Smelling the Roses

The tea's gone cold now
Music has faded into the night
You feel its cooling breeze against your skin. Despite that,
You still feel the heat

I hear Josh Groban crooning
His voice melodious and soothing
I’m in a sanctuary you can't get in
I feel safe, finally

He imitates the acts of others
Failing to recognize the loss
He loses himself in the course
Forgetting who he was at the beginning

She takes off her masks
And lets her clothes fall
We watch her fall from grace
As we realize the ugliness between

You sing loudly and unrestrained
Making everyone cringe
Unknowingly they fall under your enchantment
Your sinister smile grows

I let go of your hand
And run free along the darkened skies
I smell the magic in the air
I feel amorous tonight

He guides us along a rocky road
Dancing and spinning all the way
As we struggle to keep up
He disappears into the moonless midnight

Her hands bloodied and sore
Still rhythmic and steadfast
She moves elegantly
Weaving her enchantment around us all

Your hands create exquistry
Magnifique screams out loudly
Finesses undeniable in your works
They stop for a second glance

I dance along the cliff's edge
Unafraid to fall into the chasm below
Knowing you'd be there to catch me
I smile and release my inhibitions

His hair like molten honey
Shines brightly in the twilight
We follow the mystical light
To reach this Adonis figure

Flawless she is
As she pirouettes majestically
Her cold blue eyes pierce your very soul
And only you see her cruelty within

Buried Under

"It's called 'soul murder'. That's what you're talking about, aren't you?" her hushed tones, afraid to break the silence. Amber eyes stare back at yours, waiting in anticipation. You look at her, tears forming at the corner of your eyes, unable to answer her. "Oh god..." she whispered, reaching out to hold your now trembling form, "Oh god, my baby." She cries for you, crying the tears that you refuse to let go of, holding you tightly, as if you would slip away.

Then again, you might. Just so that it would all go away; the unwanted memories that terrifies and shakes the very core of your heart. Because even though you said you're all over it now, you still can't believe that it happened to you. Till today, you can't bear to say the word out; you can't bear to tell others what happened to you. It's a heavy burden and a huge secret that you carry. One that you can't really tell others in fear of their reactions.

Some might pretend that it never happened. But you know differently. No matter how much you try to hide from it, or how far you can run from it, you know that it'll always come back. And you can't do anything to stop it. You can cover your ears and close your eyes; you can probably pull the covers over your head as well. But it'll still be there, waiting, haunting you, and never releasing you from its claws.

Others might pity you; sympathy in their eyes every time they look at you. Trying to understand what you're going through, or worse; pretending to know what you're going through. But they don't really understand; they don't really know. They can try, but they will never. And you'll hate it. Being pitied, having others pretending to understand. You just want to scream at them and call their bluff. The hypocritical people who only wish to help.

Certain people might hide from you. They'll run away, leaving you even more lonesome and insecure than before. But you can't stop them. They have a right to choose; free will, which sometimes isn't that great after all. You start doubting yourself, and stop trusting everyone. You’ll barricade yourself in, refusing to let anyone see within you. Hiding from everything and anything, losing yourself in the process. But then again, you'll never know. Not until you tell them.

Picture By : Royston Toh

Dreams

My hand, he takes. 

So tightly, he grasps. 

Like in a moment, I would disappear. 

Laughter, so naïve, 

Like the children we once were, 

Before the poisoned world tainted us. 

Smiles, so secretive, 

Hiding things that shouldn’t be seen, 

Like they always do. 

Tears, bearing your souls, 

Displaying things that should be concealed, 

Obscuring things that should be exhibited. 

Jealousy, a disgusting emotion, 

Hindering a rational thought, 

Presenting only irrational ones. 

Hate, a black cloud, 

Masking the goodness within, 

Like a rotten apple that can’t be eaten. 

A melody, so melancholy, 

Filling your soul, killing your spirit,

Washing away your heart. 

Grotesque, the dance is, 

Creating a nightmare ballet, 

So intoxicating, you can’t escape. 

So sweet, a dream is, 

Like a rose and its thorns, 

Bleeding you dry when you least expect it. 

Shaking my head,
I wake up, 

As remnants of the dreams wash away. 

Picture By : Royston Toh 

Picture Edited By : Yours truly

Old Flames and Passionate Nights Series

The Morning of Yesterday

 You walked in; heels dragging on the rosewood floorboards, shoulders slumped. You looked as though you have not slept well in days; world-weary and wanting to give up. I sensed your presence way before I saw you. What was it that made you so special?

“Hey…” you sighed, as you dumped yourself on the wooden stool, “What’s the strongest thing you have here?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Drinking away your problems? That’s new.”

“Yeah well, that’s all I can think of right now. And there’s something about this place that somehow makes me feel better.”

“Huh… Even so, you shouldn’t be drinking the problems away.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Can you just get me the strongest thing you have?”

I shook my head as I got to work; my body moving automatically after months and years of practice. I wondered briefly if you still like lemon-flavored drinks.

“Here,” I said, slamming the whiskey glass on the table, spilling some of the mix, “Enjoy,” sarcasm evident in my voice. You looked up, shocked.

“You know I can complain to your boss about this,” you said haughtily, spoiling for a fight.

“Well, go ahead, ‘cause she’s standing right in front of you,” I shot back.

Your eyes widened. Obviously, nobody kept in touch with you. “You own this place?”

“Yeah, anything wrong with that?” I challenged, raising my chin.

“No… No… I just thought… well that this was temporary… that you’d go back doing your PhD…” you struggled to make sense of it all.

“As I said, people change.”

“That’s obvious,” you eyed me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time in years. Defiance swept through me. A bar job had requirements and one of them was the skimpy clothes.

“So,” I leaned forward, “What’s bothering you? You never drank your problems away before.”

“Problems… Trina… You know the rest…” you mumbled, as you picked up the whiskey glass and sniffed it carefully, “Hey… this smells lemony!”

I shrugged, “Sun under the Tropics; another house special,” I paused for a moment, “Actually most of our drinks are special. Of course we do offer the usual though.”

You sipped the mixture cautiously, as if you expected it to explode anytime soon, “What’s in here? It tastes like lemon juice…”

I smirked, “Maybe because it is?” I turned and walked away, “You shouldn’t be drinking your problems away. Get up and solve them,” I said to you as I walked away, leaving you there speechless.

You left your drink on the bar as you run after me, “What time do you end? Can I take you out?”

I cocked an eyebrow, “Does the phrase ‘You have a girlfriend’ ring a bell in your thick head?”

You stepped back stunned. You did not expect the harsh tones or the cruel words. “Hey, I was just asking. If you don’t want to then it’s fine with me. Didn’t need that,” you bit out, before turning around, “Wished I hadn’t come,” you muttered as you grabbed your coat and walked out of my bar.

Once again, I stared at your receding back, torn between the desire to run after you and the need to walk away like did before.

Picture By : Royston Toh