Leaena's Dear Diary

"The only constant thing is the ever changing heart of men," I heard it and buried it for years. Therefore, I unearth words of change again. I wash my face with these words to remind my eyes that no strength can hold the time, no power can freeze a s

I drank a fuchsia earth and it walked my tongue. Pulled my mouth ever so slyly to gobble her molded lump. I need a drug to destroy the lump in my throat. I need a rain to cleanse my gums, thatched with bitter truth. Need a vacuum to digest this mold

I still refuse to believe it. I still taste my dried mouth. Still remember denying reality.Like a resigned soldier in the battlefield. Like an abandoned sibling in domestic violence. We are the only one now.       Who shall fight for us now?

I am starting with an infected existence. Long long ago, I was poisoned by a fairytale. I reckon flowers are blooming in my head and the trees are dancing in my chest. The vines of happily-ever-after has still not released me from its clutch. My mind

I cannot fathom the depth of her dense sorrows. She drowned in a horror too dark for her sight. Her nightmare dragged her down to a dungeon she has not escaped. She has held onto herself for a light. She has scraped for a meal in the dark. She has ga

This...this is loneliness. It's when every sound blooms in agony. The cold seeps through the gaps and I vividly taste my heartbeat like a marred corpse. I question my skin and my mind shivers. I fear no one but myself. Yours even as I fear to be ***

How do I let go of your sleeve, so that I may not burn you? I still faintly smell your hair as I leaned on your shoulder when you carried me. Even now, I am that constant blubbering child, hugging you like I can keep you forever. Even now, I remember

I want to fall on a bed of flowers and hum to the sky. Feel the cold wind while it whispers. The town is too shabby for an old stray like my soul. I want to smell the earth sleeping under me. Feel the stem crumbled beneath me while the sun slumbers u

I will drink this life sober. I will be high on hopes and drunk on poems.  All randezvous with hurdles will be swallowed with angst.  All through winter, I will be addicted on the miscellaneous thoughts of existence.  Use substance of fiction to c

Once in a dawn, if I wake up to dismantle my fantasy, how good will you be? You could simply be my figment of imagination. Maybe, you are just what I imagined tomorrow. Perhaps, I see only your honeyed words.  Haply, you are all, but my silly fiction

I can do it. I will create a sanctuary in my mind. I can be my own salvation. Embrace my worst fear and just live. Just exist because what is so wrong with it?  Yours truly

I just want to close my eyes tenderly, and lay on a meadow with flowers I cannot name. Let my skin tastes dirts. I want to hear the wind in the air and a river hidden in the woods. Once in a little while, I would dive in the river until I learn to br

I will take all of me. I will cultivate all of my miseries and anxiety in hopeful haven. All of my joy in a tiny boxed dreams from wonderland. I will nurture all of anger and fear in the wasteland of beings. Embrace all of my shenanigans in the corne

Death is just a destination. Time is merely a cruel friend. Life is simply a flickering lamp.

Every prose I write sounds like a lovers plea because I feel so deeply. Even a family becomes a neglected partner, a friend, a nefarios better half and an acquaintance, a passing passion. Therefore, I fear I will crumble so greatly if I ever do love