Estranged.

People usually get estranged by time.
By distance.
By fights.
By squabbles.
By age.
By differences.
By hatred.

But by love itself?
Ironic isn't it.

White-washed wall.

I refuse to hate,
Not that I can,
Even if I try,
I try to not feel,
And it leaves me numb,
As opening your eyes after resting it too long,
That much it worked.

But alongside that
It killed my spirit.
A spirit so vibrant,
A spirit so free,
That when you killed the love,
You killed the spirit,
That defines me.

A demented soul.

How do you speak to yourself,
When you're afraid of listening to your own voice.
How do you choose to see,
When you blind your sight from reality.
How do you hear the truth,
When you're afraid thus run too far.
How do you heal a broken heart,
When you're convinced that it is but just a scar.

The end of a fall.

The months that flew by,
I refuse to believe was a curse,
I refuse to believe was a curse,
Even though I ended but a shadow,
A figment lost as the sea breeze pasts,
As dust wiped off a surface,
It was gone as soon as it was there.

It was not a curse,
It was a blessing,
It taught a lesson of  a lifetime,
That to love does not mean to own,
It means to feel,
It does not mean to have,
It means to care,
It means, that to love from afar,
Does not make it any less than love itself.
And that in love,
To leap and fall,
Is inevitable.

That is an art,
That the past few months have taught me, restlessly,
More bitter than all bitter gourds combined,
Though still sweeter than the nectar of heaven itself,
Much longer than a hot night,
Yet shorter than a second's pause,

It was the reason why I am awake at night,
The reason why I started to write,
The return of my passion to sketch,
It ignited my past lovers that have long been dead.

The stranger knocking on my front door last August,
I refuse to believe was a curse,
It was a blessing.

Oui? Oui!

I took up French as my third language in uni, and I finally understood why people sometimes could only understand the language, but not speak it.

Well, I guess I could catch a word or two, but I can barely say my name, it still feels... unnatural. Is that the right word for it? Ahh pish posh.

Random thought of mine. Oh wells, gotta get back to Administrative Law cause it's SO much fun.

On that note, I actually made another blog, I intend to post my law notes there, intend being the word. I hope it wouldn't stop midway as everything else that I do except for eating. Now now, eating is sacred *a moment of silence*

Nyways, if you're reading law and you wanna browse through (why would you ever do that. really. seriously) or if you're a layman wanting to just casually read my notes, here's the link : http://lawfullylawyered.blogspot.com/

Till then, au revoir! ;)

An English Ode for an Eastern Lover

The sun rises in your eyes,

And as I look into them, 

It sets in mine.

The flower blooms, in all it's majesty,

Every petal, a hue brighter than the other, 

A beauty comparable only to you.

The wind, strong and forceful,

Billowing against my ear, caressing my neck,

Can only be matched by the amorous ferocity of your touch.

Oh sweet lover, 

How could you still ask me, why I love you.

Luck

A few years back, a man told me that for luck to keep a black koi in our fish pond.

That we did, whether it works or not, I honestly don't know. I like to think that it did.

Anyways, as you all would definitely have noticed, I do have a fish pond on my blog, albeit a virtual one, and there is a black koi in it.

Though it doesn't help that the water is black ey? Haha. So, question, how to find the black koi?

It's simple really. See, when you feed the fishies (by right-clicking), the fishies would go eat 'em, and when they do, the water will ripple.

From there, you can find the whereabouts of the black koi when you see the water ripple but there's no sight of the black koi (duhhh)

Happy hunting!

Reality

You don't see the things I do for you, do you?

How much I've changed just to fit your liking, how much I've kept up with you.

It's so easy for you to say fuck it and leave the scene, like I was only a waitress who got your order wrong.

Not a partner who has been with you all along.

If you see this, it might already be too late.

You're not going to break my heart any longer.

Unlucky one

One wouldn't know that one is in love.

One will only realise it once one is free-falling,

And at that time, it usually is too late for one to do anything.

Kiss damage control goodbye.

See you soon, one is in the midst of a jump.

Who knew stars could shine so bright?

You're like a love letter,
I said to you one night,
That night when the stars glimmered so bright,
That it put the moon to shame,
Impossible you say?
It's true, impossible too that I actually feel this way.

Have you ever received a love letter?

If you have, than you will understand exactly what I am going to say. There are several stages to this feeling, and for the love of god, it is amazing.

Firstly, when you catch a first glance of the letter, the way your heart lurches in apprehension before you have it in your hands, that excitement as you see your name scrawled on it, be it unsightly or scratchy,it throws you off. You fall in a trance, a lover's trance as you fight for that calming breath, before you could open the letter. You just want to savour the moment, the anticipation. It's beautiful, it's amazing.

Do you know that feeling? That's how you make me feel.

Secondly, after battling with your very self, and having opened the letter (which you did slowly because you do not want to tear any of it) you see, again (in my case) that unsightly hand writing, it's like a wave of ocean just crashed on you. You're swayed, you're swept, you're everything not on this earth. The theory of gravity does not apply at that time. You can't form the scribbles in the letter, you only see blots of love on it, and those blots are the reason why you're breathing. The first word on the letter, you utter it over and over on your lips, because you do not want it to end. It's beautiful, it's amazing.

Do you know that feeling? That's how you make me feel.

Thirdly, after you finally got over the first word, all you want is to dissolve in the paper, to feel and to live the writings. I love you, it says, and all you want is to give life to those words, it is not as warm as it should be, and you know that. Every line is a gem, and to every line you give your whole life to it. It means more than that. You knit those words with memories, with laughter, with love, with him. Every word is interpreted carefully and kept safely in your heart, locked, never to come out. It's beautiful, it's amazing.

Do you know that feeling? That's how you make me feel.

Fourthly, as you reach the end, your heart refuses to go on, as you wish it was forever, but the pragmatic eye, the curious eye, lowers the gaze, in search of loving words of goodbye, words that will keep you safe. It 's like going to a magnificent zoo, and forced to leave at the end of the day. Inevitable. You wallow in the last few words, gulp it all down one last time. The magnitude of love enveloping that letter, you imagine his hands writing down those last few words, and at that moment, you tell yourself, this is the one, this is forever. It's beautiful, it's amazing.

Do you know that feeling? That's how you make me feel.

You evoke emotions alien to me, my first sight of you on a Monday morning, leaves me breathless for the rest of the week. A single hello from you, sweeps me off my feet. As you talk to me, the whole world begins to make sense, and when you say goodbye, my heart refuses to understand that it is the end.

Do you understand now?

You are a love letter. You are a love letter clad in a mini-sized t-shirt with a pencil as a weapon which you use to write words of love to me, and for that I love you. x