Monthly Archives: April 2016


I was crying on the toilet, bare of any article apart from my skin which trickled with sweat and despair. Tears kept sloping on my cheeks as I gripped my hair at the ends and tried pulling my head apart. I stifled my screams for fear my brother would hear me.
Breath ragged.
Heart cracked.
The slow and accepting pace of the water from the faucet fills the pail with light and escape. Dragging the pail in front of me, I said a solemn goodbye and kissed the water neck-deep—


Staring Contest

A pair of green eyes looked pointedly at me.

Sitting comfortably on my window ledge in a red-knitted sweater and sweat pants, my hair in a messy bun and bowl of oatmeal in hand, I asked the expecting little monster “What?” raising a brow in hopes to intimidate him.

He didn’t speak.

He just kept staring at me while he sat on his snow-kissed bum. His whiskers twitched a bit as his tail propped up and swayed like a bobbly head on the dashboard of a car. Green eyes still regarded me with anticipation.

My tongue rolled to the side of my mouth, bulging from the outside, and matching his stare defiantly, I put the bowl down and shifted my seat. Arms between my legs and hands gripping the ledge, I narrowed my eyes and exacted my gaze on his.

He just sat there and gazed right back, tail – now – curling and unfolding and still maintaining an eerie sort of calm. I could feel pinpricks climbing up my spine. Determined not to show any weakness, I folded my arms on my chest and put on my best bitch face – which consisted of a soft, virgin duckface and currently narrowed eyes.

Nothing happened.

My butt was getting itchy from sitting on the ledge, I took a sideway glance at my bowl of unfinished oatmeal, annoyance crawling up. Groaning, my hands flew up in the air “Fine!” I conceded, jumped down and stomped off to the kitchen.

Upon my return, his eyes had shifted, still looking at me but there was a twinkle that wasn’t there before. I could swear he was smirking at me. Putting his bowl in front of him, he stood up and did an infinity between my legs, purring and mewling and then dug into his breakfast.





When I wake up and look at my room,
When I take a shower and stare in the mirror,
When I walk the streets and pass buildings,
When I get to work and not get anything done,
When I take my coffee and my eyes are all droopy,
When I get off and make my way home,
When I sit on the toilet and do my business,
When I stare at the stars and just be thinking,
When I close my eyes and try to dream,
When I lay in bed and start to weep

It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you,
It’s you, It’s you, It’s you,
It’s you, It’s you,
It’s YOU.

Trust Exercise


I recently received a Facebook message from some anonymous person claiming that my 3 year boyfriend is cheating on me in the U.S.

Of course, my initial response would be disbelief… followed by pain… self-pity and then anger as a normal person would feel. And yet, somehow I stayed at the level of self-pity. It never got to anger (though it did hit remotely close) but never the full-fledged flare of wrath that I usually gave shitty people in my life. And, it really makes you think about the ability of a person to feel.

At the time as I was reading that wretched message: my heart was shattered and I felt a little bit short out of breath, I could feel my muscles tense and then drop as if life wasn’t possible anymore. Over-exaggeration, I know. But in the context of him being my best friend in the world added he’s also my boyfriend. It turned everything I knew to a pulp. But, I never once thought – even in that state of emotional rock-bottom – of hurting him back and getting even. Maybe, it was from all of those years of conditioning and rehearsing We’ll break up eventually but I’ll still love him or maybe, I’m just that kind of person – understanding and self-degenerating. I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about this  for days now and I love him that much is all  I can think about. That I’d been willing to let him off the hook if he was happy (if it were true) and that hurting by myself wouldn’t be so bad. Of course, I didn’t act on it immediately. That would be stupid. So, I asked him straight who the hoe-bag was (Duh, I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at the bitch he shacking up with) and he said they were just friends. I then asked the girl and she said the same thing.

And yes, I was not convinced at first but  in the end I decided to just trust him. As I have in our 7 years of friendship and 3 years of relationship. He has no reason  to lie. (He can’t even lie!) And, this three month of separation won’t work if I keep investigating and doubting him and by trusting him and his words I’m saving myself a lot of effort. That doesn’t mean I’m not jealous or still worried – that’s normal – but I am certain that what I feel for him is strong enough to cut mountains and, with a heart like this, if it ever comes to a situation like that again, I’ll overcome it and I’ll move on.

But, seriously though… Church bells are already ringing. Why the hell am I thinking so negatively?  🙂


At the moment

The strong parched-breeze cast by the sea slaps my face as little waves crackle on the shore of this low tide summer night. I sit by the boulevard, alone… lost in an awry of thoughts and feelings that are slipping imagined claustrophobia into my system like a lazy Monday morning. Overwhelming the senses, it plays tricks on emotions morphing me into a rabid bipolar polar bear hibernating in the season of longer days.

The Hookee and the Hooker


I laundered your clothes,
Cooked you a meal, left you a note, I suppose
I did the dishes, and dusted the house
And – as you wanted – stayed silent as a mouse.

You come home, I seize you for a kiss
hands wrap around me, oh, how I missed this.
I warm your bed, and say I love you. And how
fitting you say you do too, but you always end it with Right Now



Every day I get out of bed,
And you lay there buck-naked…
Something tingles down-under. I read your note,
crumple it, trash it and throw up when you dote

I go to work, not to work
but to see someone else give me a twerk.
And returning to my humble abode, I get another high
By pretending to love you and yank scissors up the sky.