parents are off to batam, and its just bro n i- except tt he's home infrequently so its just me. no dull droning of the tv, no blasting muzak, no human conversations echoing thru the walls - just complete silence the way i would like it, with the space to roam about the house with the freedom to plop my books at the dining table, to have my dinners at ten and muesli at twelve. and stockloads of milk + fruits. it gets magical at night, this piercing stillness. Sublime Solitude.

a toast to my own place in the near future - with or without a partner.

reminds me of once when ju and i rented that room in that house way back in acjc, when we had to stretch my $200 pocket money - staying up to do our own laundry, cooking days worth of food so we could reheat them, having loads of green bean soup so we wont go hungry, that routine of going to school and coming back to that rented room straight to nap then pia, coming home once every two weeks. and then there was kent ridge hostel in uni - supperssuppers, the staying up late in the rooms of other hostelites.

but nothing beats having your own place.

***

i will not have you tick me against a checklist - filling me into your preconceived categories of how Your Ideal Woman/Perfect Mate should be and compare me with the notes you garner from that checklist.

for i exist in proportions beyond what you can seemingly grasp of me - for nothing is ever one thing.

***

I dreamt of your sweet embrace, encircling me like how you would encircle Life.

Funny how it is that you managed to enter these dreams of mine, when in reality all that embraces is your smile - skipping past imagined conversations straight into the sublime intimacies of the soul.

Imaginings of your being, because your existence never really quite existed in my life - only glimmers of it, sporadically existing parallel to that of mine but never quite meeting at a common juncture, encapsulated in its entirety in that smile of yours.

Your smile - that signifier for the deep recesses of the hidden treasures between two souls.

In reality, it was an embrace that Never Was.

***

never marry a poet/writer/dreamer/actor/artist.