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

Three Hundred and Sixty-Five Letters

I remember writing you a hundred love letters after you went away. They asked why you had to go and if you missed me like I missed you. Each one told you how much I missed your scent and your laughter ringing around the house. Each letter asked if you still remembered our dreams together.

I remember writing you a hundred hate letters after you went away. They cursed you for putting me through such pain. They hoped you would suffer a fate worse than mine. They wished you would realize your mistake and come running back to me so that I could turn you down. Each one soaked with tears.

I remember writing you a hundred letters after you went away. They asked you how have you been and where are you now. They told you of my life in the aftermath of a relationship. They told you of my new life without you. Each one filled with regret and a small hope of what-could-be’s.

I wrote you a total of three hundred letters after you went away. Three hundred letters that I never sent. Three hundred letters that I burnt when December came. Then I wrote another sixty-five letters. To myself. Telling myself that it was time to move on. And when the last letter was written, I begin to walk again.

Picture By : Royston Toh

Fairytales

Sometimes true love

Is right in front of you

Someone told me

True love doesn't exist

Cold and harsh

It was like

Having

My little childhood dream destroyed

What happened to all?

The Prince Charming

And happily-ever-after?

They were just stories

To amuse little kids

But since you're older, I thought you should know

I frowned

That isn't true

If true love doesn't exists

The old man who has dementia

Wouldn’t remember the love of his life

If true love doesn't exists

The little girl wouldn't learn sign language

Just to be friends with the new kid in school

If true love doesn't exists

You wouldn't be happily married

With two kids today

Someone became uncertain

Then what are the fairytales for?

I thought long and hard

Till I remembered a phrase I once heard

Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist.

Children already know that dragons exist.

Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed

The dragons are

Trials and tribulations

You go through each passing moment

By overcoming them

You find true love

Magical Musical

We watched the beams lit up the night sky
And for a moment
We forgot our troubles
And lived in that one moment

It was magical
With the instrumental music
Playing in the background
And the sea breeze ruffling our hair

It felt like
Everything was fine
But the show ended
And we came back to reality

Stay Gold Forever

We sat there, me chugging on my Starbucks Vanilla Latte, you on your Mocha. I lit a cigarette up and took a deep breath. You wrinkled your nose, hating the "disgusting cancer-making stench of smoke". You didn't say anything though. Even if you did, you knew it would fall on deaf ears. JLS played on the speakers as we sat there not talking, watching the world pass by. I had so much to say to you, to ask you, but back then, I couldn't form the sentences I needed to speak. We had too little time left; it was running out.

"Found myself asking
What are you waiting for?
'Cause everyday I love you a little bit more

"I like this song," you broke the silence, "Feels nostalgic, doesn't it?"

I nodded and took another puff.

"Ironic isn't it?" you asked wryly, "Me, oh-so-healthy, has no time left, and you who wants to die, have a long way ahead."

I stared at him, not knowing whether to grin or frown, not knowing if it'll turn into another round of depression.

"Do you ever wonder why?"

I jiggled my leg and took another puff, "I guess it's 'cause of 'His Will be done' and all that jazz."

You chuckled, a sound I hadn't heard in a while. "So what?" you asked, "How is that fair?"

I could see the fear in your eyes.

"I'll be forgotten. Just another somebody who died. Nobody will remember me. Y'all will carry on with your lives and move on. 'Cause I'll just be another somebody who kicked the bucket."

I opened my mouth to say something as 'The Wanted' cut in.


We could rule the world someday, somehow
But we'll never be as bright as we are now.

We're standing in a light that won't fade,
Tomorrow's coming but this won't change,
Cause some days stay gold forever.
The memory of being here with you,
Is one I'm gonna take my life through,
Cause some days stay gold forever.

Both of us stared at the speakers in shock.

Butterflies, butterflies..
We were meant to fly,
You and I, you and I..
Colours in the sky,
When the innocence is dead and gone,
These will be the times we look back on.

We're standing in a light that won't fade,
Tomorrow's coming but this won't change,
Cause some days stay gold forever.
The memory of being here with you,
Is one I'm gonna take my life through,
Cause some days stay gold forever.

I won't, I won't
Let your memory go
Cause your colors they burn so bright,
Who knows, who knows
What tomorrow will hold
But I know that we'll be alright

Cause some days stay gold forever.

The song faded out and I smirked at you, "I think God just answered you."

That was last month. I said 'goodbye' to you last week. I still keep the memory of you with me, because some memories stay gold forever.

Picture By: Royston Toh ; Trinity

Story Inspired By :
The Wanted ; Gold Forever
JLS ; Love You More