“You could be a compass rare and so bountiful
You could be the opposing opinion
You could be the point of attraction bound to all
You could be the point of letting it go.”
I miss the feeling of being lonely,
Confiding in Nai Palm
as she sings me my lullabies.
I crave to tell myself that I am a relic
still filled with art, or a trinket
abundant with strength.
I don’t really need words to pop up on the screen,
or someone to kiss me goodnight,
or to hold me to sleep.
I don’t want to feel any hint of in-betweenness,
or the vulnerable charm of ephemerality.
The external world can be fatally beautiful,
but perhaps beneath every person,
there stands a warrior, waiting to bleed gold.
Don’t wait for others to help you fend for yourself.
You have your own armour, you know that.