A flawless you


He looked at me twice like oh-em-gee I didn’t see that coming.

The nonchalant glance saying…

I see you staring at me all the time,


I know what’s running on your mind,


I know you have a crush on me, so don’t hide.

This is what I like about him—he’s the silent type,

the shy but looking-like-a-genius kind.

He’s a little snob, heedless of my presence sometimes

But I find it sexy so I don’t really mind

He’s like the most gorgeous unpredictable guy I’ve seen ever.

Oh dear, can I just own you forever?

I tried to look away but my eyes keep coming back to him.

Maybe they merely enjoy the scene—them chinese eyes and thick brows, his perfect hair and tiny nose, and his subtle cheeks…

I’ve been wanting to smell and kiss.

Tell me how not to fall for you?

When all i see now is a flawless you.


(Special thanks again to my partner in life, Arvy for his original digital painting above.)



War of love (Part 1)

img_345725 minutes past 9 o’clock in the evening, but still no signs of him. Even a glimpse of his shadow haven’t showed up in our tryst. We were supposed to elope and start anew. We spoke about this plan yesterday and it was his idea to begin with—to finally leave all them things behind and forget about everything that didn’t matter. What matters most about our life now is the “us”. We are madly in love, crazy with each other, and I am but deeply attracted to him. Anton is my first love and hopefully he would also be the last.

But I don’t know anymore. I’ve been waiting for nearly 30 minutes now, almost feeling that sense of rejection, with no idea whether he will show up or not. I’ve been phoning him for the nth time, left him roughly 30 messages, but he hasn’t responded to any of it. I’m terrified now ’cause he always pick up each time I call. What if he changed his mind? Would he? Ugh, no.. this can’t be happening. He wouldn’t have a change of mind because I’m sure that he loves me, that he will marry me, like what he promised to me.

I’ve been going around the house, overthinking—my hands are intensely sweating and my nerves are pulsating heavily. I am nervously panicking inside my head. The inner voice in me are nearly killing me. He was never late—every single time he committed to me that he will be there, he usually shows up really early, thus this is very unusual to me.

Suddenly, I heard a loud sound of a car’s engine and them tires screeching as he park his black Mercedes outside our house. I sighed of relief and smiled nonchalantly knowing that the worry in me has now ceased. I am so excited to see him so I went outside so I can hug him tight being a sweet and impatient girlfriend that I am. Perhaps he was just stuck in traffic, I thought.

I left the front door open and kind of run my way to the car and I was startled when a different person got out from the driver’s seat. It wasn’t Anton. It was a woman. In her late 20’s, perhaps same age as Anton. I’m 19 and Anton was 10 years older than me. Age was just a number for me, it won’t really matter when you’re in love.

I felt like a breathing statue as I see her eyes narrowed whilst she scrutinize me from head to toe, twice. It was a moment of utter silence. I don’t know how long it lasted but all I know is that Anton is in trouble, and I am perhaps soon to be dead. This tall, slim woman who kind of looks like she hasn’t eaten for months is Anton’s ex wife. I’ve seen her in Facebook a few times. She’s wearing a black plain shirt and tight jeans and a white Adidas Superstar shoes. Her brunette hair was pony tailed, with bare face and swollen eyes that looked as if she cried the whole day. Her shirt looks a little over sized I could not even see her boobs. I smirked secretly as I remember the time Anton told me that my breasts are waaay better than his ex wife’s. He wasn’t lying after all. I didn’t really know what to say so I waited for her to speak, but she hasn’t uttered even a single word either. I was even looking forward for her to call me a bitch, but the lull is longer than I expected. Guess she didn’t know what to say too, but her eyes speak of rage as we face each other, only a few meters away from a possible UFC match. I suddenly got worried when I thought about Anton, where is he anyway? Why is his ex-wife here?

To be continued…


(The digital painting above is another beautiful creation of my boyfriend, Arvy. Special credit to him. #shewriteshepaints)

How are you?

You’re not okay.

Yet you kept on fooling yourself that you are.

You fake that smile without knowing your eyes show nothing but pure sorrow.

You’re in denial of it, because you don’t want people to know you’re in the brink of falling.

You post that selfie in social media to let your followers know that you’re okay.

But little did they know that behind that filter, your naked face apparently shows that you’re on the process of healing.

It’s not even a scar yet.

It’s a fresh wound, it’s still bleeding.

Due to that heartbreak,

due to that love that’s unrequited,

due to the dream that seems so far away,

due to that person who caused you pain,

due to the quarter life or mid life crisis you’re experiencing,

due to being unhappy with your job,

due to not knowing what you want,

due to the envy you feel towards others,

due to the depression you’re going through right now

It’s torturing you but when someone asked you a how-are-you, you always answer them with the I’m-okay lie.

You’re not okay and you even thought about leaving the town or your country and start anew elsewhere.

Didn’t you?

But you didn’t know where to start and you don’t even have the courage to commence a plan of escape.

To escape from reality, from the inevitable adult problems that is so hard to get rif off.

But hey, listen to me.

Why don’t you acknowledge the fact that you’re depressed about something?

Embrace the fact that your skin is wounded upto the deepest layer of your soul.

You are bound to get hurt—whether you like it or not.

Feel it with every nerve you’ve got so you get to know better the kind of pain you’re going through.

Once you find the root of it, pull it out like weeds that need to get cut off, so it won’t fester in other parts of you.

Because you are beautiful and a one single cause of being not okay should never define you.

This time, I hope you learn how to confide in your best friend or whoever it is that you fully trust, be vulnerable with them and share them your inner thoughts, tell them the truth that you’re not okay.

Go to your room or to church or to your favorite place and cry it out loud, release all the tears your eyes are capable of bursting.

Or better yet, write it down. Everything.

You will see a massive change in you once you start being honest with yourself.

Remember, it’s okay to not be okay as long as you’re not in denial of it so you can find a solution for it.

You’re not okay today, but I promise you, as clichéd as it may seem, this too shall pass.

(Photo credit to Pinterest)

She’s too much of a woman

She’s too much of a woman. An overthinker who analyses every detail. An incredibly intelligent one. A kind who gives more but expects little. She’s often abused for having such a trait, yet still she remains kind and munificent in her most modest way.

She’s too much of a woman, living a life of drama, but she keeps it to herself so no one knows her enigma. She writes about it instead, cries for it in bed, wipes it off once the pain is dead.

She’s too much of a woman, so she wonders everyday, about the existence of the world in the first place. She’s but a girl with a curious mind. Grew up with books and tons of questions in line. Some got answers, some got none. Still seeking for the rest to be unlocked at the right time.

Now she’s here, standing in front of a man. A man she loves with all sums of her being. A man of trouble she embraced with no ceiling. Yes she’s a smart woman, but lucidly stupid in this game she’s playing. Isn’t it ironic? That she’s highly clever but an outright stupid? A woman of class who falls for a narcissistic. A woman this man blames for overanalysing. For too much jealousy and envy, for her bunch of worries and insecurities.

She’s too much of a woman—this is what the man used as an excuse. So he left her ’cause he couldn’t manage her simple rules. Rules of sincere love and undivided attention. Don’t you know that’s what she’s only asking for?

(The digital painting above is an original creation of my boyfriend, Arvy. Special thanks to him for this beautiful piece of art.)


I wonder

I write about you ’cause I wonder,

if I take the chance, are we gonna end up together?

Aware of the image of another,

You told me you don’t care ’cause you’re a believer—

Of two souls who dance perfectly well with the tune of each heartbeat

Of like-minded people who are bound to meet

Of two hearts that ignite when the stars blink

Blessed by the sky and the moon and the heavens

I wonder, can we really make this happen?

(Photo credit to the owner)

The Pyschoweirdo’s voice (Part 2)

Who said I’m gonna fall for that crap? Seriously??? Ha ha. You don’t even have the faintest idea about who I truly am. I’m a one hell good of a liar so I’m not one who capitulates to that kind of bullsh*t. There are two voices inside me, however, that keeps on battling with each other. The devilish one said I must believe him, the angelic one though is obviously contradicting it—this angel’s voice urges me to do what I think was right, and not what everybody else think IS right. She’s been overruling me and I loved it that way. Ash will always be Ash. And not even a single mistake of sleeping with a good guy could turn this around.

Whilst listening to the hilarious debates of the two voices in my head, I stood up and waved for a taxi and asked the driver to bring me to Revel Bar, a different bar this time, so I can fulfill the needs of my skin and the tingling feels in my bones, I need to find a bad victim tonight. Otherwise, it’ll be boring.

I picked up my compact powder and put a little of retouch to my face to unleash yet again the lost glow because of the devil that suddenly spoke and argued with the angel I’ve been listening to for more than two decades. That Robbie guy provoked the devil to make me believe that someone could possibly like me on a deeper level. But what if the devil is right? Ugh nooo. Scratch that sh*t. I am bound to stand out, to be who I want to be, just as what the angel inside me has been telling me. That angelic voice has moulded the Ash that I am perfectly well. She has always pushed me to be different, to be bold enough to follow what I want because no one else can tell me what to do, because she said no one cares for me, no one could ever love me, and she’s just right about it.

I made a grand entrance in the bar as usual and everybody seemed to shower me with their seducing eyes speaking of lust and hunger, for the body I’ve been taking care of. You see, I like the attention, to be the center of it, to be the life of the scene, to see them poor eyes longing to touch me and to witness them fight for a single night with me. Because only one man could taste me tonight, one bad guy I’ve been thirsty of since three hours ago.

I saw a group of three guys at the center of the room, by the playbar, heedless of my presence. The ones who initially ignore my strong aura somehow turns me on, like the thought of a hunter finding it so hard to seek for the bear who’s hiding in the woods, it truly excites me.

The guy in the middle with dark colored almost curly hair wearing a plain white shirt and brown trousers, is the bomb. He has thick eyebrows that has complemented his brown or perhaps black eyes and his weird but naturally curled up lashes that looks so hot. He looks kinda Asian with that beautifully tanned complexion. He had no choice but to notice me as I distract them by making my way to the play bar, breaking the group by half, cutting off their non-sense conversations like an arrogant bitch, but the act made them giggle like hungry beasts after all. My skin slightly touched his by the elbow as I order a Martini, as his eyes looking straight to me, and now I’m a few inches away from a fantastic night. I had to secretly find out if he wears a wedding ring so my peripheral vision tried to help me but i see nothing. He smelled of a bad guy anyway so maybe it’s worth a try.

(Note: None of this story is true, this is just a pure product of my imagination, trying to improve myself in my pursuit of writing a novel.)