where are you? i’m tired searching for you.

— i wish to find you soon // tans

you should’ve warned me about the damage you were about to cause before coming.

— tans

i knew we were going to end one day because i’ve already learned not to believe in forever.

— nothing lasts forever // tans

Wish upon a star

Once upon a shooting star

A green young lass laid eyes

‘This is how wishes are born’, she said

‘When stars decide to die.’

She dreamt wide and dreamt afar

Of ruby kisses and pale blue skies,

Of buttered caramel on fresh brown bread

And silent chamomile smiles.

A love that holds no bar,

She said, one that brings no lies.

A clear-crystal conscience at night stead

And a sleep that bears no sighs.

As I walk through this stone and tar

Strength to my sinews and thighs

The gaze that knows exactly what’s ahead

Expertly slicing through every guise.

Faith in my convictions, oh yonder star!

And thoughts woven and wise

A lily pad, at death, to rest my head

And to wake up to paradise.

‘Oh dear’ exclaimed the falling star

‘Who painted your wit with lies?’

These ephemeral hopes upon which you are fed

But there are no hands rolling the dice.

You sit dreaming with your eyelids ajar

But pay attention to this advice

Because reality is like the silver thread

Which will close in on you like a vise.

Love is fickle, just because people are

And love isn’t life’s grand prize.

Falling out of love is so easy a tread

Sometimes you’ll be the first to say goodbye.

Your beliefs, my dear, can inflict scars

Don’t ever try to hold on too tight

You will see sickness and stand by death beds

And suckle spirits to forget the cries

Not one path but millions stretch afar

And winding, your true destiny belie

Look at me, helpless in my own fall

So how can I help you survive?

I want to know the real you, you say
Opening my mind’s door, I show you the way.
The initial path is a sprightly jaunt
Coloured with childhood memories and favorite haunts.
Of blowing rainbow bubbles and chasing glitterbugs
Connecting stars like dots, lazing on hammocks.
And yet, when you walk still, the air gets chilly
The music, slows, stills, an eerie soliloquy.
The shades seem washed out (you pretend not to notice)
And find some forgotten patch of sunshine to shift your focus.
You mask the hesitation in your steps, that unsure sway
But I’ve known the signs (Oh how familiarly!), so I know it anyway.
And so we walk hand in hand, the darkness slowly sets
The hurt, the pain, like unpaid debts.
You trip on thoughts, forgotten like unfinished sketches
And skin your knee on my unpolished edges.
The roar of a million ideas whizzing like bees
Make you cover your ears and your brain freeze.
The walls close in, leave you breathless
(Your eyes unfocused, your gaze helpless)
I try to make you see, as the patterns go round and round
But your fist on my hand tightens painfully, as I realize you’ve lost your ground.
The effort of holding on to your mask is getting overwhelming
The noise is getting louder, your patience is wearing thin.
And amidst them all, you hear footsteps
My demons awakening, shaking off cobwebs.
With one last look to me, you take off running
(There’s an ache in my heart, even though I’d seen it coming)
You stumble your way out, lungs burning for air
Holding on to the walls, to the things about which you pretended to care.
And after you’ve beat your retreat, hasty and sore
You turn to look at my colors, and don’t find them beautiful anymore.
So, you turn and walk away, mourning your careless wish come true
And my demons laugh, at the bit of my darkness, that you now carry with you.

I’m certain that when you leave this world
You leave behind traces of your being
In the rush of flavour on your daughters tongue
As an original plum parfait recipe
And sultry whispers in your husband’s ears
As your favourite tune on the radio
In your best friend’s lazy thoughts
As a forgotten book recommendation
That she has finally gotten around to
And on every page of your son’s notebook
Curling the ’S’, just the way you taught him to
Your kindness, as your mother feeds the pigeons
Re enacting the times that you did
In the little pearls that mists their eyes
Upon realising the mysteries you hid.

Sometimes I stop and ask myself why
Why it had to be you and no one else
On moments that my eyes come to rest
On faces more chiseled and handsome
Than yours could ever hope to be
When I taste minds sharp enough to cut
With voices deep enough to cradle
I wonder why my heartbeat never dances
And my chest never twinges and aches
The way it melts to your fragrance
And why the blue eyes and the green
Don’t steal my gaze and hold it
Like your soft, ordinary brown does
And why my highly sophisticated brain
Shirks off logical whispers of caution
Taking to the skies, a bird and its first flight.

there are these girls
with flowing golden hair radiating against their vibrant auras on a sunset along the shore
and those girls,
with icicles in their stares who spoke sentences that leave you with a frostbite

there are summer girls and winter girls;

and she’s more of a summer girl;

i can see why you fell for her- the sun- and all the forest fires she’s started in the crevices of your paperheart, torches lighting up every time you hold her hand
of course who can forget the orange glow the world around gets every time her lips are against yours?
she’s the epitome of a perfect sky capturing all the gleam you’ve ever and never thought of

then comes the winter girl

a hundred and one warnings about her have been told
number one: she’s crystalline and soon you’ll be nothing but jagged cracks
number two:she’s not as pure as snow is
number three: you do not want to turn into a hypothermic misanthropy so run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run

yet somehow underneath the layers of her icy composure lie delicate snowflake structures. you get a glimpse of what’s underneath the tip of the iceberg

and she proved the warnings wrong one at a time
it’s like you’re iceskating for the first time, tripping, but she’s there to catch you just in time. she’ll remind you of the giddiness of the snowball fights you had with your childhood friends all those decembers ago. being with her is as right as a warm cup of chocolate on the first snowfall
and you dwell in her chilling comfort once the sun vanishes, taking away your summer girl

but in the end,
you still choose to end up with your summer girl and the bronze sparkling moments
leaving the wintergirl caught up in her blizzards in reckless abandon , existence crumbling

and i understand why
for who would choose having no permanent residence over a fully furnished home?

but then i should have told you from the start,the secret:
you shan’t choose between those girls
or even turn them into something but just a plain casualty
because summer girls’ flames will engulf your whole being until you’re robbed of the capacity to blow out the candles
you’ll strike all the matches you can find just so the love will never turn lukewarm
and you’ll thaw the winter girl’s frozen soul even if it numbs you to the core

these girls, they’re powerful gypsies,
personifications of destructive illustrious love

-caela m.

bridge watchers

it’s just how it was.

and so things ended up the way they did.

we were quite a pair;

what with my impulsiveness and your rationality.

as i took a step back, each time i recognized the danger in your eyes, flickers unleashed.

this rendezvous meant meeting somewhere a little nearer than halfway,

not without leaving a breadcrumb trail of weariness.

see, we didn’t get around to the part of burning bridges-yellow and orange and blue flames standing tall. neither did we try dousing ourselves in gasoline just so it could stay alive, sparks like flirtatious moths attune to life.

all that we’ve resorted to was crossing the bridge and rightly so. for all we ever wanted was to learn the language the city lights spoke upon the ripples delving into atlantis’ reach. there wasn’t a need to get past the platform, plainly standing there already felt right.

this is what those weeks were all for. open-door kisses and treacherous things in the dark.

the laughing fits and slow dancing in your balcony at 2am, acoustics faint on your speakers were just ways we came up with in order to kill time.

things ended up the way they did.

your messages left unopened, my secrets i’ve bared onto your lips and your tongue was the ink you’ve etched yours with on my skin. for a while it meant more than that, we meant more than just a jet’s smoke trail of fleeting stars crash landing upon reality. we could only get to pretend for so long that the crash wouldn’t occur even as we’ve made an agreement that we’d still be alright and remain with an exchange of warm smiles and inviting eyes like the first encounter. but pretending could only sit so well in my chest but it can’t quite counteract this particular feeling rushing with intensity, an outrage that’s only worsened as those exchanges are kept/go on.

so forgive me if i couldn’t keep contact, if all your calls go to voicemail-and i try not to listen to them but ultimately fail. the only compromise i aid to is to not reply.

that’s just how it was.

things ended up the way they did.

the passionate flames surrounded us keeping a close watch so they wouldn’t engulf us

we were just bridge watchers content on not going beyond nor under

-“bridge watchers.”

-caela m.

not like other girls

was a title i coveted

but never earned.

i wrote off makeup,

i stopped talking about fairies and mermaids

to research superheroes.

i quit ballet in favor of taekwondo

but even in a plain white dobok and a brown tti,

dripping sweat and exhaustion

i was not enough.

i was vengeful in my frustration

notorious for the blood on my gloves—

we weren’t supposed to aim for the nose

but i was smaller and younger

and a good actress.

deep down i think i knew

i would never be like the girls

who weren’t like other girls,

and that made me wonder

what about other girls was so bad,

and why there were no boys

who weren’t like other boys.

i expected other girls to be what i’d seen on tv

and read in books,

but instead i was met with compliments,

kind eyes and genuine voices,

proclaiming boys were to be seen and not heard.

i learned that i was pretty

and i looked cute in pink

and the school confiscates pocketknives

but keys fit between your fingers.

i fell in love with other girls

when they took his sneer as a declaration of war,

unleashed their tongues like rabid dogs

in defense of girls they’d never spoken to

and flashed sharp grins

when their words bit hard enough

to reward them with tears.

i watched in awe

as other girls filed their nails into claws,

drove needles through their ears and noses

and lined their eyes with intimidation.

the judgement of their fathers

weighed down their bare shoulders

and adorned their short skirts

but every time he voiced it

their scissors took another inch off the bottom.

they were feral, and territorial,

they were disobedient and wanted blood,

they dressed how they wanted

and if you looked and didn’t like it

that was your problem.

i failed at not like other girls

because i met other girls

and i remembered my breath was fire

and my teeth dripped venom,

my hair was a nest of snakes

and my gaze was stone;

they knew i was a gorgon

years before i did

and now i’ve finally

become one.

cast your eyes upon me

and fall into devotion,

revel in the masterpiece that is my being

and wait helplessly

as addiction crawls up your limbs,

long for me,

touch me

and find that my skin

was carved from marble,

wonder

in your love-drunk adoration

which sculptor could have hewn

something so masterful

stand before me

and discover why

my gaze entrances the sun

and my voice bewitches the moon,

perceive me

and empathize

with the planets

as they compete to capture my interest

and the northern lights

as they pray for my attention

brush your hands along my thighs

and know

that my flesh is coiled lightning

and my bones contain the east wind,

grasp my hands

and bear witness

to the vast expanse of past and future

written in the swirls of my fingerprints

and the lines of my palms,

press your ear to my chest

and behold thunder.

caress the folds of my stomach

and know that i am made of mountains

that my muscles were knitted

from the same roots

that strangle boulders

and win,

learn the map of my veins

and be warned;

inside them surges saltwater

stolen from the deepest trenches of the sea

i cry seafoam

and spit the blood of men

who wronged me.

the universe is an artist

that makes itself in my image

every new nebula another attempt

at painting the wildfire that rages within me

and when my body does decay

all creation will rot

beside me.