In the dark, I followed the stars,
Twinkling steadily and kindly,
Lighting the path to a place so far,
To a place waiting patiently for me.
Twinkling steadily and kindly,
The stars guide me as I make my way
To a place waiting patiently for me,
I know I am meant to arrive one day.Read More »
If I hang from a chandelier of ice,
Will the cold seep into my bloodstream first,
Like the harbinger of a frozen curse?
Or will the oxygen that escapes
In panicked gasps through faint blue lips,
Be the harbinger of my life’s eclipse?
The weight of your world
On my shoulders
Placed there with good intentions
And tough love,
The weight of your hopes
And dreams
Bending my back
Eternally,Read More »
I have held many hands before,
Soft hands, rough hands, and others more,
But when I’m holding your hand in mine,
You are everything I’ve ever wished for.
© Jade M. WongRead More »
You were fire,
Your flames lashing out,
Reveling in the shrieks and shouts.
I was darkness,
A pulsing black hole,
Feeding on the flickers of my soul.
The water splashes onto his face
And drops roll down his back,
Disappearing under the towel
Wrapped around his waist.
The day has just begun
And I lean against the door,
Toothbrush in hand, suddenly wishing
I were a drop of water.
It’s already been three weeks, but I swear I can still feel you kicking inside me. The doctor said writing in a journal would help, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t help knowing my own body rejected you.
The doctor said it was a tragic accident, but there are no accidents. The doctor said time would make it easier, but that’s a lie too.Read More »
It’s not like in the movies—
When the girl cries softly,
Her teardrops falling gently,
Her lips plump and red like rubies.
It’s agonizing and excruciating and loud—
With globs of tears leaving a trace
Of mascara staining her face,
Falling apart in the few moments she’d allowed.
Standing on my toes,
Trying to peek over the counter,
I can barely see.
But I hear the whistle of the kettle
Boiling on the stove,
And the clink of the spoon
Against the mug,
And the shuffle of the cupboards
Open and close.
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.Read More »
