April 10th (NapoWrimo)

Missed a couple of days due to exams, but here’s my poem for April 10th:




The skyscrapers look like deathtraps

Terrifying, but in the most beautiful way.

I look up and my mind goes running in the worst ways but I let it

They’re meant to illicit your inner daredevil.


The Roads We Take

Wrote this poem on the flight from Beijing back to Vancouver. I also wrote another poem and a song and I watched Pitch Perfect 1 and 2 and I watched Inside Out (sobbed). It was a productive flight.

Where will the roads we take go

If we were meant for each other

Will we meet again?

Six months since you said goodbye

You told me, every month, you’d see me again

You took with you a gun,

thought it was loaded with blanks,

But I’m finding a hole in my heart

Every month gone is another bullet,

Ripping my capillaries

I can’t breathe because you were my air

Which road did you take?

The one less traveled?

The one bursting with life?

The one that lead you further away from me?

Leave me the gun

I want you to feel the same I did.

This time, I’ll be sure to load it

Your pain would be much worse

I’ll take the road less traveled

So if we meet again,

You’ll realize that the pain I caused you

Was because you caused me the same.


BEDA Day 5 (PEDA #1) – Not Keen On Breaking Your Heart

This is a poem I wrote that applies to a relationship of mine.

I’m not keen on breaking pieces of you

The pieces may not have come from your heart

but nonetheless, I’ve broke you.

You say “good morning beautiful” and I wonder why I can’t say anything at all.

You keep me sane and I adore you for that

because everyone around me is breaking me down.

You’re the only boy who’s made sense yet you don’t make any sense at all.

How is it that all that I feel is skin on skin?

I’m waiting for the fireworks and it’s a delayed start.

It’s slower than that,

It never starts.

I’m not keen on watching your friends pick up your pieces and glue you back together.


Ticking Time bomb

This is a poem that I wrote regarding a line my best friend said. This poem might be triggering to some, so TRIGGER WARNING. And yes, this poem is about suicide.
I don’t want you to be a ticking time bomb.

But when I finally realize it,

it’s always too late.

Counting down the days,

counting down the minutes,

counting down the seconds.

How many times has the fuse been blown out?

It’s only getting shorter.

Who will give you the lighter next time?

Would you search for your own?

“Can’t I be selfish one last time?”

you ask.

Well, can you?

What do we say to a question like that?

Doesn’t matter how we answer it,

It’ll only cause destruction.

“Can’t I be selfish one last time?”

Well, can you?

Doesn’t it all depend on you?

Your bank account has run dry,

because your problems have taken you places

you didn’t even know existed.

The deepest crevices of your mind,

don’t return your deposit,

so you fill it with your fears,

and the emotions you’d never visit with company,

before you seal it with your tears.

So when you ask “can’t I be selfish one last time?”

the answer should be YES

because you’ve been too selfless,

why else would your emotions never see the light of day?

You’re not afraid of them,


I’m afraid of the day I get that phone call

because you’ve blown up.

I’m afraid of the day

when I will have

no more days to count.

no more minutes to count.

no more seconds to count.

What She Doesn’t Know

This is a crappy rant poem I wrote. It’s referring to the “a guy and a girl can’t be friends if he’s in a relationship” topic. Which, in my opinion, is complete bullshit.

What She Doesn’t Know:

Hey, let’s go for donuts,

Or maybe burgers

Or we can go to that new record shop that just opened.

Don’t worry, I’ll tell my girlfriend everything.

Right, I’m tired, let’s just sit here and rest our feet, can I take a ten minute nap?…
You know what? What my girlfriend doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

You wanna go to lunch with me?

I’ll pay for everything,

So order as much as you want.

Do you wanna go to that new couples cafe after?

We can share a milkshake

Do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?
Who? Oh your girlfriend? My best friend?

I totally forgot about her.

Why text her? What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her

I was too busy staring into your eyes

They’re so dreamy,

I wish you were MY boyfriend.

But alas, you’re not.

I can always try to steal you away though.

That milkshake? Why don’t we scrap that idea and make out instead?
…wow, that was a long nap. Oh yea,

I should text my girlfriend.

“Hey, I’m just hanging out with your best friend. I love you so much. Talk to you later!”

“Hey, I’m just chilling with your boyfriend. He just forced too many donuts into me. That idiot”


A Confession

I wonder if anyone will figure out who this is about…

Is it the colour of your eyes?

a sea of grey, murky like smoke and mirrors,

but au contraire, my dear,

that’s a compliment,

I’d love to unravel your mysteries,

I’m not afraid of them.

You’ve made butterflies emerge from their cocoons,

ready to fly.

confined in a space so small,

they have no choice but to make a ruckus,

Is it your smile?

I can’t remember if your lips stretch over your teeth,

if you smirk more than you grin

I still smile the same every time,

no, sorry, my mistake,

I don’t smile, I grin.

my eyes disappear, my teeth on full display.

“my mind is living on cloud nine and that nine is never on vacation. start up that Maserati and vroom vroom I’m racing”

my dear, you’re that Maserati.

I wonder if you notice anything:

my awkwardness?

my silence?

my attempts at words?

I’ve realized,

you’re a little oblivious

or a lot

but you know what?

that’s okay.


He Loves Me

This was a poem I wrote after listening to “The Type” by Sarah Kay. Love is also something that I see everywhere I go, so I wrote my observations in a poem

“He Loves me”

When you find a significant other, here are some things to keep in mind

One: You are picking the petals off of a flower. “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not…” you are going to end up on “he loves me not” every single time. You will destroy your mother’s flower garden and still not find the flower with the odd number of petals. You will throw thousands and thousands of them in the air, waiting to be caught by the wind, before you tear off one “he loves me”.

You will keep on going, because that petal wasn’t pretty enough. You refuse to accept that it’s your only “he loves me”. You keep on searching.

Two: Someday, you will finally stop on THE petal. The one you feel content with. Keep it. Keep it tucked in a notebook containing the secrets to your heart. Make it the key to your heart. Make sure the man you share them with has the exact same key.

Three: There will be so many men who will look at you like you are the missing link. You are the answer to that one question that they’ve been struggling with. Once you fill them in, they’re content.

It’s the other way around. Men should look at you like you are the question. You are a book filled with questions they need to fill in. They’ve got a box of pens sitting at their feet, waiting to be used up. They’ve only got so much correction tape, because not everything can be covered up and fixed. They will sit there filling you in until every single blank space is covered. Because they’re okay with sacrificing their time for you.

Four: When you moan about your problems to them for the millionth time, they’ll treat it as your first. They’ll give you new insight, rather than repeating the same advice for the millionth time. When you approach them sobbing your heart out over an incident years ago that you still haven’t gotten over, they’ll hold you close, wrap their arms around you, and squeeze you tight. They won’t say a thing, because they know that sometimes, silence is a better cure than words.