Maybe if I died
you would miss me
Or would you even notice
me standing here holding my heart in my hands
as one last offering to myself
December 2005
That time by the river bank at Raffles Place smoking, I sat there and looked at all the buildings... and wondered at how my limbs will sprawl out, the trajectory of my flight before collapsing onto the tarmac belonging to the upper working class echelon.
The silence was so articulate, I could hear its heartbeat alive and pounding in its reticence. I was screaming in my head over and over again, and all I could ever think of was how anyone could miss me with my heart in my hands.
I could just imagine kneeling on the steps crying blood. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed over in my mind, it was so loud, it might as well develop a heartbeat of its own the way silence did.
And now here I am, remembering the last time I felt this way was the December of 05 as I sat with the blade of a best friend somehow believing that blood and tears had a will of its own to teleport the emotions across to another even if they were not by your side.
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