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Dear Eloquence

Dear eloquence
(because you taught me
how to give myself voice
after I took it raw from the
back of  my
throat and later realise I couldn’t put it
back into places like I have

to breath underwater
when your ankles are cemented
to the ocean demands
lioness’ heart with a dam full of
courage for vulnerability

like— exposing your withering
thoughts by etching the disfigured
holograph of your war thorn
soul onto papers
Even when you can no longer
think during  odd hours

or like when you are making
love to red inquisitions  griping
at your arms
as it courses down your
pink skin  (now bloodshed)

or loving the ghosts
two and a half lovers
who claimed themselves bold enough
to claim your love  
  but they can’t because they had to live
with half a heart arrested in a
sea glass jar of
either lust or the
fear or falling
when I would have wrote them letters
signed ‘sincerely not yours’

comet ;
killjoy ;
blue jay;
love –
you are a
moon child with a
heart restlessly giving birth
to tides that takes two
to tame

but when world is unforgiving
and your self built prison walls
grow to dark
or damp
and cold

even a thousand ‘layers masks ‘ shall
never conceal eloquence
or ‘equanimity ‘ you bear unknowingly
that I can only wish of acquiring
and no
I am not fooled
because even when you are divided
you are whole
and exquisite behind the
nonchalant smiles

for someone who can’t
afford a journey to his
he lose the sight of your
of your strength
and bravery that speaks in foreign

but that doesn’t mean
you should too

Voice (Be Heard) – A Poem


Why are you
a goldenplate
at odd hours
serving nothing
but silence when
your voice is a 3 a.m
a dam full of ravaging
water slammed into inertia
against the concrete wall

Why are you so
insisted of tying a noose
around your slender neck
holding back your wild heart
and keeping it at bay
by the delta of your soul
voiceless and unseen

Dear feeble hearts
and loud minds
    Be heard , love

        the truth isn’t your foe
when fallacy is.
Trish Destiny H.

Sincerely, Not Yours.

Credit to Photographer (Unknown)

Dear Mother,
I once lived within your
collection of bones and flesh
stacked neatly  together
our souls became intertwined
                  woven dreams like tapestry
run all over the stateless stream
of our warm blood
of the first land I ever
       the cadence of your heart
the gush of your blood
  I remember you
humming comfort into my
as my fingers bruised
with paper cuts

I love you
Sincerely, Not Yours

Dear father,
I killed you with the
bare of my own hands
with your heart still beating still
standing in the doorway
eyes turning gray
and beads of
sweats on your chest
— anger
you died
before time
an absence in your presence
leave me breathless

This is your daughter
shrieking voiceless
under her damaged skins

I am ruined
I know
but I loved you
Sincerely, not yours

Dear Sister
I am a misnomer
a walking eulogy of imperfections
of inquisitive tongues and
your favourite color
I am the fear flogged
with your tears
an imperfection clothed in
all gold that glitters and
you call yourself dead
but maybe I am too

Remember the days when
we ran free with our
tender hearts turning into
a singular masterpiece
under the sun
our braided tresses are

That I love you like
the sun has been
my first kiss

Meet me there

Sincerely Not Yours

Dear Brother
Do I know you
or do you know me
when I see you within myself
your silhouette roaming in my sleep
she’s your keeper
and I am not

You ain’t a stranger
I know and I hope I am
not too

I missed your laughters and
the way you twisted this world
with your disfigured fingers
stained with glycerin

I missed you
please come back

Sincerely, Not Yours

Dear Lover ,
We are just children
of light
lost in the thick of the woods
walking our way home

Please ,
Hush and let me be your fortress
as we ache for the ravens
in the still born of a dawn

I remember you told me
You wanted me under
your quilts
tearing the stitches sewn at
the hem of my heart
open while I am
still learning how to breath
with half a heart arrested
in a jar of tears

you made
me loved the way you prodded
my scars
flicked it over as if they
are trivial memories
stained with absinthe trying
to make a comeback one
after another
in the warp of time

Our love live in the
in a field full of poppies
and wild lilacs
on the benches drenched
with the acidity of  the rain

I know.

I love you,
Your beautiful mind ranting
Your crippling bones aching
for poignant beauty and pain

But that doesn’t make you mine
I am not your God .

Sincerely, Not Yours.

Your Heart Cracks (And It’s Perfectly Fine )


The heart was made to be broken

-Oscar Wilde

There are reasons why your heart cracks, and why your honestly has cringed voicelessly down your throat.

There are reasons why your blood stained lips gaped wide open, moaning and screaming for the aching pain that lives within your bones as salty tears course down your cheeks.

There are reasons why the shrapnels from your past unforgotten make their comeback and with blades in their hands they cut into your flesh. And why certain wounds have never turned into prominent raised tissues like scars.

Why your heart is bitter even your lover has call it sweet.

Why your tears taste like oxygenated salt water, when you felt so dead inside.

Why your green veins pulsing steady according to the sacred cadence of your heartbeats.

Why the intervals of your heartbeats laid a monster who feeds upon hurtful moments and darkness.

Why lust overtook your mind when your soul is seeking refuge in a palace of love.

We can’t be ascertained if the wounds will leave eventually in this lifetime at least or if they will proceed and continue to plague out bones, out battered souls and torn up being to the core. Or if the cracks will come to a closure someday.

But sometimes, those reasons might just live anonymously within you. Because it could just be those simply are a gesture of your heart seeking for amplified love, from yourself. And maybe you should be broken, cracked and damage beyond repair so that you can make a comeback into this celestial moment, with a different arrangement of those pieces that makes you , yours.

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could. -Louise Erdrich (The Painted Drum)

Many Love and Light

An Ode To A Sister {A Poem }


Earlier in the late March, a soul sister , of whom I loved so dearly has celebrated her solar return. Nights before, we spent the whole week, crafting a concrete moment of closure for her past years- a good bye ritual, as I loved to call it.

A night before her birthday, we have rummaged through many old pictures, some in sepia coloured, polarised unevenly and we began to recall various moment of which we were called beautiful by our dearest ones.

Until we trailed passed few tearstained diary pages, of which we have secured our heart breaks, the cadence of our heart cracking, laughters unheard.

And she told me, “seems like there are always some darkness within each of us, isn’t it?”.

I pursed my lips in silence and we fixed gazes. “ True,” I echoed.
Darkness is something we have synonymed with tenderness, sadness sitting in out bones, stinging tears, hard moments faced when we have been defeated.
Many moons ago, if someone were to actually even mention me about scars, trauma or morbid darkness itself, I will tell him or her to discount it. That such a lightless well deserve no attention. But then, I have sit through the numbing tides of depression, heartaches and for countless time, despair has showed up at my door as it brought me a buckets of grievance.

And from those gritty moments I have discovered how we need this lightless well to reignite the fire in our soul, to dance in our very own flame, to bring this timid star forth in the centre of a galaxy. Our galaxy.

To shine.
And here I have wrote a poem to my dear soul sister morning after.

You told me that darkness
has make itself home between
intervals of your heartbeats
sunk within the
marrow of your
you should have also
known better
from the very centre of
      a lightless well
you have woven yourself
            crescendos of stars;
tying them together
              into a nebulous galaxy
an eternal lightyear
away from your extratesterrial
that’s why
today the Sun has marked
                     the day
      it kissed your tender
this is  the day ultraviolet
                              has find its way into
   your electrifying soul ;
              the day a dream painter and
a magic weaver has been
resurrected from her bed
   of stardusts

I remember you said
you are terrified of thunder
your bloodstream as it
down your veins
I am afraid they are the
echoes of your wildest desires 
blossoming in your heartland


Many Love and Light