;

Your tiny body leaned in
against mine as you hit me
sobbing, clinging on to
the one who hurt you.

Your fingers entwined around
my waist as the tears rolled;
the droplets down my shirt
but I held you even tighter.

I saw your silhouette against the sunset
it didn’t take long to figure
what the shape of love and
where it is.

We may be fiery hot 
but everything is
soft, delicate
like a feather

I always believed it was fate that you brought me to life when Mother’s Day was drawing near, so that every year I celebrate my birthday and you celebrate Mother’s Day together. 

And you’ll never see this because I am a jar bottled up tight with all my feelings inside I’m too shy to spill, but I hope that you know you matter a lot to me.

Even though I am becoming increasingly hard to communicate with nowadays because I’m always so busy you never stopped revolving around me with care whenever you could, and I can feel it.

I can feel your love radiating even though your birthday present for me wasn’t extravagant, because materialism doesn’t define everything. 

But I hope, I hope I will do you proud even though whatever you said tonight stung me inside because deep down I am not sure if I will ever fulfil that wish of yours.. I hope I will make you proud some other way and still be your precious daughter.

It has been 17 years since I first came into this world, it is not the best place ever but you were always there directly or not to ease the impacts I had to face growing up, and now you are slowly letting me go to explore the vast world outside on my own because we both know that one eventual day you cannot hold my hand anymore.. and as much as I hope it never ever comes I am still scared. I am scared of everything that will happen in the future.

Mother’s Day is a day where mothers are acknowledged worldwide for their contributions, but it should not be the only day we appreciate them for existing. Thank you every day, every second, every moment for your contributions to me, and I hope you have a blessed Mother’s Day. 

When you smile, it’s bittersweet to see the crinkle in your eyes.

But you can’t see that you are small and almighty, capable of the most impossible needs ; that the stars lean down and plant scarlet kisses on your lips in the beam of moonlight, our little shared infinity.

The skies erupt and the shower dampens your spirits and you want to give up but you held on because they contained the same stars that gave you our little infinity.

And we hold on through the sea-storms where a sunny island shall be our destination.

” The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink “

Everything around us is made of small particles that whizz around at incredible speeds. They don’t have time to wait for us because even being a particle has its job to do. 

What more about us?

Every day we get knocked face on with millions of particles, sometimes you feel it as a breeze but it turns to a hurricane. You’re wind swept but you remind yourself you’re outnumbered by singly negligible forces charging against your relatively humongous presence.

And in this busy life where no one has time, the little particles of mine collided into yours. It should get going but they stuck themselves snugly to yours. We tried to separate our particles from their entanglement but somehow our lips met and we stopped trying, and from then we learnt to trust the messages our tiny messengers bring us.

Within our hands that are intertwined our particles whizz around and collide to form bonds, and it is like a tiny giant that simultaneously our hearts start to flutter and our bodies twist and turn to fit each other. 

Your lips and mine are made the same, your heart and mine are meant to stay.

Let’s thank the wind swept particles for the very first time we collided, because now it wouldn’t feel complete without your tiny little bits.

Whenever I went out to play, my mother wanted to know where exactly I was going to be. When I’d come in, she’d call me into her bedroom, take me in her arms, and cover me with kisses. She’d stroke my hair and say, “I love you so much”, and when I sneezed she’d say, “Bless you, you know how much I love you, don’t you?” and when I got up for a tissue she’d say, “Let me get it for you I love you so much,” and when I looked for a pen to do my homework she’d say, “Use mine, anything for you,” and when I had an itch on my leg she’d say, “Is this she spot, let me hug you,” and when I said I was going up to my room, she’d call after me, “What can I do for you I love you so much,” and I always wanted to say, but never said: Love me less.

Darling, don’t think I didn’t see
the streaks of crimson 
running down your cheeks
a mix of blood and tears.

I’ve seen it all
paper cuts and shards of glass
they cut
clean and clear.

Be stronger, the bedroom is tired
of being the place to hold you
when you won’t let 
anyone else do.

Let go, the fears
of embracing the unknown
will eventually
come true.