"She is teaching you how to spin synthetic starlight." (a poem for you)

What a lovely, relaxing week this fall break has been—filled with sunlight & binge-reading & hanging out with Hachii (who is slightly sad & neglected when school is on). Also, some productivity—hello, NaNoWriMo & literary project planning!

I must admit that I am not 100% sure how I feel about this piece—written in the depths of a thunderstorm during one of these Singaporean monsoon season afternoons, sparking with love & static electricity—but I truly hope that you enjoy it. As always, do drop by the comments section below; kind words & constructive criticism are equally welcome.

Have a beautiful weekend. I will see you once more on Monday! xx


Lovesong to the Coming Storm

she holds up the sky with one streetlight hand,

clutches your heart in the other. too dark
to make out fragile, handle with care, and so she

tears you apart before you can taste
the power outage. kisses you back together,

sky-stuff on her lips and then on yours.
her footsteps give rhythm to the thunder, and

you love her louder than this neon-screaming night,
so deep your bones ache with lightning song.

she is teaching you how to spin synthetic starlight.
she is dragging you headfirst into a rebellion named joy.

she is slow dancing with you on the outskirts
of a city sleeping off one too many heartbreaks,

and all you know is her and the sky, her and the sky,
her and the sky, her and the sky, her and the sky, her

and the endless singing sky.