The 3 death of my life.

1)Death of my uncle.

2)Death of a relationship.

3)Death of a crush.

Life has changed alot for me at least in a short period of time. As i grow up, i realise how fragile life can be. Even when death seems to strike me so close, i am still puzzled by how intricate it is. I wonder how I would cope with the death of my love ones. Somehow i learnt that death is ultimately inevitable for everyone. A death of a relationship and a crush seems like an ultimate combo to me. Maybe a short getaway from Singapore on thursday to Thailand might well be the remedy.

Next on my list is to find a perfect soulmate? No. I need friends:) And I’ve plenty. Which concludes that i dont make much sense afer all. My hunt for the perfect soulmate will start… soon. perhaps. Maybe it’s really time for me to go on a date because the last date I had was 2 years ago. No one will believe me but yes it is the truth. Hot people dont go on date that often too. And the fact is that hot people are often being deprived of dates. Because half the time I will be trying to convince people that I am single and unwanted.

Plus I’ve decided to re-read “Ariel” by Sylvia Plath and extracted a poem from her collection to share with all of you. She’s a very talented and very much celebrated poet till now for her contribution to the literature scene.

Death & Co.

Two, of course there are two.
It seems perfectly natural now——
The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded
And balled¸ like Blake's.
Who exhibits

The birthmarks that are his trademark——
The scald scar of water,
The nude
Verdigris of the condor.
I am red meat. His beak

Claps sidewise: I am not his yet.
He tells me how badly I photograph.
He tells me how sweet
The babies look in their hospital
Icebox, a simple

Frill at the neck
Then the flutings of their Ionian
Death-gowns.
Then two little feet.
He does not smile or smoke.

The other does that
His hair long and plausive
Bastard
Masturbating a glitter
He wants to be loved.

I do not stir.
The frost makes a flower,
The dew makes a star,
The dead bell,
The dead bell.

Somebody's done for.