the lust in thoughts.

The flashes of the strobe lights hid the true form of your face. I could only see the lines of your jaw, the drop of your pointed nose, the plump of your lips, the long eyelashes you have, and the loss look of your left eye. In the sea of people, it was your distant... Continue Reading →

ghost eyes.

Rose rests her head on my shoulder, taking a break from her murder. Her sister’s lifeless body lies before our feet. Her pool of blood reaches the soles of my shoes and I can’t believe I’m seeing my dead fiancé. Rose plucks out a cigarette stick and lights it. “Her wedding dress might not fit... Continue Reading →

out of words

The green field, just below the rocky mountain we climbed for two days, was wet, but not muddy. The rain had started as soon as we dropped our bags and tents beside a tree. While I was shielding my glasses from the rain, you ran to the mellow touches of the grasses, spreading your arms... Continue Reading →

the light tones.

One of the reasons I embrace the summer air is the love it exudes at the time of its sunset. The drools of the orange flames caressing my splintered skin with its silk-like heat, but never burning me to death—like you do. I watch you dip your paintbrush, used and barely wet, in the palette... Continue Reading →

wars and stars.

I’m counting the stars from the floor of the dark forest. Without a tent, but with a campfire, I cloud each light with my finger, constructing my own constellation through my ghost touches. Beside my ear, I can hear your stable breathing. I gaze at your shut eyes and the slit of your lips, and... Continue Reading →

sea in a cup of tea.

Before you leave, I have to remind you to drink the coffee I prepared for you. To check if you have your car keys with you. To iron the folds and creases of your blouse with your palm. Before you close that door, you send me a warm gratitude without the brush of your lips... Continue Reading →

a foreign language.

What I had feared before happened tonight. My skin no longer recognized the graze of your fingers. Every grip and rip on my body sang a strange song to my ear. But I held your gaze and waited for your old soul to return—it did not. And so your eyes spoke the exhaustion to my... Continue Reading →

from an omen to a remorse.

Every healed wound I found on the land of your skin reminded me of the servant I became. For every open gash you brought to me came a stitch through my trembling fingers—a river of punctures into your stubborn skin, but you endured it with whiskey. I thought my anticipation and hunger to each of... Continue Reading →

whiskey and iced tea.

I made the whiskey my water, to quench the frost I needed to thaw. In a living room I shared with numerous strangers, some I had already tasted their foreign tongues, I gulped the brown liquor, glass by glass. The time I opened my eyes, I saw your figure in the corner. Your fingers bent... Continue Reading →

sandalwood candle.

It is past midnight and you are out here, somewhere far from my reach, but still around the neighborhood. Perhaps riding your bent bicycle, I am not sure. But you gaze at the stars, chin up to avoid the tears from plummeting to your cheeks (yet they still do), counting the endless lights above. Tonight,... Continue Reading →

pivot.

In the echoes of somebody else’s name, you sang the holy praises of your woes. His merry hands clouded your lips, your cheeks, your tears, and your rips until he sank his dear hands into your lungs to take your heart. But your breath did not falter; it crippled to bliss, instead. How many days... Continue Reading →

to worry.

To worry is to bite your nails and to look afar, while someone tries to tell you something, but you cannot listen. To part your lips and breathe uneasily, but unconsciously. To imagine thousands of worse scenarios, not knowing when one of these would happen. To compensate yourself by assuming the best scenario would happen.... Continue Reading →

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