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Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Walls Everywhere

I scream to the wall that binds me up
I claw at its surface until my fingernails snap
I cover it with blood, my only lifeline
Then I realize it is me who’s been keeping it up.

So I dig below until I got out
Out of the walls that keep me out
Of peoples lives and peoples buzz
And I see the sunlight for the first time.

I breathe the air that suffocates me before
It didn’t change apart from how I view things now
The air that used to kill me, now brings me life.
I’m glad I tear the walls down.

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In response to #FWF Free Write Friday! I admit I’m starting to get hook in free writing. It just brings out everything in you and all the words out of you.

P.S. I recycled the image I used for this post. My original entry using this same image goes back to two years ago and can be found here.

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

The girl in the mirror

When I look in the mirror, I see a girl staring back at me.
Her hair golden and frizzy and unkempt, yet she didn’t mind.
She smiles at the reflection staring intently back at her.
Hello, she says.
Hello, I say back.
How are you? she says.
I’m fine. I snap.
Then I clip my mouth shut.
As she starts raising her hand, touching the mirror,
I feel mine doing the same, until
her long slender hand makes contact with mine.
That’s when I notice that her wrist
reflected the scars she didn’t know,
and cuts she’d never do,
and bruises she’d never bore.
I’m fine. I repeat. How about you?
Then she smiles the sweetest sickening smile I’ve ever seen
Good because of you.

I am not the girl in the mirror.
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In response to Daily Post Prompt: Mirror Mirror

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Glass Box

Glass box
I whispered to the being
I cannot see but feel
you cannot enter on me again
the way you freely used to be

Glass box
I can feel again your tentacles
holding me close to your chest
I sigh and let you be
let you come closer to me

But No, I should say Glass box
My magic word that let you Not be
that keeps me safe, away from you and him
and anyone who dared
come close to my being

Glass box
I am safe and secure
away from anyone’s conundrum
from the world’s hate and love
I am safe and sound inside my glass box

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In response to #FWF Free Write Friday –Prompt: “An entire sea of water can’t sink a ship unless it gets inside the ship. Similarly the negativity of the world can’t put you down unless you allow it to get inside you.”

P.S. The term Glass box and its connotation is inspired by a blog I once read.  Apologies if I didn’t give proper credits, I forgot the blog name.

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Auburn hair

I remember the first time I saw an angel. It was night, and I was wishing on a falling star.

Those are the times that my heart still beats the rhythm of myths and dragons, of fairies and fairytales, and of angels and fallen stars. My heart is still so young and naïve then that I would believe I could fly and grow wings out of my back if someone would tell me so.

He kissed my tears away while my eyes are closed as I wished upon a falling star.

“Be brave,” he whispered. His lips grazed lightly on my forehead, and I heard the first stirrings of my innocent heart.

I caught a glimpse of him before he completely vanished into thin air.

He has beautiful auburn hair.

Coal black wings.

– – –

In response to Inspiration Monday: Angel Hair.

Writing Entries, Writings

Losing 74 words: Because paragraphs need dieting too

Here’s my response of this week’s DP challenge.

Original paragraph from my 2011 post entitled The Small Dagger :

She was lying on the bed—as how she spend most of her days after the funeral—and looking at the ceiling, and she felt so emotionally numbed that she could not shed a teardrop anymore nor feel anything that even her breathing seemed so distant to her. And the air in the room was so still and so cold and she could only hear silence, pure silence, not even a bark of a dog or a car passing by or a ticking of the clock. Her mind was also as still as the air in her room, and there was not a single thought that came to her even if she tried to think.

After shrinking it:

Since the funeral, she spent most of her days on bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling lost and numbed. She could not cry nor think anymore as her mind was as still as her room filled with silence and cold air.

There! So from 115 words, I’d reduced it to 41 words. I don’t know if it get’s better or what, but it’s a fun challenge!

P.S. While writing this post, I’d noticed that I’m censoring and simplifying my choice of words. So far, this seems to be my smallest entry. 🙂

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings


Safe inside, toasty warm, while water pitter-patters on the roof… describe your perfect, rainy afternoon

It’s a cold rainy afternoon, and it’s weekend, and there’s nothing much to do but read a novel, watch TV, or curl up on a bed with him—with First. And in that moment and time, I imagine that he is my husband and it’s already the future that I’d always saw in my visions and long-lost dreams—

He would be in the kitchen making a cup of hot tea for me because my stomach is cramping after eating the lunch that we’d had, while I’m on our bed, on my side with a book, waiting for him to finish whatever tea he is brewing.

Then he would silently open the door, and I would hear his footsteps but I wouldn’t look at him and I would pretend to be so engrossed in the book I’m reading when the fact is that all I want to do is to look at his beautiful face the entire day.

Then I would hear him place the cup on our side table, and then I would hear the bed creak, and I would feel him on my side. He would wrap his arms around me and my stomach and he would kiss my bare shoulders, then he would whisper to my ears, “Still hurts?”

Inside I would smile, but I would turn to him, and making a face I would say, “Yes, a little.”

He would nod in understanding, and I would see love and concern in his eyes. He would bring his face close to mine, almost kissing me, then he would breathe, closing his eyes, and I would inhale too his scent, clean and heavenly, and I would feel instantly safe, and then he would whisper to me that he prepared me my favorite tea.

I would touch his beautiful face, grateful for having this being before me, and I would murmur, “Thanks.”

Then with that, he would open his eyes and would lock his gaze on me.

Then he would smile and I would forget that my stomach is cramping or that the protagonist in the book I was reading is about to get shot and I would forget everything in the world, and why I even chose him, or why I even have a problem in choosing him in the past, for this is my reality now; he is my God-willed and God-given reality. Then, as if knowing that I’m about to be lost forever in his eyes, he would nudge me gently, kiss my forehead, and remind me softly that my tea will get cold any moment if I don’t start sipping it.


Random Thoughts, Writing Entries, Writings

Morning Pages Bared: Dig deep into my thoughts

An entry to Daily Post weekly writing challenge and a first timer on *yeah write.

Yesterday on my way home, a poem was building on my mind. A poem about you and me. But not really you, for it is more about me and how I want to feel the beauty of feeling that people always ascribe to love. I wanted to capture it in a poem, even for a fleeting moment, a poem just full of happiness and no pain. I wanted to feel the happiness, even for that poem, even by being just inside that poem. So I resolved to write it when I got home. But then I got lazy and I went to bed early instead.

There I read a book while I lay on my stomach, and then you came to me as always, and I saw your face, and I felt every bit of you as you cup my cheeks in between your hands, and kissed me lightly on the lips, as you always did now. You must love me or respect me to kiss me like that always, the way I wanted to be kissed, not the way you wanted to kiss me. You might think I might not notice, but I do. Because the first time wasn’t how I really wanted it. Just passion and lust. And I don’t want anything like that. But then I noticed as days and years pass, you changed. I mean the kisses change and how you held me every night. For the first time then, I feel love from you, and you started to be more gentle, in your kisses, in your hugs, in your touches.

I still don’t believe anything of it is true. I’m the kind of person who pretty much believes in everything, and don’t believe in anything. It’s like being on two opposite poles and I’m never on the center. Sometimes I believe on everything, and then the next time, I don’t anymore. That’s how I am like. So there were times I believed in you, moments I tried to let the idea sink into my head, down into my heart, and deep into my soul.

But there were moments, and there are pretty much many times when I tried to cast it all away. To banish you, to push you away, and to pull myself away from you. And I enjoyed those times. Yes, I enjoyed harming myself when feelings went too much because I don’t know how else to cope but to feel another pain, much more intense than the first one. And that’s how I do it. Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m not. But definitely having you in my life nailed me as one.

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