on that rainy saturday
my aunt asks
“do you think it’s cruel
to send the dog to sleep?”

she’s a tiny thing:
tinier eyes with a tinier heart
but my cousin recognises
the tiniest spark of conscience
in her question.

my cousin,
“well, you have to see then,” she begins.
“Can the dog find love here?”

And I wonder,
their four-room corner unit
along Commonwealth
their house big enough for two grandchildren
two fish tanks,
a wide kitchen, a tall fridge,
shackles the dog to where he smells,
but cannot eat;
steel-grated windows, a door beyond his reach
he hears but cannot speak
he sleeps but cannot dream.

his legs tremble,
as if a newborn baby learning
to walk on his weakened limbs
but he is old
he cannot be born

for a trip to the United Kingdom
to live with their daughters
and their children.

here comes,
another rainy saturday
where one storm ceases, another seizes.
i’d say raining cats and dogs,
but the dogs are no more.

A/N: They used to have two dogs. Both are gone now.


look up, little one.


when you look up and see the stars tonight
blink back your tears, hold your tiny heart.
The fathomless night guards your sleep.
The stars watch you from afar;
apart yet a part.

when you stared up at those loud florescent lights
why wonder, why despair?
your eyes are his, and his are yours.

so child,
when you see them in the skies tonight
do not be afraid to cry
it’s time to say goodbye.

fault lines


you ask me:
why don’t we get along?
why can’t I compromise
why can’t I understand you?

i say:
I(have you taken a look in the mirror lately)
am (why do you manipulate everything to be my fault)
sorry (for not being what you want me to be.)

if you’re so concerned:
take my life. be done with it.



i called you
at the bottom of some stairs
at some posh hotel
where they wore smiles
celebrating my cousin’s marriage
but i seemed to drop mine
somewhere along the way
with my back against the cement wall
and i called you
but your number isn’t in service anymore
my phone burned my cheeks
with all twenty attempts
just like how i felt
our connection
to ashes.
you sent me off with a text.
i sent you off with silence.