Search Results for: Poetry


When it is your first love, you tend to depend a lot from story books you’ve read or movies you grew up watching, but neither comes to life when it happens. He doesn’t make you nervous when he touches you, instead you’ll go weak on your knees. He doesn’t tell you “i love u” every night before bed, but he’ll tell you “i love u” when you hate yourself. He doesn’t love your flaws, instead he accepts it. He doesn’t kiss you under the moonlight, but he’ll kiss you in the car when it’s pouring rain outside. He doesn’t...

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POETRY | Mr. Doubt

Image credit: Saatchi Art Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone? To go far away and never come back? Yet here I find you nestled comfortably Deep in my thoughts Slipping through each and every crack Just finding your way back in No matter how I try To shut you out Embedded in my skin There you stay Mr. Doubt Azalia Zaharuddin is a part time writer and full time dreaming linguist who enjoys singing broken tunes to the moon while pursuing her Masters in Translation at University Sains Malaysia. You can find more of her work here....

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Image credit: Alienated Who I am is underappreciated. I said, come, dance with me This place is too colourful for us to be so standstill Dance to my song – I wasn’t always this happy Dance to our song – I was never this free I’d like for us to dance and dance and dance till we pass out If that’s okay with you. I want everything to be okay with you. But you exuded boredom to my face And suddenly I was a star without its glow My head was filled with rage I worked too hard for...

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POETRY | In the Morning After

Image credit: Will you be the one, to draw the curtains, in the morning after? Will you be the one, to brew me coffee, in the morning after? Will you be the one, to draw the sheets closer, in the morning after? Will you be the one. to smile shyly, in the morning after? Will you be the one, to lean in and kiss me, in the morning after? OR Will you be the one, to call it a mistake, in the morning after? Khayma Balakrishnan says; “I am a passionate teacher, and an idealistic writer. I write about the...

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POETRY | The Silent Plea

Image credit: deconstructingyourself The harder the rain poured, The louder she screamed. The wind accelerated with force, Reigniting the once-forgotten reminiscence And it sent her hair flying in various directions. Memories as sharp as a sword bled her heart. The tears burnt through her eye sockets, Weakening her with each squeeze, And of reliving the happier days. With shoulders as heavy as the concrete barriers, She sank to the grassy lawns on her knees. Even in her dreams did his absence taunt her. Regrets rose to the surface, Threatening to burst open like fireworks in the sky. Distance drove...

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