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Literature Text
i. Dear ears, when I was three
You have heard the pyrrhic silence of your mother’s quiet solitude in the clap-back echoes of his absence; trust me when I tell you this will not be all you hear, dear ears. Trust me.
ii. Dear eyes, when I was five
You have seen the glacial gelid shards of his pebble eyes fix their sights on you and you have seen silence as a sheet of ice frost-bitten over his face as he whispers that he is proud of you with all the conviction of a question mark; trust me when I tell you this will not be all you see, dear eyes. Trust me.
iii. Dear hands, when I was eight
You have been riven and empty since he left like a letter with no return address and it may feel like the world is too big to be safe walking alone, that you will stumble without his hand in yours but you will be okay with just your own hands to hold, and they will be enough, you will be enough, trust me.
iv. Dear tongue, when I was ten
There were times you were bitten so hard that you were sure you were stumped and muted and marred. You taste his tornado torrents, watch them whistle between his cracked lips and you are scared. A wolf is living in your home, keep the crumbs of your pride behind your teeth before he steals every morsel. He can smell fear and I’m telling you those jaws are like bear traps. But trust me when I tell you one day your scarred tongue will taste freedom and your mouth will spit fire. Just keep writing, keep breathing, it will ignite. Trust me.
v. Dear lungs, when I was twelve
Inhale love and exhale hate, do not be punctured by their punchlines or shattered by shards of their second-hand laughter. Breathe easy. Just as you have two lungs and two hands and two hemispheres, you have always seen that you are a girl looking for love with open eyes and open palms, and it will find you one day. And it will hold you one day. And the last thing you will care about is whether they are a boy or a girl, either way their heart will beat against your spine and remind you to breathe easy. You are flesh and blood as are they. And when your mouths meet, you will smile and know that all the waiting was worth it and I’m telling you one day you will love yourself and who you are and you won’t give a damn about those kids and their snarled feral mouths that will only kiss dirt while you breathe infinity; trust me.
vi. Dear heart, when I was fourteen
You know when you think he is going to move to Switzerland that something is wrong. This boy will be your first love, first confidant, first betrayal. You will pine like a lost wolf over him, erase yourself inside and out to be the mirror that shows him how beautiful he is, but when he realises he will leave you, empty blank and blindsided. Listen to what your mother says because this boy is a fire, and you will play the moth until he singes your wings. Trust me when I tell you he loves you, but you are a phoenix and his scorching touch will be your rebirth and you will soar beyond him and his lonely town of ghosts.
vii. Dear wrists, ankles, the vulnerable pieces of me when I was seventeen
Don’t kill yourself. Trust me, don’t. There are people you haven’t meet yet, but I have. There is a star-struck dreamer who will see good fortune in your freckles, there is a blue-eyed boy who will smell like Darjeeling and exotic oceans who will kiss you until you cannot kiss anymore, there is a girl with a smile as wide as the horizon who will hold your secrets when you are ready to give up, there is a boy with bone-china promises of reading poetry in the rain.
There are places you haven’t seen that flash in my dreams, the thousand-smile city of Bangkok, the bowing deer of Nara, the unwinding curve of the Great Wall laid at your feet with the whisper of ‘I’m glad you made it. We’ve been waiting for you.’ There is a world baring its soul to you, pulling open its fluted ribcage and showing you Seoul in the snow, Prague in the rain; it is tracing its childhood down your spine, it is taking you to its home, the volcano craters that remind you of home too. You are a product of a tornado and a hailstorm, a wanderer and a wonderer, you have been etched with wanderlust in your veins don’t try and cut that out.
Take the pills and dissolve them, take the pins and plot journeys on a map, just don’t kill yourself. Trust me, trust me.
viii. Dear hipbones, when I was twenty
Do not bend your diadem bones into a crown for a stranger that is somewhere between beast and boy. Those fingers will bruise, that mouth will burn, do not stretch yourself across continents to try and feel like you know what holding means. There are better ways and your hands learned this lesson a long time ago. Your hands have been keeping you together at the seams for years, this boy can only try for a night, and his nails will undo stitches and his fingerprints will indent and repairs take time you could have spent laughing.
{ And when I next see you, you will be a woman whose hands will be weathered, worn and warm. They will match her mother’s, and she will love herself as much as she loves the world, the lover she brings home to bed and goes from Paris to Istanbul in a night, dreaming in destinations - smiling, smiling, smiling - }
You have heard the pyrrhic silence of your mother’s quiet solitude in the clap-back echoes of his absence; trust me when I tell you this will not be all you hear, dear ears. Trust me.
ii. Dear eyes, when I was five
You have seen the glacial gelid shards of his pebble eyes fix their sights on you and you have seen silence as a sheet of ice frost-bitten over his face as he whispers that he is proud of you with all the conviction of a question mark; trust me when I tell you this will not be all you see, dear eyes. Trust me.
iii. Dear hands, when I was eight
You have been riven and empty since he left like a letter with no return address and it may feel like the world is too big to be safe walking alone, that you will stumble without his hand in yours but you will be okay with just your own hands to hold, and they will be enough, you will be enough, trust me.
iv. Dear tongue, when I was ten
There were times you were bitten so hard that you were sure you were stumped and muted and marred. You taste his tornado torrents, watch them whistle between his cracked lips and you are scared. A wolf is living in your home, keep the crumbs of your pride behind your teeth before he steals every morsel. He can smell fear and I’m telling you those jaws are like bear traps. But trust me when I tell you one day your scarred tongue will taste freedom and your mouth will spit fire. Just keep writing, keep breathing, it will ignite. Trust me.
v. Dear lungs, when I was twelve
Inhale love and exhale hate, do not be punctured by their punchlines or shattered by shards of their second-hand laughter. Breathe easy. Just as you have two lungs and two hands and two hemispheres, you have always seen that you are a girl looking for love with open eyes and open palms, and it will find you one day. And it will hold you one day. And the last thing you will care about is whether they are a boy or a girl, either way their heart will beat against your spine and remind you to breathe easy. You are flesh and blood as are they. And when your mouths meet, you will smile and know that all the waiting was worth it and I’m telling you one day you will love yourself and who you are and you won’t give a damn about those kids and their snarled feral mouths that will only kiss dirt while you breathe infinity; trust me.
vi. Dear heart, when I was fourteen
You know when you think he is going to move to Switzerland that something is wrong. This boy will be your first love, first confidant, first betrayal. You will pine like a lost wolf over him, erase yourself inside and out to be the mirror that shows him how beautiful he is, but when he realises he will leave you, empty blank and blindsided. Listen to what your mother says because this boy is a fire, and you will play the moth until he singes your wings. Trust me when I tell you he loves you, but you are a phoenix and his scorching touch will be your rebirth and you will soar beyond him and his lonely town of ghosts.
vii. Dear wrists, ankles, the vulnerable pieces of me when I was seventeen
Don’t kill yourself. Trust me, don’t. There are people you haven’t meet yet, but I have. There is a star-struck dreamer who will see good fortune in your freckles, there is a blue-eyed boy who will smell like Darjeeling and exotic oceans who will kiss you until you cannot kiss anymore, there is a girl with a smile as wide as the horizon who will hold your secrets when you are ready to give up, there is a boy with bone-china promises of reading poetry in the rain.
There are places you haven’t seen that flash in my dreams, the thousand-smile city of Bangkok, the bowing deer of Nara, the unwinding curve of the Great Wall laid at your feet with the whisper of ‘I’m glad you made it. We’ve been waiting for you.’ There is a world baring its soul to you, pulling open its fluted ribcage and showing you Seoul in the snow, Prague in the rain; it is tracing its childhood down your spine, it is taking you to its home, the volcano craters that remind you of home too. You are a product of a tornado and a hailstorm, a wanderer and a wonderer, you have been etched with wanderlust in your veins don’t try and cut that out.
Take the pills and dissolve them, take the pins and plot journeys on a map, just don’t kill yourself. Trust me, trust me.
viii. Dear hipbones, when I was twenty
Do not bend your diadem bones into a crown for a stranger that is somewhere between beast and boy. Those fingers will bruise, that mouth will burn, do not stretch yourself across continents to try and feel like you know what holding means. There are better ways and your hands learned this lesson a long time ago. Your hands have been keeping you together at the seams for years, this boy can only try for a night, and his nails will undo stitches and his fingerprints will indent and repairs take time you could have spent laughing.
{ And when I next see you, you will be a woman whose hands will be weathered, worn and warm. They will match her mother’s, and she will love herself as much as she loves the world, the lover she brings home to bed and goes from Paris to Istanbul in a night, dreaming in destinations - smiling, smiling, smiling - }
Literature
dear self,
don't
even
try
it.
i'll get all
poetic
with you, since you
despise to listen;
stop chasing boys who
don't even like you;
they don't like
girls, not at this age;
stop thinking you
know how the world works,
you aren't a
c
i r
c l
e
of genius in radical
magnitudes; you're (fucking)
crazy, i'll give you that,
and you know how to get what
you want, but it doesn't make
you queen of saigon
(you'll have to wait a few years
until then)
you will learn the
definition of love when you're
introduced to danger and
black leather boys with caramel
skin and slick hair and everything
you thought was "idiotic" when you
were four;
y
Literature
i blame your smile, dear
i am so sorry, dear
i've been thinkin' a lot of us two
and the truth is, dear
i ain't ever growin' old with you
hush now, listen, dear
there's never no need for dismay
us hand in hand, dear
we'll still be feedin' the ducks with hair so grey
i blame your smile, dear
for releasin' the child from me
your smile and laugh, dear
to me they are always the key
i still hope i, dear
give you the same feelin' always
time won't touch us, dear
and us we'll stay young til' the end of our days
Literature
look at all this teenaged angst
look at all this teenaged angst,
puddled in the floor like a pile
of mildewing laundry. a hot topic shirt
against the beanbag, slouched
into a vampire kama sutra novel
wrapped with a tasteful dust jacket
for mom to approve of; a charging
iphone (ugh, outdated); an artfully
ripped hole over the knee, skull
and crossbones band-aid prominent.
look at all this teenaged angst;
but take a moment to appreciate
the Justin Bieber posters in the trash can.
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27/5/15 Written for Khaimin 's 'Letters to my younger self' contest 
this is such a good prompt!
I wanted to address the issues I had when I was younger and the poor body parts that got dragged along for the ride.
Edit: 'Letter to the Past' Contest Winners!
this is such a good prompt! I wanted to address the issues I had when I was younger and the poor body parts that got dragged along for the ride.
Edit: 'Letter to the Past' Contest Winners!
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This is inspirational. <3