Soft pastels and fancy wallpapers
Of a room for two touched by Western architecture
With the Malaysian sunrise and sunset peeking into its windows
The floor is wooden and shiny
The sound of the heels of my loafers seem to mimic the sound of my cardiac muscle
I see your desk
Your stuff, your laptop which you always leave with the web cam open
Your grandmother's works that you keep in a treasure box
And Marie's ancient clothes iron that you promised to replace
And then I see your bed
Not small, but not quite big either
The sheets are still the same since I last visited
But it's not crumpled anymore
The creases on the sheets are no longer there to tell me which side of the bed you slept
I turn around and face the opposite side
What a pretty good view that you have here, Child
Then I sit on your bed
I look around once more
Left to right, top to bottom and front to back
Snippets of the people you love are near your bedside
And then I gave in to the invitation of the bed
I climb in and the weight of me creates a creaking sound
But louder is my heart and my tears when I see myself in the ceiling
It is a photo of me
And I see you as I try to reach it
Child, you are not of my blood
But you will always be one of the reason why my heart still beats
Even if you have lost your breath
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Saturday, September 24, 2016
The wonder
Is in the way I feel
Almost complete
When I wake up in the morning
When I turn the faucets on and nobody else is there to hear the sound of cold water
springing out from the tubes
When I pick out what to wear and nobody else is there to see the pile of unfolded clothes
because i just can't seem to choose
When I put all my stuff inside my bag and nobody else is there to see all the trinkets that add weight to my bag on my scoliotic back
When I silently, but not so, try to shut the door so I won't disturb you
When I try to walk as fast as I can so that I won't get late
When I try to concentrate on Your word and try not to fall asleep
When I could feel myself almost breaking down whenever I see families and people huddled together, with companions
When I could feel myself trying to hold back the tears because I left my handkerchief in the room
When, after that, I would have to choose a place to break my fast on my own and nobody is there to argue with me where to eat
When I look for a table for two, when in reality, I'm just looking for a small table for myself and for the cheap food that I am about to eat
And when I open my notes, there goes my heart, on a table that reminds me of my singularity
I wonder why I still feel complete.
Is in the way I feel
Almost complete
When I wake up in the morning
When I turn the faucets on and nobody else is there to hear the sound of cold water
springing out from the tubes
When I pick out what to wear and nobody else is there to see the pile of unfolded clothes
because i just can't seem to choose
When I put all my stuff inside my bag and nobody else is there to see all the trinkets that add weight to my bag on my scoliotic back
When I silently, but not so, try to shut the door so I won't disturb you
When I try to walk as fast as I can so that I won't get late
When I try to concentrate on Your word and try not to fall asleep
When I could feel myself almost breaking down whenever I see families and people huddled together, with companions
When I could feel myself trying to hold back the tears because I left my handkerchief in the room
When, after that, I would have to choose a place to break my fast on my own and nobody is there to argue with me where to eat
When I look for a table for two, when in reality, I'm just looking for a small table for myself and for the cheap food that I am about to eat
And when I open my notes, there goes my heart, on a table that reminds me of my singularity
I wonder why I still feel complete.
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Monday, September 12, 2016
what is this
i always have a knack for love teams
you know.
the ones they pair-up together to form this super duper cheesy but totally unforgettable duo
in tv, in movies, heck, even online media
oh yeah and also like ships.
sometimes why do i feel like i have a say in those things?
i mean sometimes i really have the urge to go vocal
about why E. clearly has no chemistry with J.
(this one’s totally unbiased - i mean i even checked YouTube comments and hey there were a lot of
people who think so too!
or, yeah, maybe i’m just a fan of M. and J. together. i don’t know.)
or why J. and H. will be my one true pair
in an oh-my-gosh-Ann-why-are-you-even-watching-that-kind of drama
in Korean
and the 3rd episode hasn’t even aired yet!
this is not a love letter
Dear M.
it’s funny how your initials could mean a lot of things - and people, too.
first, it’s the first letter of my father’s name.
second, it’s the first letter of the name i call the person who loves me the most - Mom.
and for all the right and wrong reasons - it’s also the first letter of the pronoun i always blurt out whenever people take my stuff away. i shout, “That’s mine!”
i also find it really samok when i realized your initials are MM
dude, that is so unfair. M&M’s are like my childhood.
and yet…I met you in my childhood.
only in my childhood.
unless the universe allows us to meet once more, thereby adding into the equation all the “fake” meetings conjured in deleted messages (i don’t know about you but at least i did), and trailing conversations, and pahabol comments that you sometimes make on the photos i aesthetically choose to include in my social media feed.
unless the world around us will form into one super-continent and remove all the distances or rather the wide-spaces, the ones devoid of you and i
unless the oceans, the nautical miles, and the time-zones (i used to ask you how many hours you are ahead… four? maybe five?) that exist between us will all crumble and disappear — bidding goodbye to all the hurried hellos and goodbyes because one is already sleeping while the other just got home
unless you tell me the truth and stick to your promises while i am held captive by snide comments of you wanting to tour our motherland together (i never really understood the laughing emoji at the end of your invitation)
then maybe i would meet you again.
then maybe i don’t have to buy M&M’s just to give it to my siblings in the end because its letters play a joke on me
then maybe i don’t have to skip Makonnen’s songs because every time i hear his voice it reminds me of you dancing freestyle (you insist it’s not choreographed) which would ultimately take me back to moments wherein you would ask help just to find the right shot for her
but you know what?
even if i did forget your name or your initials,
even if i would meet you or not, in the future (that’s a pity i know because the universe frowns on me doing these sketchy things)
somewhere along these lines, or somewhere in this reality that i live in
i am surrounded by your name because i remember the struggle in how to call you by your own name (i am used to single-syllables you see)
not because it’s beautiful — your name, i mean
but because your name happens to be that of the Exodus hero’s as well
and how could i not remember that?
it’s funny how your initials could mean a lot of things - and people, too.
first, it’s the first letter of my father’s name.
second, it’s the first letter of the name i call the person who loves me the most - Mom.
and for all the right and wrong reasons - it’s also the first letter of the pronoun i always blurt out whenever people take my stuff away. i shout, “That’s mine!”
i also find it really samok when i realized your initials are MM
dude, that is so unfair. M&M’s are like my childhood.
and yet…I met you in my childhood.
only in my childhood.
unless the universe allows us to meet once more, thereby adding into the equation all the “fake” meetings conjured in deleted messages (i don’t know about you but at least i did), and trailing conversations, and pahabol comments that you sometimes make on the photos i aesthetically choose to include in my social media feed.
unless the world around us will form into one super-continent and remove all the distances or rather the wide-spaces, the ones devoid of you and i
unless the oceans, the nautical miles, and the time-zones (i used to ask you how many hours you are ahead… four? maybe five?) that exist between us will all crumble and disappear — bidding goodbye to all the hurried hellos and goodbyes because one is already sleeping while the other just got home
unless you tell me the truth and stick to your promises while i am held captive by snide comments of you wanting to tour our motherland together (i never really understood the laughing emoji at the end of your invitation)
then maybe i would meet you again.
then maybe i don’t have to buy M&M’s just to give it to my siblings in the end because its letters play a joke on me
then maybe i don’t have to skip Makonnen’s songs because every time i hear his voice it reminds me of you dancing freestyle (you insist it’s not choreographed) which would ultimately take me back to moments wherein you would ask help just to find the right shot for her
but you know what?
even if i did forget your name or your initials,
even if i would meet you or not, in the future (that’s a pity i know because the universe frowns on me doing these sketchy things)
somewhere along these lines, or somewhere in this reality that i live in
i am surrounded by your name because i remember the struggle in how to call you by your own name (i am used to single-syllables you see)
not because it’s beautiful — your name, i mean
but because your name happens to be that of the Exodus hero’s as well
and how could i not remember that?
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