to romance a mantle

protective layers of
veils and raining hailstones
will withdraw back from the sky.
at sight. i no longer feel alone
and where is it one of safe,
longing, place that continuously
expands with my heart.

you wrapped lovingly
around my shoulders
in bliss and beatitude.
i savour soft silk,
vivacious velvet that you
weave from your own hands.
i wear you like
i wear hearts on my sleeve.

you are nearly transparent,
lucid that i see through you as day.
when i rumble my engines,
roar kick to life,
heaven forbid my wrath
that can only be bridled by you.
trembling so that i can
spark with my incandescence.

crushed between forces,
pressurised; restrained.
you want to go with the flow,
under caution, unless the plates shift drastically, violent
will you free yourself. i am glad that my eyes have witnessed it firsthand.

staring ever so longingly into your irises,
you have bloomed so beautifully,
so tender. every day is now
halcyon, i love admiring pretty things
and it so happens that you are one.
my cheeks are pinkish warm,
soft hues of french rose, crepe and

this family heirloom has been passed down for generation.
i know that we are not fit for this asian culture, a traditionalist mindset so fixated that is rigid; ice shatters easily.
but i foresee that as we take our vows,
facing you i assume this role
to protect and care for you, eternally.

Isabelle Chum

In the midst of Sea

O, glorious sea, you are the life of this world.
O, magnificent waters, you are the gateway to a new world.
O, captivating tides, you extend this world beyond the horizon,
Shifting and dancing in the vast, illuminated seas.

As the waters of the enchanting Aegean crash on the shores,
As the therapeutic sounds of the waves mesmerise onlookers,
One never fails to wonder
About the endless beauties of the sea.

Away from the incessant troubles of the land,
Away from the horrors inland,
Away from the cataclysm of the plateaus and valleys,
As they set sail into the midst of the sea.

Now we live on scraps,
Now we barely scrape by,
Even the enchanting waters cannot wash away pain,
Instead drowning out our sorrows
For none to hear.

Who thought of the sea as the gateway to the mind?
Who actually believed in the magic of the sea?
Perhaps the sea could have been so,
Had life ashore been different.

The tale of the three spinners never ceases to amaze,
As the lowest of the low are not yet lowest.
Yet even the deepest trenches must end somewhere;
Have we not hit rock bottom?



Image credits (in order of appearance)

  1. Photo by Petr Ovralov on Unsplash



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