Makeshift-Blank Pages

I only know so much as to say that I know nothing. 

 

Pages that were once filled

With ink and smiles, 

Clumsily painted over with white.

Thoughts too bright to be covered

Were torn off and crumpled. 

Words that once echoed  in my ear

Seem to be mere strangers. 

Faces that shone through 

The darkest corners of my mind,

Faded in to the abyss of a world unknown.

Promises that lingered in the air,

Swept away by the north wind. 

These were but mere steps

To unwrite, to purge my being

Of thoughts that haunt, Thoughts that linger,

Thoughts that never cease to corrupt. 

 

I know nothing, nothing but these makeshift blank pages that will soon bear new ink stains. 

Irrelevant

I don’t need him.

Not his money,

Nor his polo shirts,

Or those trips outside the country.

I don’t need to see him.

And I don’t need to see him wear his tux

To every milestone in my life.

I don’t need to sit in a table for five,

With his significant other,

And those two little ones.

I don’t need to be told that I have his

Height, or his limbs, or hypertensive trait.

I don’t need him to sweet-talk me

Into believing his every word.

I don’t need his perfectly combed hair,

Nor that scent he wears,

The one that makes me weak.

No!

I don’t need his comforting hugs,

Nor his effort to make me feel happy.

I don’t need him to pick me up when I call for help.

I don’t need him to take my hand while we cross the street.

I don’t need him to wipe my tears,

Then let me keep his sweet smelling handkerchief.

Not his cigarette-stained lies,

Nor those bottle-slurred I LOVE YOU’s.

I don’t need him to call me “Baby Girl”

Every time he gets the chance to.

I don’t need him to compensate

For those countless years of absence.

I don’t need to be reminded that

He didn’t choose me. Us.

I don’t need to hear him say

“You are mine”.

I don’t need to miss him,

Nor kiss his cheek,

Nor get lost in his embrace.

I don’t need to break at the mention of his name,

at the sight of his torn up, virtual photograph.

 

I don’t need him.

No, I certainly don’t.

I’ll get by.

Somehow,

I will.

You Make Your Own Nightmares

It is all in your head                                                                                     The demons that haunt you

It’s all in your mind
What is meant by those actions

It’s all in your head
The thoughts that devour you

It’s all in your mind
The words that does not escape the lips

It’s all in your head
That the sun will rise in the west

It’s all in your mind
That the pavement is smooth and straight

It’s all in your head
That the mirror will not break

It’s all in your mind
The notion of forever

It’s all in your head
It’s all in your mind

Wake up you pompous
This is reality

A Clean Slate

Firecrackers going off like cannons. Pots and pans clamoring, imitating the sound of gongs. Trumpets sounding, as if you were in the presence of royalty. Sirens ‘wing’ and ‘wang’ everywhere. 

I cringe at the sound of every crack, and bang, and boom. It’s so different from spending the new year in Beijing, a whole lot peaceful than the “war” going on, outside. All you hear is the sound of people singing, and beer bottles clinking. 

Putting my “New Year Scrooge” tendencies aside…

Maybe all this noise is supposed to be a wake up call. Maybe, if you listen closely, you’ll realize that the noise is actually a huge orchestra playing music. Maybe all this noise is simply telling me that, “Hey! It’s time to forgive those who must be forgiven, forget what must be forgotten. Box up all your woes and worries, silly. Saddle up. Pile up your courage. Here’s your chance to start anew.”

A New Year, A New Beginning.