Saturday, October 25

as she lets it wash over her
she breathes in your scent, of comfort
you feel like home
it is soft and gentle, ever endless
tender marks and creases
that she could never reach to pacify
old, old, worn out wanting
it has a new face
one of a stranger.
there is black and there is the absent white
she stands unaware
that she is neither there, nor anywhere.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. haha oh no i can't take credit for all the photos. recent ones are not mine. but thank you :)

    i love it that you write poetry too. that's rare, for sure. especially amongst the malaysian youth, sigh. hehe.

    will be reading yours often as well.