​Dear Ghost: 4

Dear Ghost, 

Your touch of cold misery 
still lingers

in my deepest memory. 

Your bitter laughter

still echoes

when all I could think of is peace. 

Though I try to run

far far away

where I wouldn’t see 

your footsteps; 

Far ahead of you, 

so I wouldn’t be trapped

in your shadow; 

so your darkness

would leave me alone–

You somehow get your way

back into my safe zone

stepping inside

that border

I drew 

with my faintest will

to keep you away; 

You somehow

find a way

to creep into the night

and invade my dreams

and turn it into nightmares; 

You still find a way

to make me feel

uncertain, 

unguarded, 

crippled, 

and unwanted. 

I smile 

and writhe in pain

all at the same time. 

But I shall run still

and build that wall

once again. 

A wall

You can’t break through; 

a wall

that shall crush you

the moment you dare

to even stare at it. 

A wall that 

shall keep me safe

from false hope

and deceitful smiles. 

I’d stay 

behind that wall

where I shall be free

from your toxic words. 

From this moment

to the eternal emptiness to come, 

I shall keep my self free

From your plausible trickery. 

City Lights

​Could I pretend 

you are all shooting stars

that fell from the vast sky? 

Then I’d utter a wish 

from one to the other

And believe 

you’d all consider 

granting that one single wish 

that I’d whisper all over again 

until one heeds my plea. 

Until then 

I shall keep wishing 

as you fascinate 

this lonely girl 

in a strange city.

​THE INANE POETESS

Did the words leave her hanging 

or have she left them scattered?

Soaked and smashed on the ground–

Not a single meaning could be found.
So nonsense verses were written,

As the poetess lost her rhythm;
Like a lunatic, she just keeps humming–

Mindlessly tapping her fingers, eyes aren’t shining;
Like how it used to,

As she sings along with the wind,

And the stars dance as the melody plays,

Blinking her scars away.
Yet the song stopped–

And so did she.

Lost in the  darkest, loneliest, 

And unforgiving sea.

Disclaimer: The sketch is originally a pinterest photo.  Let’s say I’m a copycat.  Harhar.  Ctto.  😚

​100-Word Story: Unspoken Words

“I love you,” I whispered to her ear. 

She’s sleepy yet she fights it. She’s still waiting for someone,  and she doesn’t know he’s already beside her. 

She curiously stared at me like I’m a stranger. I smiled sadly. For a moment she just studied my face before slowly smiling with misty eyes.

“I wish my son would also tell me that,” she whispered between labored breaths. 

I couldn’t help but silently cry. I never told her I love her before Alzheimer’s hit her,  and no matter how many times I utter those words now,  she wouldn’t remember me anymore.

Nineteenth Entry

I heard you say my name,
As you dropped and tapped my window pane;
Making your way down in bliss,
And my name became a masterpiece.

I heard you sing a melody,
The one that’s been in my head.
As I patiently waited for your fall,
I hummed the song instead.

And so I whisper the feelings
I feel when you fall;
And let you soak my soul.
Your sound creeping to my deepest griefs,
And once again I am whole.

Dear you,

Nope.
It’s not the rain that you hate
But the memories that come crashing down
When the little drops meet the ground.
Those days you couldn’t replay,
Like a photo you could look back to,
But could never live on anymore.
The thought of a place you couldn’t be in,
As the tiny crystals shine in delight through your window pane.
It’s the song you used to sing,
But now you hate to hear
As the raindrops fall to the roof,
With the perfect melody
That hums as your heart beats.

Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate,
But the emptiness you feel,
For things you could’ve
or could’ve not done.
Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate.
You love the sound it creates,
Like a lullaby on sleepless nights.
You love how it make its way down
On your glass window
As you trace them with your fingertips.
You love how each drop feels
Against your skin
Against your palm,
Against your face
Welcoming every tear.
Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate,
But the things
that made you think you hate it.
So dear,
See how beautiful the rain is.
It does remind you of pain,
But mirth always comes with it.

With a drop of my own rain,
Vier.

Letters From Vier

Letters. They’re just letters. I might or might not send it. You might or might not read them. You might or might not want to write a response. Nonetheless, let me keep them. Let me scribble the words I could never say. Let me tell you what you should or should not know.  Just let me.

Let me write you a letter.

(Decided to create an fb page. Page name is on the title. You can visit if you’d like. Cheers!:))

100-Word Story: Just Suicidal

She was okay. She had a happy family. She had friends— only few but enough. She had a normal life, laughing with her friends on their crazy days. She might be sad at times, yet she never cried. Nobody saw her shed tears. She was always happy. So when her lifeless body was found lying on her bed, with a note clutched in her hand, everyone was dumbfounded. They couldn’t believe. They didn’t want to believe. They didn’t notice her sad eyes when she smiled. They’ve  thought she was okay, but her note proved otherwise—she had always felt empty.