Initially...

I have evil thoughts in my head lately. I am in love in someway with someone else. I can't believe this is really happening to me. The worst of all, I am married. I have to pretend to be friend with him; no second option. The truth is that by being friend, it buys me time to be with him. Nonetheless, this whole thing is jeopardizing me.

Being close to him; sitting beside him; chatting; laughing at his jokes; asking him questions; sometimes responding to his requests; doing him favors; complimenting his outfits; walking with him; sending him text messages; reading his messages; petting his shoulders....This list is still far from completion.

The most crucial thing, did I mention that I am married? I kept thinking if I could marry him in the first place... That kind of sucks.

Life is full of choices; One leads to another. Ironically, the fact is that if I wasn't married, I probably wouldn't have met the guy that I currently have a thing for. "Cope with it. C'est la vie,'' said I, to myself.

Just as we spoke, a part of me flew away and
dwelled in your epiphysis cerebri
to see
          what you can see
                                        through your greyish blue eyes.

I woke up at 4:30 in the morning,
suddenly felt haunted by a mixture of happiness and unhappiness,
a sensation that I wanted to escape from;
I wanted to do something that I don't know for certain.

All these days, I have been asked "How was your weekend?"
I could only answer boring things.
I am trapped, by a colossal net; I am a prey.

It is only because of the weather, I wish.

A coffee table facing the street.
"Hey~ Did you wait?"
you said, from behind me.
"Nope^^,
not at all"
I replied.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting."
oh, I forgot to hide
the wet circle around the iced tea.

A coffee table facing the street,
"Hey~ Did you wait?"
You said, from inside me.
"Yes,
for so long."
I replied.
"Sorry for letting you leaving"
oh, I couldn't hide
the tear drops beside the iced tea.

Give me a pair of wings,
Decorated with tear and dimness,
I want to fly.

Fly across the river,
Fly across the sea
Fly across all the sorrow,
Fly back to you.

Give me a splendid voice
that can pass across the globe
I want to sing.

Sing over the mountains,
Sing over the creek.
Sing that eases all the anguish,
so you can be calm.

My living room is a mysterious room that reigns by enchanting powers. Nothing there is out of the ordinary though - a wall made by a giant window that overlook my messy but vigorous yard; a white leather chair next to the window wall which faces a TV and a stereo. To the opposite of the window, there is a piano against the wall. But somehow, sitting on the chair alone makes my head goes blank, I can seldom think. The room makes me forget everything that upsets me, and clears all my worries. It is enchanted, indeed.

Outside the window, there is a Poinciana - a tree, which has small leaves look like fern’s, and blossoms in summer with clusters of redish orange flowers - standing in the middle of the yard. In summer and autumn, whenever there is wind or breeze, the leaves would fly off the tree like yellow snow.

I can sit on the white leather chair beside the window, look at my yard for hours, and still won’t get bored. There are abundant of things to see. The window is a frame of a moving artwork – some of the birds fly around rendering mating rituals; some of them fall down from the sky try to grab a bite. Sometimes, if I am lucky, I can see a lizard scares away by a bird. From the window, I can see the dance of next-door-neighbor’s bamboo trees as well. In blooming seasons, the living room becomes a playground of the breeze scented by flowers occasionally.

It was a hot, hot Tuesday afternoon. The sky was cloudlessly bright; the streets were jammed with tourists. I had been wandering around on the street for a few hours. When I felt the hot air started burning my lungs, and I couldn’t stand the heat any longer, there it was, an old pub. Weak guitar music slightly flew out from the door gap. I could barely hear the music. It seemed to be blocked by the heat that reined the street. I couldn’t resist the blotched pub door, even though I knew I didn’t drink alcoholic drinks at all.

As I went near the door, I was immediately sucked into the pub. It was an instant relief. Inside the pub was a totally different world –the air was chilly and easy, a few chairs and tables scattered unevenly. There were only a handful of customers, a bartender, and a dog laid on the floor napping and twitching at times. People lazily listened to the songs, nodded a little, chatted a little.

There was an old man singing while playing a guitar. Wrinkles on his face were so deep that people might assume those were scars engraved on him. But somehow, he sang joyfully. The painful history didn’t affect him; he sang joyfully.