growing apart

so this one just came out of thin air today. It took me by surprise because I didn't even think of the words as I wrote them and this is what it turned out to be. It's freaking me out a little.:


Oh, if you saw the joy of a recent purchase
that lit up the features she rested.
If only they also glowed for the verses,
desolately he'd written but vested

With charms and allusions too cryptic,
in words his being was invested.
Time's too precious to decipher a lyric
singled out, still his mind's congested

With charms and allusions that adorn
her body, physical to emphasize.
Admiration turned to gradual scorn
for never the other to recognize.

They've grown too apart to comply.
For she loves her shoes and he, the sky.

I've had this one for well over a year now whoops

I'm noticing some unintentional rhyming in this one.


I can't throw flowers away. Leaves turn crusty and colours go dusty; scents fade but I still can't throw them away. They sit on my dresser and lurk on the window sill and they'll sit there until my mum secretly sneaks them into the trash.

I think she's forgotten that she was the one who'd pluck me jasmines on cold, damp October mornings when I, a then snot-nosed, whimpering four foot tall creature, clung to her legs and begged her to let me stay home.

The tiny white petals would end up on the Kindergarten teacher's desk and when I'd reluctantly return the next day with another flower in my little fist, the dead remains from the previous day would still be sitting there in a wilted state, awaiting their replacement.

Maybe that's the origin then, of this strange affinity for flowers. It's not so much a fondness as it is a calming familiarity.

For a long time they served as 5-petaled, doodled additions to the end of my name in primary school notebooks, a signature of sorts, until I decided somewhere around 5th grade,in my haste, that I was too much of a grown up to continue the tradition.

 a few months old

Now I just watch them die, but they somehow become more beautiful as time goes by.
Kind of like the past.

Staring at... Not-strangers?

If you sit really very still, the world seems to revolve around you.

Which, I mean, it technically does. Not that it makes you any more notable because the world revolves around everything and anything and also around nothing at all.

Hey, what do you and your toothbrush have in common? You're both insignificant objects that the world does and does not revolve around. Hur-hur.

But sometimes these somewhat dejecting thoughts render themselves a comforting kind of ambiguity and it's nice to give some credit to what we perceive as ordinary.

We're sat across from each other.

#rebellious

Bright flowers, names I forget,
bloom to replace winters of regret,
call for attention in a place of neglect;
live off the care of those who used to reject.

But those hands have since been replaced
by caresses on petals, misplaced.
The soil has since been displaced
by roots shaken from an unexpected turn.

When you realize there's little at stake,
rules are easy to break.