Because, to be Loved by You

It takes a lot of guts for me to stand here right now,

because for a poet, I really don’t have much to rhyme about

For a grown woman I’m a cry-baby,

forever a child at heart;

with a blatant lack of flair for patience,

I kind of carry around a ‘hard-ass aura’

For a lady I’ve got a pair of very bulky calves

and heels that always end up dry,

visible stretch-marks and a slightly above-average BMI

On top of that I am tailed around by a mountain-heavy baggage,

having lived at least several grueling lifetimes

And for that I unapologetically

– sometimes publicly –


many nights;

and many times do I fall into a mode of automatic ‘Self-Destruct’

Then, there was you

You with your warmth,

your charms,

your inexplicable eagerness to be a part of this soap opera

And suddenly,

there was a need for me to be a little bit more –


To start having some kind of self-regard

And then there was that fear of being

– God forbid –


Because the idea of me unmasked

is, sincerely,

a nerve-wracking alarm

You see I worry about these permanently stamped dark circles around my eyes,

The oil pool of a forehead that no matter how much powder I mount it with,

still shines

And a well-supplied reserve of fat that hangs from my arms,

my thighs

And when you count for my teaspoon-size emotional control,

My fingertip-level of impressionability threshold before I give it up for love,

And how I make up my mind like how you’d cross a suspended rope on your toes

– swaying from side to side –

I really don’t have much left in terms of bragging rights

But, somehow,

I begin to care none for these hand-me-down, pre-programmed flaws


to be seen past all that by you…

And if you look back through my history,

Worse than Eve,

I’ve not only fallen for that forbidden apple trick;

I’ve climbed that tree and plunged from it freely

Unlike whoever that guy is,

I’ve not only ignored Pandora’s stupid warning;

I’ve hammered that box and dissected its every piece

And I’ve not only gone out of my trail in the deep woods like Red Riding Hood;

I’ve recreated paths, that lead travellers to dark cul-de-sacs,

just out of proving

Now I know, you know, they know, I’ve done a lot of bad things

(I radiate an afterglow of loyal grief and faithful guilt)

But to not be left by you…

And if they say, that humankind is God’s work of art

I won’t be found at some contemporary high-end gallery

Only in the living rooms of colonial houses that smell like the 20’s

Bordered by a frame that keeps changing,

each new one more polished and 21st-century in design

But within,

chipping paints and worn out colour shades make up this image

that no one can seem to fit into some sort of a schema

God, what the hell even am I?

But somehow,

I begin to care none whether they see me as a brilliant abstract,

or plain junk in aesthetic disguise


to be admired by you…

And just as I begin to withdraw,

in terror of being further found,

You put a ‘Priceless’ tag on the way I smile,

The way I feel –

everything extra,

the way I absorb every emotion twice the recommended amount

You find –


in the way my wild-child impulse still roams about inside,

You find strength,

in the on-going crusade between my penchant for self-corrupt and my desire to remain satisfied,

And most of all you find beauty,

in how my baggage-ful of mistakes, mysteries and cries,

made me who I am now

And who I am now, is still,

in every way,

impossible to define

But for a world that more than anything needs sugar, spice and everything nice,

is perfectly, enough


23.11.11 – 27.11.11.

As performed at The Red Carnival 2011 outside Sungei Wang Plaza on November 27, 2011.