My Crooked Soul

When I put you under my tongue,

don't forget to hold

a mouthful of me

in your prayer.

When I run my finger

along your finely crafted nose,

don't forget to open your eyes

for little moments like these.

When I tell you home is when I

place my heart next to yours,

don't forget to wrap me in your arms,

pressing your chest hard against mine.

When I stare at you

like I have found an angel,

don't forget that I am only human,

I can only give as much as I can bear.

You - Steezefield

Do Not Resuscitate

I dreamed that you were in love with me but you got your feelings hurt very badly because I was never there. You told me I was always looking for safe zones and would never bring myself to fall for you because you didn't really perfectly fit the qualities of a committed boyfriend. Then I told you I was cold and you gave me your jacket but it was snowing and we were waiting for the cab we called and it took us so long in the cold, you were trembling in the snow and I said you should have your jacket back but you insisted on me keeping it, "I really don't understand why I would even give you my jacket to be honest." It sounded so familiar that I was about to be awaken from my dream to reality but I didn't want to lose you, I kept chanting to myself in my dream, "do not resuscitate". You wrapped your right arm around me and patted lightly on my head, just like what you'd always do when it was drizzling in Summer, so that the flakes only landed on the back of your palm. "What exactly does a shelter mean to you?" You asked me. "It's a feeling I'd never have for anyone else," I said, "and it's a feeling I have for you that would never change." You didn't say anything but the disappointment in your eyes gave you away. I tried to ignore the twirl in my heart but it wouldn't go away. I woke up to the sound of my Mom closing my bedroom door loudly, and I woke up to several messages you left me when I was asleep last night, "hey wuu2? // i stopped seeing the girl i told u abt // we just didnt click lol // nvm // night // *sends screenie of a song* listen to this".

Weird dream.

Everest

I had thought that the view
Would be breath-taking up there
When it only took my breath away
As the altitude took over
The oxygen in my lungs
When I was reaching
For the stardusts above my head.

How foolish it was for me
To long for standing
On top of the world thinking
It meant conquering your heart
When the only thing I wish for now
Is to be right next to you
Holding your hand.

Shelter

He said he loved rainy days in Hong Kong more than in any other places.

The sound of the pouring rain, like waterfall, seeped through the silence between one song after another. It weathered the cracks between moments we didn't speak into something as smooth as boulders that had been in the running river for decades.

We were smoking at the terrace of the building he was living in and it started raining. The shelter was built so high above, it couldn't have prevented the rain from splashing inside. He picked up our stuff and turned to look at me, "are you ready?" I was confused but I nodded yes.

He wrapped one arm around me and pressed my head against his chest, so it only rained on him. We ran the fastest we could to get to the driest spot at the terrace and waited until it stopped raining. Despite the effort, I had my hair and half my shoulder wet but oh, he was soaked in rain water. We laughed like children jumping puddles for fun. "Well at least you tried," I teased.

Only after ten minutes, the rain got heavier. I sneezed after a strong breeze had hit against me and blew out the fire inside. "Come closer," he said. I walked to his side and he held me very tightly as if it would light up the fire in me again.

We got back to his place when it had stopped raining. That night, he asked what he was to me. "I guess you're my shelter."

Phantom Limb

I cannot run from the pain // even when I have dug it out of my chest // to watch it pump on the floor // to the beat of each moment // the soundtrack of our summer sounds like.

Northern Sky

If we ran away, we would run to the far North of the world.

You would be an iceberg ready to collapse in an avalanche; you would be the lonely little feet dangling from the ski lift; you would be a wooden house stood hunched back in the cold.

I would be the fireworks that sound like every beat of your heart chanting to your own memories; I would be the tiny spark of fire that strangers forget to put out when they visit; I would be the moon high up in the sky arching my back to look at you standing alone in the snow arching yours.

This is not a love poem. This is a poem about love.

Tiles

The kitchen tiles under my feet - the same ice cold marbles we danced on. It is 2013 all over again, back when you were my hobby, my hurricane, my silence, my strength; but why do I get weak in my knees when I think of you?

The fire roars loudly on the stove. If I were cooking my heart, I hope the flame would be fierce enough to burn down the fences built around it, I hope the flame would be strong enough to burn the bridges, our memories, our pain, our hurtful words, our mistakes.

The kitchen tiles under my feet - the same temperature inside your chest I had loved, when ice meets fire, you’ll see, you’ll see how it melts until all it has left are the unsaid things that we fought hard to say. When it melts, you’ll see. “Baby, it was real and we were the best.”