Monday, November 7, 2011

Green-Eyed Monster

She lived with a perfectionist, who worked her days off from morning to night.  She was a working bee which never failed the queen.  Yet, they were known for the works, works which were done by only one bee.  She nested late as a company, not for the honey.  Who would have known, but herself.  None perceived.

Perfectionists were lauded for their works.  And, their best friends, they would not dumb it.  Thus, they praised, she extolled; however, imperfectionist never did it right.  Her lavish praises irritated others.  In return, she received a shut-up look.       

She did not idolize her works; strength could not find to uphold such burdens.  But, wouldn't you want a high achiever?  The monster warred within her.  Hate not, my dear, hate not.  

Dishonest intentions, she did not, but she just wanted to be happy for the person who deserved the credits.  She wanted to be happy for her.  She deserved the credits.    

Sunday, November 6, 2011

A Faint Blind Date

If you were real, I wished that we met before we went out on a blind date.  She read herself like a book; she knew what she would do.  The date, she would spoil.  There would be no happy endings.  So, let it be without me knowing.  Unconscious.  Period. 

You sound so real to my ears; she found him haunt her dreams.  Though she denied it, she could not escape the fact that he spooked her to life.  

She was no attractive girl, yet she could not accept no unattractive man.  Love does not find its grounds on such superficial reasoning.  No, no; she scribbled a list of words to sum her My Dream Guy.  Such man did not exist, she realized.     

I agree to live old, thus intimidated her not.  But, if you were real, her life would be written with a different story.   

Saturday, November 5, 2011

The Old Book

She flipped through the torn pages, each written with promises.  The old book, which she used to read, was now abandoned, on the shelf, untouched, buried under the dust.  Supposedly the stories made a flashback.  Instead, the stories were dead.  
My soul is dead.  Open this book, and be my author; let my soul springs forth with life.  My life needs no sparkles nor glitters; it needs a story.  You are the author, who wrote this story from once upon a time.  Be that author who ends it the way it was meant to be.  Me and my big mouth shall speak no other stories but yours.

She closed the book, and placed it back.  

She needed a miracle.   

Sunday, October 30, 2011

She Laid Down

What's on your mind?  she wondered.  Are you thinking the same way I do?  Tune me in to your hearts.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder.  He would laugh.  Yupe, she disagreed.  Like the whole world agreed, it was never meant to be.  She could not believe she was finally giving in.  So open, for the first time, realizing it was a mistake from the very beginning.  She accepted the fault, and relinquished.  Yet, in her, she wanted to know... the secrets from within him, the secrets from within you.

He found someone, she knew.  And he loved her, she knew; he never failed to remind her.  From the first to the last, she held true to his words.  She wanted so badly to pour out, but obediently withdraw, yes, you love her.  She was his reason of no return.  

She smiled: Let me know when you do.  Still perturbed.

From him, Received.   

The Piano

The sound of piano sang songs to her.  Each note strummed her hearts, gentle as each finger carefully worked through the chords.  Each stroke whispered her warmth.  So peaceful like a lullaby, laid her down on the green, green grass, rocking and rocking her to sleep.  

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Wake Up

"Come, have a seat."

She hated the invite.  

"Come, sit."

"Go on, sit down.  They are friends."

She could not be comforted.  The woman sitting next to her was partly talking, partly boasting, or perhaps partly seducing;  she was confused.  She cursed the man who married her.  If you answered the call, we wouldn't be sitting here with another man.  She would not forgive t-h-a-t man, the man who forfeited his duty as a husband and father.  What is a man he is made of?  

Her anger relentlessly exhausted her.  She swallowed them tear-dry.  
One hour later.  When he finally called, he asked for the car-keys.  

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Tagged Proud

The world was on her shoulders.  No one made a word, no criticisms and no remarks whatsoever.  But, she had all herself to blame.  Mouths were sealed, yet eyes were haunting hungrily for her.  Everyone backed from her - that selfish, arrogant girl!

She squirmed at the thoughts.  

She felt awkward and hated it.  

"Smile, you did your best."  MY BEST - the words challenged her.  "Great performances," said another. Yet, she couldn't be convinced that others agreed.  

She blamed herself again until...

"Don't you think the only person that you talk to is the one sitting in front of you and the one sitting at the back of you?"

"You walk in, you never greet, you never talk to anyone..."    

And, she labelled sombong.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Stopped Running

You set me in on this pasture with Your wonderful creations.  Set me down, set me down, i could never understand.  I've been running all these while, running, and running pointlessly.  You look at me from high above, in a loophole i run to no ends.  You hold back tears, but never stop me.  I keep running.  And, i keep running away.  Still, you never stop me.  

I taunted and cried.  My robes were stained.  I...       

Her feet gave in.  

... have to stop running.  I Love You.

Her Destiny, Her Battle

Loves all around unceasingly pampered her with comfort.  Like a bundle of joy, a pat on the head coupled with gentle remarks never seemed to detach nor single her out from their lives.  Though one by one went on separate ways, they continued to bring her joy.  

If she had a choice, she chose not.  By a destiny clung to her chest, she fought every temptations that came into her ways.  Defeated, and yet, defeated day by day.  Deceived and weak, she was. 
She wiped away in tears. I will be a conqueror one day.

Monday, August 29, 2011

To Be Loved

Discussion changed, from courtship to marriage because everybody found love.  School lives were yesterdays.  She can't make it tonight; she's having a date with her boyfriend.  It was all so natural.  She could only laugh to herself.

She couldn't understand.

Why was it so easy to be head over heels over somebody?

You met, you talked, then you fell in love.  It wasn't complicated at all.  It wasn't complicated, yet the easiest of ways seemed the hardest for her.  

She caught up herself falling and falling for colours so exotic, she would not give up, almost detaching herself from this world which she was familiar with.  But every once in a while, reality came in, challenging her out of her wits.

Where does this lead you?  Inside was desperation and passion at war.  She fought for every impossibilities... for she knew how it felt like to be loved by a Father. 

Yet, life moved on, separating possibilities from the impossibilities.     

Fighting Limelight

What's man without a beer?!  A night without a sip, especially in front of others??  That's just not man enough.  

And, he could elaborate to you on the details.

His rationales were extravagantly the opposites.  Nothing could help him lower his blood pressures, not even those highly-priced tablets from doctors.  Only Guinness did.  He had the scariest record, and he experienced the weirdest miracle.  No one had been as critical as he was.  What had we... even doctors placed me under strict supervision.

What's the fight of the century?  To be man enough to know all?  

The evil stepmother and her mirror were a history. 

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Beautiful World

She looked at the pictures, so full of life and warmth.  How wonderful it is to be in the arms of God!  She thought.  People to whom she was detached from, was springing forth with life.  You bless them... of all the people close to her.  To be blessed in the house of the Lord is to serve the Lord.  And I... she left His house.  

She smiled and sighed, how innocently I once believed.  Be it Wendy in Peter Pan, or Alice in Wonderland, she bold them all.  I would climb the tallest beanstalk to the heaven in the sky... all because she believed.  She smiled and sighed.  Her thoughts drifted off to Wonderland, a world of lifeless fantasies.  

Who am I, Lord?  The black sheep bleated to the silence of the night.  Unheard.  

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Writing His ABCs

He showed his book from afar, hoping to leave.  "I've done mine," he claimed.

The work was only half-done.  She ordered him to complete his notes.  He obediently returned, wrote a line, and claimed that he had a satisfactory portion of the work done.  

The work was still incomplete.  Again, she forbade him to leave.  And so, he returned to his seat.  Writing, yet more anxious.  Most of his friends had left.  

Finally, she decided to walked over to check on him.  She read the chunks of words scribbled by alphabets in his books.  Oh dear, this poor kid was illiterate.  

His friend came over.  Carefully, the thirteen-year-old pulled his hands to cover.