#3. The Cold Moon

I watch you watching the Moon,

through the slits of my curtain

Never enough courage to

talk to you about it.

But as the years went on

the Moon stayed the same,

cold and glaring and grey

while you were so

full of life and warmth

and colour

and I stay

mesmerized by

you.

In tribute of my one of my favourite fictional couples, Lola and Cricket, from Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins!

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#17: The God Next Door

#17: The God Next Door

Oh Dear man Above,

When you open your eyes

and help open his eyes,

I swear to you, I will keep him

happy, every minute of my life.

I will write little notes 

of motivation,

of happiness

to make him smile all day,

of love,

to make sure he knows

how much he means to me,

so that he never forgets me. 

So, the Man Above,

Open your eyes, please

and open his too. 

#10: The waltz at midnight

#10: The waltz at midnight

I’ll try making this a happy one.

lighthouse at night

“Hey,” you whisper to me,

“I have to show you something.”

I open my eyes, slowly,

adjusting to the darkness,

and to the shape kneeling by my bedside.

I can see the mischievous glint in your eye

as you eye me putting on some warm clothes. 

We drive;

we drive so far that it would’ve been sunrise,

but when you said, “We’re here.”  

it was still dark. 

You held my hand

And led me through a maze of stairs 

before reaching a door. 

You smiled that mischievous smile

which promised me a wonderful time.

And it sure did, because

When you opened the door, 

the sky was infinite. 

The stars were spilled out like a packet of silver glitter

and the moon forgot that there was a party

and the sound of the sea vibrated through my bones

and to you.

As if it wasn’t perfect already,

you took my hand, placed it on your shoulder,

took the other in your hand,

while your other hand rested on my hips. 

You whispered, “Happy birthday,”

against my mouth, so soft that I could barely hear it,

and we began to sway,

to the sound of the water lapping against the rocks. 

To the sound of the wind rustling the trees. 

To the sound that the stars made, 

heard by everyone who wants to listen.

#7: An echo and A reminder

I’m going to stab myself to death writing this.

Another poem, yet again inspired by another one of my favourite fictional couples, Eleanor and Park.

I miss the sound of your footsteps,

early in the morning, bare footed

making breakfast,

in the evening when

I eagerly anticipate your return

The soft muffled sounds in the middle of the night

for a sugared midnight snack.

I miss the sound of your laughter,

the eye-blinding smile,

the twinkle in your eyes when you have a surprise for me,

the look of amazement when you find the note,

which I wrote everyday for you.

If you stepped into my house today,

it will be empty; lonely; sad;

without the splash of red, which follows you everywhere,

except for the hundreds of small, colourful notes

that I wrote to you

for each day that I missed you.