It's The Distance, I Think.It was sitting on our kitchen counter-Brown glazed and curved, like her-Perched next to the microwave.I thought it would best holdHer spatula and my two bamboo spoons.She filled it with yellow tulips andPink carnations and hydrangea blossoms andTold me to "Get your own spoon vase"With bells in her voice andHer cheeks dimpled and her eyes crinkled,And I wrapped my arms around her waist andPunished her back-sass by tickling her ribs untilWe were a jumbled mess, strewnAcross the tile floor- with flushed cheeks andNot a worry in the world. These days, the curved brown jarSits next to my stove top andHolds my two bamboo spoons,Three of my own spatulas and a metal whisk.The tiles have been replaced with hardwoodAnd my eyes never crinkleAnd I can't remember the way hydrangeas smell.
Throwback ThursdayYou know what I miss?The simple daysOf aimless buses and trains,Like magic carpetsThat helped us to escape,If only for a little while.I miss the endless walksThat led to hours ofShopping center shenanigans--Spinning in desk chairs,Petting that little blind kitten,And reading anythingFrom cheesy joke booksTo Frost's melancholic verse.I miss cheap deli lunches,Discounted coffee house milkshakes, andMidnight conversations on the swingsAt your old elementary school,With the moon so bright thatI could see your T-shirt.Remember that time when, hot chocolate in hand,We followed the soundOf live fiesta musicSailing on the hollow winter airUntil we nearly crashedA Hispanic family's party?Or what about the momentsOf heartbroken silenceWhen we discoveredThe ruins of a pianoAt the churchThat was once your daycare?I remember climbing, barefoot,Halfway up Ricky's fenceTo watch his illegal fireworksAnd stealing Mom's carIn the dead of night,Just for store-bought C
Edward.I think, At some point,Everyone dreams of finding..An Edward.Someone whose name you call, or whisper.And he's right there waiting.Someone who hums a lullaby,And holds you close, as you drift off.Someone who seems to just glitter, in the Sunlight,Whose eyes are often Topaz,Warm,And Reassuring.Someone who takes you to dinner,And ignores the pretty waitress.Someone who follows you,Watches you always,Secretly, Just to be sure..You're always okay.Someone Romantic,Yet has a good sense of humor.Someone Ancient, Yet Young.Who'll save your life, No matter what.Who cries when you're injured.Someone who cleans out even the deadliest wounds,However impossibly hard it may be.Someone to take you to your prom,Dispite your complaints,Who teaches you to waltz,As you stand on his feet.Someone who just knows when it's time.When forever really means forever.And takes you away,For years to come....
My Love is SicknessMy love is utter sickness,I'll have you obsessed, until you're ruined inside.And you will crawl and I will have you beg,I swear I'll become the very voice in your head.Oh you will suffer and you will sweat,I will have you lusting for more than you get!Losing it all, as lose your mind,You're numb to this pain, so take this pleasure of mine;Now open it up so you can give me more.Close up your life and quickly lock up the door.Or i'll have you spinning with my every touch,And even when I use you it just won't be enough.Your body desires and I'm letting it know,You're already gone before I let you go.My love is an utter sickness,I'll teach you to love your very moment of weakness,I'll teach you to crawl and I will make you beg!I'll teach you what it's like to be mine in bed.-Word of Chen, 16th May 2014
I Know You Hate Me Now But...I Know You Hate Me Now But...:Just give me a chance alright, I'll explainTo me, you're the girl that I notice everything about.The way you laugh, the way you smile;We got along great back then, even if we don't now.And to be honest, I miss that...You had the most lovely silky smooth hairYou'd give me the cutest anime girl smileI wish I'd talked to you more about Manga,Hell you got me started on the whole thing.You were fantastic at drawing tooMan I was always jealous of that talent,And I loved your drawings, like I once loved you.I wish that you could have been a professional.I would have bought your book every month y'know...You encouraged me to write.Back when my stories were shit,Back when my poems were still baby's rhymes.You taught me not to give in and I was grateful.Now just let me finish alright?I know that you won't speak to me.That's okay, I admit to being an ass,But the reason that I'm writing this poem to nobod
What is Love?What is Love?:What is love but a simple impulseAn electrical signal that comes from the brain.What is love but a debilitating sicknessIt weakens us utterly from the waves of pain.To what do we owe the pleasure of loveDoes it come from a matter of personal taste?To what do we owe the pain of loveAs though all of our efforts are put to waste...Why do we seek to fall in loveIs it because we fear a death alone?Or perhaps there is a darker reasonOne for which we need to atone...Rationalise carefully, your reason for lovePerhaps the truth is deeper than you think.Is your partner a genuine object of affectionOr simply a piece of the missing link?Love can be a wonderous anchorIt brings us down to the safety of sanityBut abuse it once, and you will sufferSuch is the gift of humanity..."Yet even with these weighty words, I am still a slave to love..."-Chen Yuan Wen, 25th April 2012
Waking NightmareYeah ummm... The Poetry is the picture... Sorry Nothing to see here in the box...