Painful Love
-Ayaka
28th June 2016

I was holding a cup of coffee 
and thinking about you
Every hot sip
was burning my skin
Reminded me of my encounter 
with something scalding hot,
something that is lost,
something that is mistrusted.

But you're still wandering
here and there for another body;
not soul
Everything is material for you.

Fumes of my disturbing thoughts
will take a form of dark black cloud
And will drench me
with its acidic rain
that will only give me scratches,
Intolerable pain, unstoppable tears,
ugly blisters;
that always remind me of your love.

That was never Love
Never!


I Miss 
-Ayaka
10th June 2016

I remember this girl
who laughed and cried for no reason
at all
the girl
who believed in love
full moon and kindness.

I remember this
girl
who smiled at herself in the mirror
wearing no make-up at all
The girl
who chased her dreams
on a blue bicycle and dreamt of wolves

I remember this girl
because
I was this girl before you told me
you didn't love me
anymore

I remember this girl
and now
everyday
I miss that girl
more than anyone in the world.


Sorry I Cut
-Ayaka
10th June 2016

Emotional twisted with rage
Trapped inside my low self-esteem
I just couldn't break free from this cage
It's not as easy as it may seem

Gazing upon the dark sky everyday
Because the sun refused to glow
There's no light coming my way
This darkness inside me, you'll never know







They give me a stare and start to frown
Nobody seems to care or understand
They laugh at me like I'm some kind of clown
Rejection all along so where do I stand?

You want me to see beautiful things in life
And rejoice the moment for a while
But how could I?
When I'm the field of strife
And there's no reason for me to carve a smile

You said the razor is not my only friend
And you made me promise not to cut
But this misery should come to an end
Baby, I'm sorry I cut
And now I'm closing my eyes shut.

Okay
How could I expect for you to stay, when you are so brilliant that the mere shadow of you dazzles me?

-Ayaka
14th Feb 2016

The rat-tat-tat of the rainfall peppering down on the foggy pane of my bedroom window forces me to reach into my bedside table for my cheapest pair of earbuds. While I have often felt that the quick, sharp pangs of rain on glass windows to be a calming sound, tonight it sounds too much like your heartbeat for comfort. In the end, I choose Mozart's Symphony Number 40 hoping that it’s quick and sharp notes of excitement -- or perhaps panic -- would lull my waking mind into comatose sleep. But as the morning sun rises sleepily from behind a dreary horizon blanketed with fog, sending the colours of the sunrise cascading through the window, I rise wearily knowing that sleep has once again evaded me.

Despite the repetitious thrum of the strings in the symphony, I could not get your heartbeat out of my mind. I groped my way into the kitchen, my phone left lonely at my bedside. I smell the coffee, and I hear the pat pat of my mother's knee against the kitchen table; I nearly feel the movement as she clears her throat, her high pitched voice resembling the light chirping of a baby sparrow.

                         But I'm breaking up with you.

While my senses experience these onslaughts, I cannot feel them. The daze that your absence has left me in has pulled a blanket over my heart, cocooning it in the shadows of its own emptiness. It only just manages to hold the broken, bleeding pieces together, soaked with the blood that leaks from the torn, expanding gap in my soul.

I always hated water because I imagined it tasted like nothing. This was something you hated about me, but as I pour the coffee down my throat I realize that the coffee tastes like less than water. While you can feel the atoms of the water on your mouth, buzzing with the filtered taste if calcium and chlorine, it is as if I have become an abstract object. The word interacts with me, but I can no longer interact with it.

                   You're an amazing woman, an amazing person. And you will go far.

This is what the world feels like now, as I drag myself back and forth, between the kitchen and my permanent spot on the couch. The days no longer feel like days. It is as if we have finally gotten our wish. Time has stopped; you are no longer with me to enjoy it.

                    If all the people in this world were like you, it would be a better place.

I cling onto you desperately. You no longer cross my mind. You live in it. My tears are leaving trail marks down my arms, and when the lit camel menthol cradled between my fingers on my right-hand makes contact with my thigh, I only jerk it back when my mother comes into the room. Her concerned face drawn to the shifting of my legs to cover the burns.

I can feel nothing but the memory of your fingerprints.

Even your memories dazzle me.

                        But I can't love you.


Somewhere between my second pack of cigarettes and the second season of Criminal Minds a car draws my attention. It isn't due to the rattle of the rusted frame, or the incessantly annoying screech of the brakes. It is because of the subtle stream of rap music that beats from the car.

The sunlight exposes the entire link on my short, black ankle boots that are propped up on the dash of the car. The constructions work nearby blurs my vision as the Green Park exit nears. With my black leggings and Pink hoodie, I am one Starbuck's latte away from being a stereotypical rich girl. I can feel your music in my caves that are leaned against the dash - the booming, deep beat of Kevin Gates. I feel the words more than I hear them. Instead, I hear the jingle of your laugh. I am awestruck by you. You have striped out hoodie and dawn your typical white t-shirt. Your dark brown hair has gotten longer than your normal number 2 buzz cut and I can start to count the greys that pepper your head again. The sunlight refracts off your pale skin and bounces to your light blue eyes.

                             You're not the one for me.

I would call them sky blue but that isn't quite true. Your blue is a lighter blue. The kind of blue you feel on a cold, foggy winter morning right before a snow comes in. 

That is your kind of blue.

You sing the lyrics to Really, Really with a laugh that surpasses your vocal cords and spread throughout your entire body. When you laugh, your entire being is moved to laugh with you. I see your soul shine, sending sparks through my bloodstream. 

How can I not love you? I am awestruck by you. Of all of God's creations, you are by far my favourite.

                             I would like to be your friend very much.

I see the reflection of my tears in the window before I feel them, pulled back to reality by the pressure of my own bladder. How could I expect you to stay, when you are so brilliant that the mere shadow of you dazzles me?

They tell me that it will fade; this ache that has made me a permanent part of my being. Then eventually I would stop loving you, but I can't even fall back into my old habits. Cruising dating sites are only draining, and inevitably which each log in I go back to see the first time you viewed my profile. I gaze with a dazed expression at our mutual match notification. When I read your profile, I hear it in the low tone of your voice - the one you use to hide all emotion, the one you use to blanket yourself to protect from the world outside.

                           I still like that NRN girl from Sydney, but it’s not that simple.

My grandmother stands over me, turning on the heater to beat away the onslaught of cold from outside. I'm not sure when she even got here, to be honest, but I am curled under the blankets, hoping-praying-for the blackness of dreamless sleep. I am not sure why, but when the tears keep flowing I garble out, "When I dream, I dream of his skin. Not just the way it feels, but how it sounds when I run my hands over it. I remember the difference between the texture of his face and the texture of his hands. I can still smell him in my bedroom. I dream about, in the days he would leave me after our visits, I would lay in bed and I could still smell him. He lingered. When I dream, I dream about the brightness of his smile. I dream about how he looked, leaned back in his office chair with his arm tucked behind his head. The white shirt tugged against his muscles. He laughed and his entire body shakes. I dream about the way his body fits against mine. I dream about the way he hugged me. I dream about the way he held me as we drifted to sleep. I dream about it all. He lives inside my head."

                           I'm sorry.

"Oh honey," her head drops, shaking as she turns away, "You're in love."

"If this is love," I mutter into the couch, "I don't want it."


                            Okay.