For that moment past

Sometimes I wonder about the shadows long cast,
And during those moments everything returns,
Like flashing light moving at the speed of sound,
The emotions come spilling as if to drown.

At that point of time I’d drop my knees to the ground.

Caught in between the blur of memories,
My head swirls with the flow of the moment,
I think of the faces in my past,
The eyes that once flowed with lust.

Forgive my faults, for I left it unrequited.

With the beat of her heart,
I remember about the moments shared,
The sound of her voice in my ears,
I look back into those eyes.

I saw something broken.

Try as I might to mend the tear,
It was there even before I began,
It was not mine to fix,
Neither was it mine to make.

The frustration as the words never touched.

The subtleties of her actions,
Destroying me slowly with her trust,
I lean against her one last time,
And whisper into her ear.

Goodbye.
-Times long past

I was blind once upon a time, I could not judge as well as I could, I could not see myself through her eyes then, but now I can. I guess I meant a lot, but what am I to do? I made a choice, I tried, but the conversations went dry. And nothing was left to carry it on; I did not feel the love. The realization that there wasn’t love to begin with.

Now that’s quite a while ago, I pray to this day those eyes of lust have calmed and have been requited by someone else. I learnt a very important lesson long before that incident, and that was I had to be true to myself. A person once told me about relationships, “It was just the shades of grey in life, the inbetween, that long lasting relationships never lasted on love, sure it may have started on infatuation that felt like love, but after the infatuation was long gone, after the lust had been cleared, the eyes would see nothing else, and for it to work that had to be a common idea, a sort of agreement between two people to take care of each other. People could never live off love, but rather responsibility as a couple.”

When I think about it, I don’t really agree with that. Even after infatuation is gone, it doesn’t mean love has to go. If you like the person, you have to like that person for what they are, every detail of them, their feelings, manners and actions. If the choice was made simply on the way they looked or their status, then of course there would not be love to begin with. It’s still possible to find love that way though, but when the infatuation and lust is over, you begin to see the person for who they are, and if you don’t like what you see, then I guess you wouldn’t love the person.

Love, requires one to really be able to want to be with the person, past the infatuation, past the lust, past the image of being with someone, its about actually about wanting to be with that person, that smile, that manner, that person.

I once wrote a long time ago, as a prologue for a story, my definition of true love. It’s changed slightly along the way, but remains mostly the same, here is a part of it:

“ True love, how does it happen? Love at first sight? I do not really believe in such things, for even when you look into the eyes of the person, and see their emotions within them, it is like a story without a start or ending. No matter how much you judge a person by their looks, you cannot tell what they are truly like, until you have been with them. For me, I judge women like a bottle of wine, the appearance of the bottle maybe attractive or seductive, but you can never know what its like or whether you would love it until you have tasted its contents. The contents are the women’s true self, her personality and her essence. A woman can be sweet or sour, strong or mildly pleasant, intoxicating or weak. She could have a great after taste that leaves you wanting for more, she could make you addicted to her. Addiction, the start of infatuation, that eventually leads to love. To me, infatuation is the part and parcel of life that eventually leads to love or rejection if it is given the chance. And like wine, women can get better with age or become the sour vinegar that would be undrinkable. It depends on her, she is the one who defines how she ages and changes. If she becomes better with age, her beauty is more enhanced and her personality becomes more refined.”

The original was written during my O levels, when I was sixteen. Over the years, I’ve added new lines or changed a few words. Most of it however, is the same as before. The title of the story is crying angel, in all, I wrote three chapters. I had planned to write a total of twelve chapters to finish my first novel.

I never finished, till this day I don’t think I’ll find it till I find the muse that allows me to complete that story. Till then, I’ll write other stories, and of course more poetry. A poem for my thoughts, a line for my emotions, every word representing my life.



Haste overcomes us,
Stay for a moment,
I look out the window.

When do we arrive?

I feel your goodbye,
As we chase our lives,
To where the path returns.

Where did we begin?

I listen to the whispers,
Where the emotions rise,
Where the souls divide.

For time does not lie.

When the sleep returns,
I hope to see your smile,
To see if the truth is there.

Looking at the void between.

So many excuses heard too often,
Cold as we are left standing around,
So much left unspoken.

So much to say.

-For that moment.

Reality Surge

Volatile the circumstance on this window sill,
Yet the urge to tamper with it,
To see what is on the other side,
Breathe in the air.

A face appears at the window.

As I look into her eyes,
The exchange of our expressions,
Like telepathy,
She beckons to me.

The passion is so divine.

Her hand gestures like a dove,
The words mouthed filled with sweet returns,
Yet with all its clearness,
There is such a veil of mystery.

The attraction undeniable.

The hot breath from her lips,
Placing her hand on the glass,
It seems to melt it away,
For a moment.

Our hands touched.

She pulls away beckoning me to come,
I feel drawn towards the beyond,
Into the shadows that lies behind her,
With her.

I turn the lock,
As the cold wind blows,
Cutting my eyes as I try to look forward,
A hand reaches out before me.

I feel no trust.

Closing the window,
Turning my back,
She rushes to the window,
I reach down for the brick.

Some windows were never meant to be open.
I pull my hand back slowly,
She screams at what I am about to do,
I know what was needed,
I let myself go.

Some windows were meant to be broken through.

The lines were written between the latitude,
Shrinking into the darkness,
Not wanting me to see,
Revealed for what she is.

For only at the edge of reality can I recover my sanity.
-Reality Surge

Where does a choice begin and a decision occur? All the while, in my life, the choices I’ve been presented with were spread far and wide. The very one’s placed in front of my face seemed like the most obvious choices, yet in the end, I chose something else, something that I felt was right.

Sometimes, when someone is given choices, many people try to influence their decision, to the point, it can be hard to think. I’ve seen all my friends stuck in similar positions as me, and the choices they make are often heavily influenced by what people think they should do, rather than what they feel they want to do. For the decision to be made, I’ve had time to think, to decide, I didn’t rush, but most of my friends never took the time. Some do regret their decisions, and bear grudges against those who influenced them, but in the end, it’s not those people’s fault, it’s theirs for making it. Unless they were forced, the choice they made was theirs.

My older sister wanted to do theatre studies, she was well suited for it, an arts student in junior college who was in the debates team, represented Singapore overseas and did drama at the same time for the ACJC drama company. She had just gotten her results, and applications for universities were to be made. My parents did not condone what she wanted to do, rather they tried through active persuasion and long debating to convince her that she would be better off going to study hotel management in Switzerland. Fast forward six years later, she got a degree from one of the top hotel management schools in the world and came back to Singapore to work for my parents. Being the eldest, I guess she felt obligated, and influenced to do the degree which ultimately brought her back to the family business. I guess she is fine with the job she currently has, and she has the drive, though she gave up her passion for acting to do what was considered the responsible choice, she made her decision.

As for me, I was at that path, between the responsible choice which was my parents believe I should do and the choice of me doing what I wanted. At that point, I did not really know what I wanted, so I took the responsible choice. Fast forward two and three quarter years later, in national service which was a break from the responsible choice, I found that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was fine with it, but it was not what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted something more.

The responsible choice I had made was doing a bachelor degree in business. It was a general degree, which would allow me to apply for many different office jobs, but it did not specialize in anything either than managing a business or people. What I wanted was more than that, I know business is practical, but what I wanted was something that involved the body. The decision I had made, was a degree in sports and nutrition. It was something that fit in to what I have enjoyed so much in my life, my interests. The love of sports, fitness and good nutrition. My love for keeping fit and cooking culminated with my desire and drive to learn new methods of exercise, the reasons and science behind it, the techniques that suited a person and nutrition that was best to reach a certain goal. It was something I knew I wanted to do for my life. Thus, the decision was made.

The time I spent in the army, had given me the time and chance to reflect on what I want to do with my life. Thus, I decided that what I wanted was feasible, and responsible, so I set about convincing those around me about it. Thus, I influenced the others who were supposed to influence my choice. Now, I await the moment, to move forward and live that choice. A future I look forward to, and must prepare rigorously, perhaps it’ll satisfy all the desires I have in life, and maybe it may not, but the most important thing was it was a decision made by me, after careful thinking.

Now the shadows of my life are stretching behind me, and now facing the start of the bridge, I see much to be climbed, of which I am enthusiastic about, one which I will meet with full vigor. And when I am done crossing that bridge, I look forward to seeing what is there on the other side.

Her hope swirls downwards,
The feeling of draining away,
Wishing for a pill,
To take her pain away.

To escape.


Fallen into the shadows,
A hint of her warmth remains,
Feathers lay upon the floor,
Closing her eyes as if to shut out the world.

A crimson drop falls to the floor.

The shadows begin to fade,
Clinging on to her own,
She wishes not to be seen,
To not be judged.

The world can be cruel.

A streak of warmth strikes her face,
Turning to the person reaching out,
A hand stretched out before her,
Her eyes can’t see past it.

She is unsure.

Borne into a world so cold,
Memories of pain,
Given empty promises,
People’s hidden agendas.

Finding it hard to trust.

From a time long forgot,
A slow sonata of old,
Of unrequited desires,
Of dreams long lost.

He holds her hand.


She feels as though she is falling,
Yet she finds herself rising,
She opens her eyes to the world,
A world of possibilities.

Where the pieces be

Where I stare to now,
Of the tears you shed,
Pleas you had made.

Things get broken.

You asked for a reason,
Its not that you never tried,
But something in you died.

You were lost to me.

I tried to understand,
Even when the dust has settled,
And the slice of pie has gone cold.

Many words left unspoken.

As the hot breath escapes me,
I breathe in deep the air around me,
I noticed the letter on the floor.

Hoping that one day the wounds would heal.

Torn halfway a ragged piece,
The anger of the words showed no peace,
Reflecting a hint of sanity’s eclipse.

Letting go of what was once precious.

I step out through the door,
Closing it gently as it creaks behind me,
The door is shut.

The room had been forgotten.
-A forgotten room

A long time ago, I made a wish, about someone who was precious to me. It was like a dream within a snow globe, perfect. But then upon sanity’s eclipse, the snow globe had fallen to the floor, shattered.

Many a tear was shed, a plea was made, but I guess I turned my back to the plea, though I still offered my comfort. Now, it’s been a long while, so I guess I’d take the time to reflect about it, and silently apologize for it was a failure on both sides.

The torn letters given to me remind me about how much was put into it, and what was lost, and filled with anger and hate.

Attempts at peace were not taken in well. That’s why; I left it all behind for the best, as a room that was best left forgotten. But of course, its part of my past, thus it can never be forgotten, it serves as a lesson, a scar. A memory of which I hold no regret, as I moved on, hoping that the other has.

Many lessons have been learnt since then; I’ve seen much more and took in more of the world’s light. For I must say, it is truly blinding.

As the light shines through the looking glass,
I notice the break within its center,
A change of direction.

It changes course.

It shines on the teddy on the floor,
Collecting dust from neglect,
Several coins lay around it.

What was the value of her intent?

Soft vibrations all around,
The wind chimes sound,
Blowing away the dust of old.

A reflection catches my attention.

I notice the gleam in the bear’s eye,
The expression seemed of warmth,
Yet the room was so cold.

What was it I had forgotten?

It feels soft within my hands.
So I put my arms around it.
It looks at me with conviction.

Remember the reason.

Her intent was something positive,
I had forgotten her touch.
I wondered why it was forgotten.

I had forgotten how to trust.
-Remembering myself.

As I think of the bears I’d been given in my time, I find it odd for a guy to get one, but I don’t recall how I got them all, and now I have so few left, most of them were lost, why they were lost I am unsure. Their collecting dust shows I’ve neglected them, and perhaps forgotten them.

She was always happy when I got them, I remember. All those who given them to me, all their faces seem a blur now, totally forgot. I wish I could remember all those who had given me gifts. An album where I could see the face with each gift I ever received. To be grateful for what I received.

She was all smiles when I was younger, and then she began to become less cheery and open as I got older. The world had taken its toil, sometimes slow, sometimes rapidly. It bore its weight down on her and she’d just break down. It tears me inside when she break’s down.

I guess I lost her often, because she had been hurt so many times, but I’ve gotten her back, with lots of determination. She was naïve, and always positive, until she got crushed one too many times, shrunk away into a cave, into the darkness, afraid to even feel. She lets few in, and even then, among those few, there were those who betrayed it. Who even, trampled upon her.

She is my innocence, and who is she? She is my sense of trust in people. It’s been hurt quite a few times, and yes she is one who feels a lot. I guess that’s why I am not that close to that many people, my true friends are few, my acquaintances are many. I guess for me, she is often left forgotten, and it’s so rare for her to truly trust someone.

And will she learn to trust more? I don’t know, my faith in my fellow man is skeptical; the only way to see how a person really is when the relationship is called into question or placed under strain, only then is it possible to see it for what it is. The world is full of masked faces, it’s so hard to tell, and honestly, it’s so hard to trust a masked face.

Can one judge another purely by look and first impressions? It takes time to trust another still, no matter how good an impression that person made. Of course that person would have peaked my interest, and I would like to understand them more. That’s when; I guess she comes out, out of the darkness, though warily and always ready to shrink back into the darkness never to return.

Those who’ve she’d let in, those angels over her shoulder where she can spread her wings without worry, those who have not let her down for so many years, I salute them. Those who are my closest, my true partners in life, I cherish them all, and look forward to so many more years.

The white feathers float slowly to the ground,
I look over and see,
The angels over my shoulder.

For all the wishes I’ve ever made.

Of the dreams within my head,
Of the love in my heart,
Of the smile upon my face.

Learning what it is to be happy.

Of the world’s light,
That fills our eyes,
And the joy’s we’ve had.

It’s glorious to see us all grow.

Cherishing that which is precious,
Beauty of the words spoke,
Bringing the feeling of content.

Is it too late to remind you?

Of the times even in silence,
How we enjoyed every bit,
For the lives we lived.

Doing the things we wanted to do.
-Cherish