the agony of pleasure : wasting words on lower cases and capitals

mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix

When summer ends, do not be sad. I will be leaving in thirty days, but I promise I will write. I will write to you, the metal tip of my pen betraying the depth of my emotions as it carves into pastel colored paper. I will replay the words in my head, mentally hitting backspace until each sentence deserves to be immortalized with ink. I will write to you the words I cannot say to your face.  Envelopes will be stuffed with kisses and love and a soft prayer for you to be safe. Such lofty wishes; would the fragile paper hold? It doesn’t matter, for I will write to you.

When summer ends, our long distance love begins again. 

shut your eyes

darling, did you hear about the solar flare?
but frankly (who is frank anyway?)
the world can burn for all i care
i just want to melt with you
we can put on amy winehouse
and dim the lights too
maybe share a cigar and a scotch
of course i’d cough from every sear of
burned tobacco to my esophagus
i’m not a smoker, you see
and you would laugh and say that
there’s no finer day than today to start
i call it dying with a touch of class
sometimes i think that i can die
from just one touch from you
if that’s the case then darling,
i’ve died a thousand deaths before this
from fingers brushed across mine 
and hips bumped against mine.
you’re whispering into the shell of my ear now
“is this the end of the world like they said?”
i can’t help but to think that if it was,
this could be the sweetest death.

heavenly. 

lovedrunk

you were a little
drunk and a little giggly
and i was in love. 

trust issues

i am tired but i cannot sleep
the seeds of doubt have been planted in my stomach
they bloom and curl around my rib cage
my vertebrae is not strong enough for this
apparent lack of trust. 

my saving grace

Sometimes in the dead of the night, the stillness of the air threatens to swallow me whole. I feel terrified of things which I should not be. I lie in the dark, holding on to the woman who says she loves me and I’m dropping doubts with every breath I take. I finally know what I am afraid of- the lie of happily-ever-afters, and the silence after expectations fall through.

sleeping with ghosts

tonight i will fall asleep with the ghost of you.
love, you have been gone for more than a year now
sometimes i still resent the angels that led you in
i like to think that you visit me on cold nights like this 
where your scent falls around me like a blanket
and the echoes of your laughter vibrates this stale air
that now moves only with every plume of exhaled smoke
that escapes from my chapped lips with a sigh
i remember, darling, how you said (also with a sigh)
my cigarettes would be the death of me but
truth is, love, your death was the death of me
but i tell myself that the morning light
will make everything perfect again
because tonight i will fall asleep with the ghost of you. 

WOOOOOOOO

You jelly? I might just have found the most perfect assam laksa in the world.

Those egg rolls look perfect…

They are a type of spring rolls called “popiah”. At least, that’s what we call them on this side of the world. They’re fantastic.