[Poetry] I Wish…

I wish you held my hand
Because it was held out for you,
And I wish you’d let me understand
That you were hurting too.
I wish I read more closely
All the clues you left behind,
And if you knew how you have helped me,
Could I have helped you too in kind?
But most of all, I wish your soul
Broken and cracked it was with pain,
Is resting now, at peace and whole
And that you never hurt again.

© Jade M. Wong 2017 Continue reading “[Poetry] I Wish…”

[Poetry] Sea of Sad Songs

Stranded
With no land in sight
Perhaps, it’s better to sink.
Straining
To hear something other than the noise
Of every thought I think.

Once
You were my life raft
My reason to be strong.
Now
I wonder how long it’ll take
To drown in this sea of sad songs.

© Jade M. Wong 2017 Continue reading “[Poetry] Sea of Sad Songs”

[Poetry] How To Remember Me

HOW TO REMEMBER ME

Do not only remember what you wish to be true,
I did not live to satisfy you.
Do not only portray me with visions of beauty,
I did not live to be known as pretty.
Do not speak of me and fail to mention my flaws,
I did not live to hear only applause.
Remember how I was both spiteful and kind,
My heart was warm, but sometimes blind.
I was not insignificant. I was not carefree.
I wore my scars both beautiful and beastly.
Do not only remember what you wish to be true,
I did not live to satisfy you. 

© Jade M. Wong 2017 Continue reading “[Poetry] How To Remember Me”

[Poetry] Bleeding Lines

I never could see her soul through her eyes—
They were thick opera curtains that never budged,
Never giving light a chance to pierce through.

But light always finds a way—
Illuminating her veins down to her fingertips,
Until every word she wrote breathed anew. Continue reading “[Poetry] Bleeding Lines”

[Poetry] The Murderer

Was it I who threw the deafening blow?
Fingers clasped around the brick,
Horrified gasps leaving my lips—
That is a secret only we three know.

Or was it I who, surviving hell,
Decided this is the last blood-stained time,
Disgusted with his body in mine—
That is a secret we will never tell. Continue reading “[Poetry] The Murderer”

[Poetry] Three Gifts

His gift to me came threefold:

First, the soft whisperings
Of the wind dancing
Through the trees brushing
Against the window pane
As our bed grows cold.

Second, the rose petals
Littering the wooden floor
Like casualties of war—
The blood-red and broken
Remnants of us. Continue reading “[Poetry] Three Gifts”