Monday, May 3, 2010


As I stood there at my usual spot, sustaining my usual posture, I caught a whiff of your perfume - or rather, the perfume you used.

The sweet, sweet scent of fruits and herbs that I can summon in my mind anytime, and so real, that I thought I could smell it whenever I want. The scent that I couldn't describe in words (my olfactory is not as trained), the scent that belonged to the memories that contained you and me and no one else.

I did not miss you, at least not as much. That sometimes I thought of you, this I cannot deny, because I have nothing or no-one to think of.

And when the molecules of the sweet perfume passed my nose, I sniffed into my lungs greedily like a hungry wolf engulfing its prey, until I thought my lungs couldn't contain any more air (and you).

Thursday, February 25, 2010


Some have looked at me the way you are looking at me right now. They either give me the jitters, or I barely notice them.

That gaze, it never fails to make me feel uncomfortable.

But yours, only you and your eyes, have the magic to make the butterflies flap their wings once again, and send them flying almost to heaven.

Can you see them in my eyes, my dear? Or is it hers that you see now?

And all I could do is just blurt out silly things that come up in my mind like a little girl.

I do not want you to see the butterflies, simply because I am unsure of what is going on right now. It had been too long; these butterflies have been standing still for too long a time, and they have forgotten what is up and what is down; what is left and what is right.

I do not know whether what I feel now is what I am supposed to feel. Moreover, I do not know about you.

You are not entirely an enigma, but I do not understand you deep enough to be able to pinpoint exactly your mind and heart’s whereabouts.

Are you thinking of her when you look at me that way? Do you always want to call out her name when you see me? Does my hair remind you of her?

Whose face forms inside your mind now, darling?

I have no rights whatsoever to question you. I can only sit down behind my desk, my diary open to today’s date, and twirl an imaginary rose of infinite petals.

It’s me, it’s not me; it’s me, it’s not me…

These butterflies, they are dangerous.

I am sorry. Before I can be sure that every of these are not just a beautiful mirage, I have to protect myself from the cliff, from you, from myself.

You have wonderful lips, my dear, but I can’t place my trust on them.

3/1/09 Sat

Morning Moon

It was in the early morning when I saw the full moon hanging quietly up above the clear, colour-washed purple sky dotted with clouds.

It reminded me of your beautiful brown eyes.

I was stunned by its beauty – yours, and I could not help but to imagine your gentle, loving gaze lingering on me. A slow surge of warmth spreaded in my body, what everyone calls contentment, happiness.

Something shiny at the display of the jewellery store caught my eye, and I stopped to look at it. Despite the fact that you were still fast asleep at this time of the day I still dialed the familiar number of ours. I calculated my budget quickly in my mind within two dial tones.

You picked up and groggily said hello. I could see you yawning and scrunching up your strawberry nose, your hair messed up like a lion’s mane.

“Good morning, dear. I love you.”

It was not the first time I did this, but I still could hear your smiling like it was the most wonderful thing that had happened to you.

I smiled, too, and felt the sunshine of your smile on me.

No; it was the moonlight. I was showering in your kind love that never fails to take my breath away.

13/1/09 Tues


The last of the light is switched off. The air is still. The clock still ticks away every second.

Tick, tock.

How long have you been silenced?

You have been abandoned by your human, and all you can do is stand and wait.

(Like a fool.)

You long for your voice to be heard, yet you cannot do it by yourself.

(I am nothing without you, my love.)

You feel rotten, rotten like an apple infected by greedy worms.

The dust that is lightly covering your body has been your faithful blanket during the cold, rainy nights and warm, sunny afternoons, keeping you warm on the outside but unable to chase away the dreary winter on the inside.

“You still there, Dust?”


And you sigh.

You wait patiently for your human’s gentle, seductive touch on the most beautiful part of your body, but it only remains as a strong, unfulfilled desire.

You often think of the recent past, where your human would touch you everyday; and the slender fingers will move sometimes swiftly, sometimes slowly caressing; at times strong, other times soft like feather falling from the sky, for hours.

You were always craving for your human; your human was always hungry for you.

Both your and your human’s desires were insatiable, like dark bottomless pits…

(Is it a sin to have overflowing desire?)

Falling, deeply.


The first ray of dusk lands on you.

“You still there, Dust?”


And you sigh.

22/12/08 Tues


There she is, walking, but not with me.

She looks as radiant as ever. She is always so calm when she is not talking, but when her face lights up, animates, by that charming smile, she beats the sun hands down.

And it is that lucky bastard cycling beside her who is getting those smiles and attention from her.



Here she is, walking, right beside me.

I become self-conscious. Can she hear my heart pacing?

The moment I see her, I feel like bringing her into my arms and hug her tightly, thinking, this is the last I will let you go. Because I have never seen her for ages, it's killing me; because I miss her so badly, it's killing me; because my heart and soul are aching for her, it's killing me.

I don't want to just tell her about my friend's girlfriend, or about school, or about music; nor do I want to just walk beside her like a friend.

But my heart's content got stuck at the base of my throat, and my limbs do not feel like mine, and these are all I can do.



As he tells me about his friend's girlfriend and his school and music, I listen intently and respond appropriately. But when he pauses, even for a second, my heart and mind fly off to somewhere else far from here.

They fly to where you are.

Can you feel them?

Tell me, my dear: did you mean every single word that you utter to me last night?

I've drowned in the illusions and false hopes you (and I) once gave to me, and it was bitter. And so I took another step backwards from what everyone calls "happiness".

I don't have the courage to march forward.


I look up from my work, stretch, and out to the window.

Her beautiful face appears, and I smile.

I hope she is considering. Lord, give me courage to face whatever she will do next. Amen.

I sneeze, and there is a buzz in my heart... Hey, girl, are you thinking of me too?

Wednesday, March 18, 2009


What is it that you have that mesmerises me like the burst of stars? I could get prettier, younger girls anytime, anywhere I want, but it is always you, my dear, who catches my breath when you look at me with the beautiful brown eyes of yours.

I ask you to take my heart, and in return I get sleepless nights filled with you.

Are you treasuring my most important organ, or did you misplace it somewhere and forgotten about it?

I ask for yours, but you are playing catch with me. You run so swiftly, I thought you will fly away like a dove. But all you do is run in circles around me.

You leave me giddy.

Stop running from me, I am right here, beside you. My arms are open wide, wide enough to contain the world, the universe...

And the Universe, that is you.


Dear Jo,

Hi, how have you been lately? I am fine, thank you very much! (I'll just assume you asked.)

You do not seem as enthusiastic about your college, or was it because we did not have the chance to talk?

Ah, well.

Oh, yeah, school's been fun. (Again, I assume you asked.) Friends, well, I'm not sure whether I have any yet - I seem to get fussier day by day - but yes, I have been laughing and smiling.

I still compare.

And sometimes, I just think of what had happened for the last two years.

Time flies, ain't it? It flies so fast that we were unable to catch up with it. We might not be soaked in memories, but we are still dripping in them.

Yes. I still miss the good ole' times we (used to) have.

There are many, many special, ordinary things that have happened to me, and some are related to your - our - favourite subject.

Ah, boys!

Eh, no, I ain't showing off, I'm just self-indulgent, haha.

Of course, I do not tell you about them, mainly because I do not remember them at the time of our conversations. (No, my dear Jo; I do not have a crush, nor are they cute, exterior-wise.)

For so many times, I wish to bring you and Waning along to my school. We'll sit at the third row, not paying attention to the teachers as we chat, laugh, sing, joke the day away, and then take the LRT to KLCC and be crazy.

Oh, how I miss our insanity, our naïveté, us.

I no longer feel depressed. I am happy, I think. I hope you are, too, and that you do not miss us the way I do.

Happy belated eighteenth.



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