Aftertaste

There was a certain girl in my life.


She was


Complex.

Dark.

Emotional.

Pessimistic.

Mysterious.

Poetic.

Artistic.

Cold.

Playful.


Always a Tease.

Full of Fear.

Composed and controlled.
& yet
Full of Strife.

Fiercely Independent

Obstinately opinionated.

Uncaring of her Lover.



A Catholic
who embraced
sorrow,
and invited
death.


one who kept me captive in my own prison,
whom i threw the key away for.

one who made me apprehend to utter the word,
"LOVE".

-

I have moved on, and yet I have not.

She lingers, but only in my mind.

-

It leaves a bad taste.

And it persists after.


But Somehow...


It cannot be washed off.

And yet it does not seem so bad then.

-

Pass me the Listerine, Extra Strong.

A small table, two chairs, sweet tea in between

A small table, two chairs, sweet tea in between.


This short sentence may seem simple.

But in it bears the memories of a past once had.

The memory of me and my friend from secondary school, Fukun, having tea together in his house.

With a small round folding wooden table and two accompanying chairs.


That was years ago. I can't even remember exactly when, but im pretty sure it was 4 years back in 2004, when we were sec 4.

It was then during that very day we had tea that i thought of the sentence.

And now, years after, it is still with me.

But I wonder...what of the Fukun and me now?

How much have things changed since then...?