transition

the dream realm is awash with non-color
i am standing on the threshold of almost waking
if i close my eyes, i think i can feel the dream-king
out there, crafting sleepwalking beautiful people

but it gets harder now, i have to strain myself
this tempest of you keeps on whipping at me
i can see shadows flitting between the winds 
is it nothing, or is it you?

cursed

i told the world about him,
bared my half-healed scars
and i dared to leap away and be free

my first fearful and brave step
and i stumbled and fell flat
by your feet

i must have sprung some curse-trap upon myself,
i was besieged by you
all light and shadow and in-between

i scrambled to salvage what little
fierceness for battle i have left 
i tried to trample this awkward dream

i am wary of signs, they can lie,
and sometimes they can be terrifyingly true
and you are filled with them

yet maybe i was born to pray to false gods
to worship icons and images, 
while fervently wishing that you would be kind

i have been fine

i have been fine with this
anticipation of a broken heart
i have it well-scripted, well-directed
a work of art, something to be
shown off, like battle wounds,
proofs of bravery, transforming
each broken heart-piece into
some twisted trophy

yet here you are rewriting
everything, making my backdrops
inappropriate, and my costumes
almost ridiculous, and my well-rehearsed
lines no longer coherent
i am clutched by fear,
what tragic end have you plotted
or is it possible, perhaps,
that the audience will laugh at me?

for m. (an ex)

these are now mine
where you left off

now it’s my turn 
to spin around his planet

i still stumble upon
fragments of you

remains of a supernova

two witches on a midsummer full moon

we carefully laid out the seawater-colored mat
painted with fish, and ourselves like tentative mermaids
trying out our power to lure.
we sprinkled salt, defining our sacred space,
we invoked the elements, trying to sense their echoes
within ourselves, seeking the elusive balance
that will allow us to pull strings in the Universe
without getting tangled up 
and choked by loose ends and dead ends.

incense smoke crawled languidly on our skin
our hands glistened with sacred oils,
anointing our intentions, trying to keep them pure,
pretending that we are open to options.
then we struck the first match and lit the first candle,
our faces shone half-silver, half-gold,
with shadows accentuating the nervous flicker
of our eyes, as we peeked into the damp parchment,
taking a deep breath before releasing the irrevocable spell.

she chanted for a love that refused to leave
and i for a love that is reluctant to come.
we watched the rainbow ring shimmer around the moon,
and took it  for a sign of sorts, being stubborn-hearted, 
we spoke of leaping into voids and our bravery 
for keeping our eyes open as we jumped.
we tried to distill the overwhelming multitude 
of possibilities into a single certainty.
and we make believe that we have the final say.

without striving for perfection

i should learn to stop trying to be perfect
once i had tried to approximate
what he might love
and it was in vain, i realize
he might not have been looking for perfection

i will try to swim the depths
you have explored
but i will not scold myself
if i am unable to hold my breath
a few minutes longer

i will try not to measure myself
against her or them
who have somehow already won
pieces of your heart
in one skillful way or another.

i will try to keep myself together
when finally you tell me
that i am too broken,
or too twisted, too insane
to have your heart

it begins i

it grows ii

it rages iii

it breaks iv