Melody Chen

And even afterwards, you had a way of leaking back into my life,
Seeping into my words like a broken fountain pen.
No, perhaps ‘flooding’ is more appropriate, the way
You exuded my mind as a swarm of writing prompts,
Sweeping through, making a home in all my emptiness,
Romanticising the way loneliness wrapped its tendrils around my neck;
Mascara-smudged eyes, ice-cream binge clichés,
Offering a vaccine to writer’s block
(How could a writer, of all people, refuse that?)

But of all the words that have slipped from my mouth,
Of all the words that you so unknowingly stained,
These will be the last, I am sure of it,
For there must be lighter things to write about
Than bleeding hearts and charred souls.

I am finally sick of the forced giggles and loud voices that
Push through these lips – my lips, that walked into other lips the way…

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Ode to Daughter

Melody Chen

Dear daughter,
You were born a child of the universe.
You entered battling meteors on the backs of shooting stars,
Found your voice alongside thunderstorms and earthquakes,
Wrote your name into a constellation, and carved out your own orbits.
You can paint the entire galaxy from memory,
So don’t you dare tell me you are afraid of glass, because

Dear daughter,
Sometimes, the world will rob you of what is rightfully yours,
But that is why you were given legs, so you can chase after adversity the way lightening chases darkness.
I want you to be like the lakes that shine, so stubbornly blue, even when the sky is grey.
You are not to be silenced by full stops, expiry dates,
You are no contortionist, you were never able to fit into boxes.
Your voice is not laundry that can be folded and put away.
Never apologise for being right…

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Convenient love

And i want to chase the real things in life,

but you keep pushing me to the safety of the empty

Or rather, i keep pushing myself to the safety of the empty things in life




Kill the society in your head

That never ending concert of pretentiousness

This farce this performance this

Voice – self-obsession

This disgust

Dear diary

I’m going to go home, reset my nusnet password. Do things for myself, live for myself, stop crying over myself even if its a self not worth living 

Slow down

Yes i am that fucked up person with the bubblegum hair drinking vodka mudshakes at the evening bus stop

Yes i’m drinking to the slow death of my emotions, to the better days that lie ahead to the empty evening loneliness that i love

and makes me smile underneath

Yeah i’ll get through this and maybe one day, i’ll stop asking why happiness is so sad without needing the alcohol to say these words



I’m always alone when this kind of things happen

When i fess up – things mess up

Blow up because i’m just so fucking stupid

And maybe i like it better alone

The stations slip by slowly

Painful distance building – maybe it’s always been there because i’m so selfish.

All i wanted was all of you.