life soar.

I dream of a future bright,
Books of achievement too,
In the luminous light,
Of my dear parents’ love so,
Dream to let my life succeed,
So that the dreams are no longer a façade…

~ another original, all rights reserved again ~

Illusions

Indulging myself in the euphoria of my drugs, I was. It wafts towards me, its fingers gently playing in my ears. My heart lurches, as one would when one is standing on a bus and it drives off. And as such, my heart is thrown against the floor of my soul. Immediately, my eyes are drawn towards the scene of music. Nostalgia engulfs me, drowning me in its tender embrace. Though it was just a month ago, it seems so long ago, and I am not the same person anymore. My heart keeps to the rhythm of the song, I see those days relived in my memory. I want to be the girl I was then. Yet I don’t.

Oh! I don’t know!!

Bliss? Yes, it was. But only some moments.

Is bliss ever real? Can anyone be perfectly blissful? Or is it just an illusion that we create so we can survive in this world? Oh, how selfish I am being.

There are those who are far less blessed than I could ever even imagine.

But that’s us humans, isn’t it? Selfish.

Is it too much to ask for simple happiness, though?

Yes, I have my basic necessities. A family and their love. Yet...yet... sometimes I feel so lonely I think it’s going to drive me insane.

My past is a pathway of hideous mistakes. Mistakes that will always stay with me. Mistakes that haunt me. That destroyed me. And destroys me still. I am rebuilding myself. Yes, I still dream. And yes, maybe they are impossible illusions once more. Illusions that will crash on me again. Till then, though, I will survive.

My pain is mine alone.

All those who need me, I shall be here. Even in my darkest hours, you will have my comfort. As you always have had... I’ll build another illusive dream yet again, and go on... until it crashes on me. Again.

Maybe it will eradicate me one day.

Who knows...? But till then I shall dream... unending dreams...

Don’t try to stop me, please!

Because I will dream... even when it hurts... I will dream... like the dreamer I have always been...

The Way I Cry...

My soul,
Its bleeding,
My heart – it’s not whole,
Wish to numb my feeling,
Throw myself onto bed; emotion darts,
That’s when it starts…

Water of the salty stream,
Born from deep within my soul,
So easily shed they seem,
Yet the toll destroys me whole,
Those are the times I feel myself drown in troubled times.

The moment now,
Right here,
This place somehow,
Longing my pieces to adhere,
Oh mend! Mend me from this!
What it is? Pain, pain is this!

No matter, no matter,
My guilt or fault another,
Whatever problem, conflict – no matter,
Wish to be in a world some other,
Wish someone would take away,
Wash it away with words pure as rain.

I let my eyelids fall,
Let the stream take over,
Drown in this? …oh...but…
What I wish makes my spirit sink even lower,
My savior, where are you?
Rescue me! Rescue me! Please, please do!

I long for a voice,
Inquiring my soul’s sorrow,
Touch my ears, o’ soothing voice,
Yet all I hear is emptiness hollow,
Tears yet more, hurt and angry, gush down,
My soul does scream and frown.

I long again for,
A hand to wipe my tears,
That never comes, nor,
The warmth of an embrace to destroy my fears,
My savior dear!
Rescue me! Rescue me here!

Time ticks away,
I lift myself up,
Dab the tears away,
Try to cheer myself up,
Try to bury the hopes,
Of my dream savior that never comes...

~ an original, of course, all rights reserved ^_^ ~

Addicted

I am an addict. They say people take drugs to take leave of reality and hence experience a better euphoria than reality can ever present you with. So yes, I am an addict. To a several number of drugs.

Books. My primary drug. I am ardent reader. A fiction addict, if you will. They give me such comfort. Because I know that no matter how bad the events, how bad the consequences, how hurtful things become, how much pain endured by the characters, things will always turn out okay. Even if far from perfect. Why are books, no matter how modern, so fairy tale-ish? Because if they weren’t then they wouldn’t be worth the effort. Because people don’t want to read about reality when they already have quite enough of it. And for that simple reason I, too, am an addict to books. With books, it’s so easy to feel what the characters feel. Sorrow when they feel it, knowing somewhere along the way there’s a turning point where happiness will inevitably intervene. Knowing no matter how imperfect things are, characters will, in the end, find perfect bliss. It is such a secure net around me. The only regret is that it’s always so temporary. When every book ends I madly rush towards the other. If I don’t I do suffer withdrawals. And those are unbearable.

In the same way I am addicted to writing. When I can’t have a book, I rush towards pen and paper, and let the ink run across it. I write my feelings, but it’s still an escape from reality because I write with the conviction that I’m pouring it out to someone who can magically fix everything. Yes, for the famous saviour my unconscious mind keeps screaming for...

And so there I am staring at the dark blank screen; my soul is in the eye of a tornado. I want to forget what is happening inside of me. And so, I let my fingers run... and the white letters appear. Losing myself. Forgetting reality. Forgetting the tornado that rages my soul tearing it to pieces. And suddenly I am at the very last full stop. It is the wee hours of night. I want to sleep. I am no insomniac. Yet I know if I stop and close my eyes, the tornado will have the better of me. Sleep touches my eyes and draws me towards the horrible scene. I give in and let my eyelids fall shut.

I hear my unconscious self scream. A scream of terror. A scream of anguish. My insides are torn beyond repair. I’m bleeding. I jump up. Searching for medicine. Drugs. My dearest drugs! Yet there are none around. I’d exhausted my supply for the day. I hear myself scream in my head again. Frantically I search for the cures. None. I can feel the waves of withdrawal starting to set upon me. I want to fight them but I’m too weak. Losing blood. I need a comfort. Please. My imploration silently travels into the empty air and disappears. No one knows I am hurting. No one sees. No one hears. I am quite alone. I hear the last anguished scream for a relief from the pain as my vision blurs out. Water gushes out of my eyes and I sob silently, painfully...until I lose consciousness. Then in the morning I shall wake up again, reaching for my drugs...

Magic Tunes

Songwriters, singers and authors; how can I ever live without the comfort of their fantasy worlds? Of their inspirations. Oh yes, I said inspirations. This may sound so incredibly corny, but it’s pretty much the truth. Music and books are my escape. Or should I say my saviours?

There’s the song playing now in my ears; it’s the song I’ve been pining for. I don’t choose a song I would like to listen to anymore. My soul just chooses it for me nowadays. I start humming tunes just out of the blue. Not common tunes that I usually listen to, which often happens, but just random songs. And they so match my mood that it amazes me and somehow I have pangs for them like hunger. Once I hear them I have a satisfying comfort that is so hard to explain. It’s a healing for my soul in a way. Maybe it’s my unconscious mind’s way of paving my path to move on in life. Perhaps. Perhaps. The songs are from my past, that I know. And although they had never held much significance in my eyes then, I start to see them in a new light... I feel the music in my heart of hearts and it’s like something meaningful awakens in me. Oh yea, soppy, clichéd; makes you sick; but let me warn you – it sure isn’t no drama soap.

One sunny morning early this spring, I woke up to find this song in my head just out of nowhere. I was pretty sure I had not heard it recently and the most frustrating bit was that I only knew three verses of it! I had a knack that the lyrics spoke of being stuck in between or some such and the three verses that kept singing themselves to tune in my head were “...all I need is time...a moment that is mine...while I am in between...”. Three days on and it still wouldn’t get the hell out of my head! Good grief! So finally defeated, I log in on my music site of sorts and type in the first verse and the singer who I thought must have sung it. And sure enough there it was and would you believe how related to me these lyrics were? The song triggered something in me... it was true, I needed time, a moment that was only mine, while I was still in between and not at the end or the beginning; to figure out who I am, who I want to be...

AND the other day, just when I was feeling blue, lonely and lost with the wind howling cruelly cold around me this tune whizzed into my head... do be obliged and guess?

Strike one!! You’re right!

“...it’s a damn cold night...”

Hard to believe? Believe it.

It’s like that now. I’ve been trying to shut off my ‘times of yore’ from my mind for the past couple of days. Trying with a will of iron...but trying and failing I guess, because I gave in to this. “...and she’s buying a stairway to heaven...” It was song I used to play repeatedly during a turning point of my life (though I had no idea at the time). I’ve been humming the tune for a while now and just moments ago gave in to temptation. There is a sweet comfort in hearing the song...so long as I fight the nostalgia. But the urge for it is increasing and it keeps steadily ascending.

I’m in the world of the song. The music is the breeze of this unique world. The words are its character. And it’s just me and the singer’s voice...

I’m vulnerable.

Am I giving in to nostalgia? It seems I am. Yea, so I am.

I allow myself to indulge in the sickening sweet longing of the past...just for a few seconds and my emotions are already in turmoil.

Pull away while you can...

I can’t.

But then I can, because I’ve grown; grown through time. I know I can’t change the past. So I plunge once again into the music that is my comfort, my companion, my saviour...