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.