Sacrilege

Cast aside your misgivings,

Your minion I’m surely not.

Neither am I unworthy

Of the pedestal you so gallantly adore.

Cast away, cast away

Your aspersions; they shall burn

In the blaze of my resolve.

I’m not scorned, neither do I seek vengeance

I only seek to silence

The scheming voice in your mind,

That blinds you to my makings.

Henceforth I break your bonds.

Do I see you tremble?

Behind the façade of bravado,

Hear, hear, your diffidence shows!

Do not make me reiterate

My avowal to turn my fate around.

I dare you, I shall not be buried.

...........................................................................................................

More thorns than petals much, eh? Oh dear. 

Unnamed, Unknown...

“I wish I could be like you.”

Words. Meaningless, utterly hypocritical. Do they even know what they are talking about?

She could have stated her mind. She simply chooses to smile in response.

“You’re flattering me.”

She knows they only want to be at the same receiving end as her. So does everyone else.

...

It’s strange. Fear is all pervasive. And more than anything else, it is the fear of rejection that permeates through the strongest wills.

No wonder, the dying art of being oneself...

She is no exception to the rule. The flame of accomplishment has engulfed her entirely.

But she knows who she is.

It takes her a mere glance in someone’s eyes to figure they had already traded their souls for the drudgery of a cut-throat life.

“You...you really don’t know what you truly desire, do you?”

A sigh, often a sad smile in response. Voice tingling with untold emotions.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

...

Victim. An ugly word – speaking of injustice and aggravation meted out from the hands of others.

Who dares to call destiny the victimiser?

 “No one gets you. How can you be so calm in the face of such provocation?”

She smiles yet again.

“I don’t believe in others controlling me. I call the shots.”

...

“Who has the time to waste after such frivolities?”

She sighs. Those blind, ignorant creatures, audacious enough to call something as basic as pleasure, 

scratch that, satisfaction as ‘frivolous’.

They don’t know when their own grave will catch up with them, forcing them to lie forever in the cold gloom while they had hardly begun to clutch at the warm sunshine.

“Perhaps you would live...if only others chose to do the same.”

...

Eyes closed, breath withdrawn...she tiptoes, arms stretched wide, hair fluttering in the breeze.

The world before her is still, bathed in the effervescent glow of nature.

She’s a part of that world.

She doesn’t belong here.

“If only I look as good as...”

She laughs mockingly. This time she doesn’t mince her words.

“Look within or you will be another living mannequin.”

...

“Help me. I’m lost.”

She searches their eyes, ‘the window to the soul’. The fire has died.

She looks away.

“Even if I were to help...you would be lost again.”

...

“I need another chance.”

She pins them with a questioning look.

“Chance? What did you with the one already given?”

Obstinacy finds its way here too.

“We haven’t lived for ourselves. No one does.”

“Then why need another life?”

...

“I don’t want to die.”

“Why?”

“Because, because...there’s no reason why one would leave life!”

Her eyes are downcast as she mulls.

“You’re in love with yourself.”

Confusion. Puzzlement. Isn’t one supposed to love oneself first?

She smiles, softly, gently. Like an angel. Like a fairy.

“You’re not the role, as memorable as it might be.”

The role is cast away. The essence glimmers.

Her eyes close.

...........................................................................................................

I wonder how much it makes sense. Oh well, but I had to post this. 

Love Enchained

Wound my heart, sear my soul,

Did I not claim I was yours to take?

Like a lovely rose drawing blood

With its piercing thorns,

Your embrace stings me to the core,

And yet…I remain where I am.

Your insidious lust binds me

I sing of chaste love, blithely

Ignorant of those bonds

That ravage me of my strength

Only to be immersed

In the inferno of your self.

Flames tinged with the dying blush

Of fading memories, speaking of days

Humane and generous in their wake,

Your reflection is distorted,

Your spirit is singed.

In your pursuit of dominance,

Making me a willing slave

Would my demise sate your thirst?

Nothing more would please

My twisted yearning for vengeance

Than to see you lost

In self-immolation

Oh, would I not forsake my fragile existence!

To see you soaked in my life-blood,

So near and yet so far…

Your endeavour could never make me yours.

..........................................................................................................

No, I didn't think I could write something like this. Call it expiation, call it catharsis, I don't know how to define it. 

That said, I shall only reappear when the rains are kind enough to nurture the sapling of creativity to the fullest. :)

Nemesis

Words aren’t needed, yet

Who said you would escape quietly?

Under a guise of adoration,

You cast your spell.

Did you take me to be so weak,

So as to simply buckle

Beneath your intimidation?

Your rivalry would have been an honour,

But I’m content to smile back.

You don’t realise, do you?

The favour you did me.

Your resilience burns through

A pervasive aura of merciless strength.

It is nothing but one of your tactics

Leaving me defensive.

I envisage you standing over my shoulder,

Smirking in delight,

For each step I take, each word I speak…

Someday, I will be where you are.

...........................................................................................................

I'm still not happy with my writing. *sighs* 

Other than that, I realise that words have power. I must be careful with my author's notes in future. 

The Insightful Charm

The translucent, curved pendant gleamed like the moon, reflecting greyish undertones from its circular countenance.

“Do you like it?”

I nodded, too overwhelmed to respond. “It’s chalcedony, isn’t it?”

Another nod confirmed my guess.

The medallion dangled from the delicate silver chain I held in my hand, working it to and fro.

“Here, let me,” he offered, taking the ornament from my hands and tying it around my neck.

I sighed. “Can I thank you enough?”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. You needed a charm.”

I was too caught up in observing how my new possession sparkled and glimmered in the fading sunlight, until he leaned in to whisper, “Sometimes, that is all one needs, eh?”

For a moment I was taken aback, not comprehending his words.

He pointed towards the glittering pendant. I looked at it closely, until it struck me as to how it seemed to take on a life of its own, becoming the sun itself as rays shone over its surface.

I couldn’t distinguish any colour.

He sighed, more so out of contemplation than disquiet. “You see, had it been any other stone, it would have drawn on the light to enhance its own beauty, whereas this little piece simply becomes a medium for the light to shine.”

I saw the meaning as clear as day. Glancing towards him in astonishment, I managed to utter. “You certainly don’t mean…”

He nodded, smiling. “Why did I say that it suits you? Because you yourself are like this piece of chalcedony.”

...

Lame, I know. But the fact that school is about to begin, tomorrow, does this to my writing, I suppose. In any case, I did want to flesh out the analogy of the pendant, but neither can I find the words, nor I have the inclination to do so. Maybe later, perhaps. 

Matrimonial Affairs

She had always been able to figure what she wanted to do, despite the veil of indecisiveness that she wore just to give others the benefit of doubt.

But today...she didn’t know if she could withstand the consequences if she chose either way.

The sparkling diamond set in a slender gold ring wasn’t making it any easier.

She was being asked to marry. Him. The sheer intensity of the moment, as he knelt down and proposed her, shook her from head to toe.

Say, how would it be if we were married?

He couldn’t get more obvious than this. She should have known better.

“We have been living together for, what, like two years? Why do you want to marry me?”

A slightly offended look crossed his face and she bit her tongue. Oh dear, that sounded completely wrong.

“No, scratch that. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to marry you, but, it’s…it’s…isn’t it a bit too sudden?” No sooner did she say than her hand went to her mouth in shock, her eyes wide and beguiling – the very picture of confused innocence.

He laughed. “Don’t tell me the idea of marriage has never crossed your mind.”

She looked into his eyes, surprised. In her frenzy, she had not noticed the subtle signs that showed how equally difficult it was for him. The hand that held the ring shook in the slightest, so did his gaze which wavered every now and then.

She took a moment to ponder on his remark. Of course the idea had come to her: which girl doesn’t dream of marriage? Nevertheless, fantasies apart, she had honestly not reckoned that their relationship would come to this threshold, not now at least.

However, as she looked at him, taking in his profile as he continued to kneel, she knew without a doubt how fortunate she was. Considering their diverse backgrounds and how their personalities were poles apart, she had never expected him to be so adjusting, even compromising. The very fact that he was proposing to her of all people; this simple, unassuming girl who could be said to be living in the shadow of her glorious counterparts (whom he knew, obviously) was admirable.

She looked away, slightly smiling. “I cannot dishonour your esteemed proposition, can I now?”

                                                                                 

A sigh of relief escaped him but he didn’t spare her a retort. “You’re not obliging me.”

“Of course not,” she affirmed as she knelt down to the same level as him, extending her hand.

They looked into each other’s eyes as he gently slipped the ring onto her finger.

No words were needed.

Afflictions of Solitude

The door opens into darkness. She peers into the void, trying to discern any trace of a normal, bustling home.

“I’m home,” she whispers. Silence greets her in response.

She sighs as she kicks off her shoes and hangs the keys over the rack. Closing the door to her room only adds to the finality of the quiet that pervades through the whole house.

She leans against the door, closing her eyes. The wood against her skin does nothing to reassure her.

“Reassurance for what?” she wonders. Reassurance for the fact that she was a victim of her circumstances – it wasn’t her doing that it was her mother’s critical behaviour, her father’s temperamental, volatile tendencies that wreaked havoc on this fragile castle of dreams they called their ‘home’?

She ambles towards the dressing table, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror.

Against the soft moonlight, her complexion is ashen. Her eyes are wide, speaking more of vulnerability than innocence. Her lip slightly trembled and imagined chills pricked her skin, making her shiver.

“Is this how everyone sees me?”

Frail, weak, prone to anguish. A helpless child trapped in not so benign environs, where at each step her makings of a genius are refuted and buried under the increasing weight of insecure acquaintances and selfish motives.

Or was it all her thinking?

Her hand extended towards the mirror, the fingers lightly caress the outline of her face.

Oh, what not she would have given to have someone hold her lovingly.

Tears run down her cheeks, but she is rendered catatonic.

“Just who…am I?”

She only wished she knew. Or someone knew.

But the answer was lost somewhere within her soul. She didn’t have the strength to seek what she needed the most.

She sinks onto her knees, her head hung low. The looming silence is only broken by her quick breathing.

Darkness seemed to be closing in. She moans, a wave of despair washing over her. Dragging herself to her bed, she curls up, waiting to be taken into an impenetrable slumber.

Sleep extends its arms in a lulling comfort, the only consolation she has ever known.

But then again, who ever knew of the sheer despondency she suffered through, day and night? The façade of strength doesn’t fade away, even against utter hopelessness.

“Is this what life turns out to be for everyone?” she wonders dreamily.

As always, her words echo and reverberate against the bare walls of an empty house, of a lonely heart…

...

Depressive, I know. However it's a result of the catharsis I had been going through. That's all I can say.