Sunday, July 31, 2016

captured

so say this is how the Sunday evening begins

pitter-pattered went the rain

I love how ventilated this old house is

we breathed together



perhaps you are nothing more than a canvas

for me to paint my imagination of romance

all that I've collected and subscribed


yet you're still just

a canvas

to my single-sided fondness




all I did was

kneading my reasons into logic

albeit
nobody needed to care

this space is captured for me and you

and your black dogs




I tried breathing in the same rhythm as you did

- self explanatory

and your white strands out growing your emotional intelligence

makes me wonder how this came into place

as I watch you sleep

soundlessly





Happy birthday


Wednesday, July 6, 2016

soft spoken

I have forgotten how to live

I confess

how it is to pour a little sun on the skin

how it is to fold clothes hung dry

how do I clear my dead skin cells from the tiles

next to my bed

how do I function with a living space

                   I call home



my standards of comfort

responsibility

are to be instilled by the influence of the sorts       of which

who tells you

to shut the cover of detergent tight after you finish

who tells you to pick up trash that you have created

how does logic function within me

what draws a line of your discipline, claimed sense of righteousness

and a vision that I've blurred



I see circles

I spin






Sunday, June 26, 2016

body talk

my shoulders were bare

sharing the space

mirrors on the ceiling

music in my ears

my sense of trust

cupped in your hands

gently used





I sat down

straight, like to measure

the transparent plastic chair

angles of my head, tweaked

so you can work on it


the door to my core was opened

I've never heard of the action of vulnerability 


being practised


but you were there between the lines

to witness

my zones of different planes

whilst working on me

just so you can work on it



my weakness exposed

touch me

she said once


touch me

she said again

a musk built in the air

feels like I want to be devoured

somewhere, somehow

pulses sent

from the tips of your fingers

your raw frustrations

your offbeat gestures

my humming of tunes

my eyes, with your reflection




she tingled

begged to be touched

while you stood there

gazing, quietly

aroused






Monday, June 20, 2016

sweetness

The sky was speaking of a calm language

and so the heart breathe steadily

it was warm and friendly

with a pulse beating



I couldn't resist




But when I soak into that quirky space of a convenient store,

labour clinic and a martial arts gym

that space synced without delay



the smell of sweet sweat

souls to be released and reclaimed

stood out




45 degrees punches

and twists of the knees

I am thus reminded that my body speaks a similar language with my being

after so many years

catching up



and those eyes

that willingness to surrender

I wonder what called upon








that  smell of sweet sweat

souls to be released

and reclaimed

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

unrequited

that moment driving back home

the moment of silence for an unrequited love



the heart sang to a tune about loneliness

thy shan't compare

love birds of the worldly shouldn't matter

but you are the one I had feelings for

it resonated




why should I feel for myself




without persistence,

it could have been long gone



you didn't save yourself

you created new dimensions to be tangled in




as much as the created space was genuine

I knew you outside from that ideal

so when we weren't within

I wept, held a pity party

and then, see you in the space of ideal





down goes it

banished

the unrequited love

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

after tune

anticipation filled the vision

whilst sense got numb 




until I realize that I have been chased

by the ray 

and dawn showed up




until sunrise




no matter what you do

       making love

or dancing through the night

she's going to stay




until sunrise






never knew this world exist

until you came in suh-weet




until sunrise





warm cocoa with a towel wiped wet

when morning chirps of the birds greet you





until sunrise





I can't get enough of you




Wednesday, March 2, 2016

verge

perhaps 

before giving up

the last thought that would ever linger 

in space is




not being able to reach out

to touch