Spank Me On My Butt - I Have Many More To Ask For

Imperfection, lust and honesty were the words that vaguely appeared in my dreams lately. What those words mean, no one knows. It just something that has jumbled, frightened to be said and the most important of the lot, it has been buried underneath that no one was be able to excavate it back. The truth and the real thing was, the Earth has been invented immaculately sphere leaving the world undefined - whether the world should be confined or just unbounded.

As the number of my age grows bigger, my mentality grows smaller. It has left me in a blinded world, uncertain and most of the time, I have this kind of hunch that the bond I have with my colleagues and my comrades will tatter and gruel.. in the end, someday. It will not happen, in any ways, how hard it could be, those relationships I had worked out, will always flourish as it flies. Now looking back to the pasts, where we've grown up at the place we used to sit together on the morning of cats-and-dogs, it was me smiling alone to nothing but just for mere one reason - bewildered of how immature I was and thereafter. Tantalized and frayed - they were all just a mix of emotions, dough of colourful stripes and lastly twirled to be a plate filled with beautiful muffins of untold feelings. Oh how I love to be unknown.

At one start line, the game starts. And at the other end, they shout for the finish line.
Life mere a fight for a lead in front, how do people love it to be ended, it just another option.

My Swollen Memory

It was on a late Saturday afternoon when I sat back on the 4-wheeled maroon chair reminiscing and simmering down into the deep thoughts of ambiguous talk I had together with him on the very last day of my sweet vacation – before we strode back to the place we used to be. I still can remember how torrential was the rain at that time, the eerie sudden gush of wind howling at times, as if mocking the echoed tunes of dense melancholy, the tad emotion of sadness I was trying to run away.

The small cubicle room – on the sofa where we sank in – was fully immersed in thick and humid frowsty air, prickling the clear sweats that were entirely condensate on our tanned rough skins. He was there religiously listening to my endless whines without even frowning – oh how I couldn't love you.

Be it hurts or blistering, either vague or murmuring, his carved smiles and the churn of his sweet words danced on his lips - were the potions that healed my wounds, were the lullaby of my incomplete tunes, was the sun for my dreary, murky June.

And as for a certain many, the lost of his presence was just for a brief moment; like the quick disappearance of the dew that bathed by the glare of the sun – oh how people could easily forget how hard did it fall from the cold, misty night.

As such memories had served me all these while and I couldn't evoke, for quite a noted time, how did it feel to be left and dismayed, after being showered with sweet words from a human being, literally called A MAN.

May You Remember The Night We Were Together,
On The Night When You Whispered
"I Love You"

A petite remembrance of things past,
Zubaidah Binti Arshad