With every poem I write (or every attempt at something that vaguely resembles a poem), I'll think to myself, "I'm going to get it right this time." But it seems I'll never get it right. And maybe that's beauty in itself huh? :P
I am beautiful without you.
Why is everything that drops, sad?
What about perspiration?
Bodies collide into one another
And fall into pieces, limbs entangled,
Limbs entwined together.
Yet the rain smears everything into a blur,
A lovely blur of formless shadows and dreamy landscapes.
"Rain, rain, rain, come again another day,
Little children want to play, in the rain, rain, rain..."
Footsteps. Tripping. One over the other.
I see colours in this alternative sea.
I see myself in every reflection,
Passing gestures and sideway glances.
I see a path in the stormy haze
Of sand-coloured memories.
I see a girl without an umbrella,
A girl without a song to sing,
A girl in the drizzle, chaos within chaos,
Trying to veil the cavity where the soul used to be.
"There's a rainbow on the road.
No doubt from the reflection
From the puddle of water,
But it's still the same."
I see you, telling me,
"You're always lost in your own world."
You're right, you're always right.
But I am beautiful like this,
Without you to hold me down,
Without you to look down on me,
To rape me of everything I could ever be,
To infest my thoughts, my words, my actions,
With your thoughts, your words, your actions.
I am beautiful like this,
Without your presence, without your stench,
To smudge the colours of my little little world,
Where the leaves twirl down from the trees like snow
(Because there's no snow in Singapore),
And the sun shines a radiant beam
that causes my whole body to glow,
To glow a bright golden glow,
And I stare at my silhouette, tall and dark, and think,
"This is what I used to be"
Right before bursting into flames.