The shadow


In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours,

In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.

I do not love you as if you were salt rose,

Or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

In secret between the shadow and the soul.

That’s where we exist,

That is where you want to be and where you belong;

Although it is not where I want you to be, where we should be.

As certain as your past held you back from declaring your love,

Just as much certainty in the effect,

As certain as the cause that leads;

To the inability to shape our path, to seeing how much stronger we can be

Or the difference we can make to shape mankind;

For no difference can be made lurking in the shadows,

Turning the most magical insignificant.

Your lack of faith in me, in seeing me as the masses when you know I am the only one.

Oh how little you know me when you have seen so much.

I have died and you brought me back to life,

Only to kill me again.






Leave a comment

Filed under On finding love

Why aren’t you married?



When you are single and are sick of the question “Why aren’t you married, here’s a list of clever comebacks for you–

  • You haven’t asked yet.
  • I was hoping to do something meaningful with my life.
  • Because I just love hearing this question.
  • Just lucky, I guess.
  • It gives my mother something to live for.
  • My fiancée is awaiting his/her parole.
  • I’m still hoping for a shot at Miss/Mr. America.
  • I’m waiting until I get to be your age.
  • It didn’t seem worth a blood test.
  • I already have enough laundry to do, thank you.
  • I guess it just goes to prove that you can’t trust those voodoo doll rituals.
  • Why aren’t you thin?
  • I’m married to my career, although recently we have been considering a trial separation.
  • Bonus reply for Single Mothers: Because having a husband and a child would be redundant.

Leave a comment

Filed under On finding love


Reflections by Allegra C.

I do until I don’t know what to do but to call you. But I will never tell the real reason why because the heart is egotistical too. 

What are we? People kept asking me:

What are you to me?

And what am I to you?

Only this I know is true…

You are an enigma,

One I can’t let go,

You’re a shade of grey, a stigmata

Of all that I am, that only God and the devil know.


A good place to be, togetherness. Because there’s nothing like you and I together. 

We are together,

On my mind, always; the little things that matter,

Tried to switch you off but it’s not working,

Your name on my lips, dancing; rhymes with everything.

I don’t want to call it anything,

Even though it is nothing short of amazing,

Living in the now, loving what we have, when we have it;

Why would we have to label it to make what we feel legit?

Nothing about us is conventional, why should what we are be?

Not a typical boyfriend, a husband or a fuck buddy.

You make me high, better than ecstasy,

After all, it is not in the destination, but in the journey.

But if I had to call it something…

It is an epic in the making.

You are an obsession, a passionate revelation.

Whenever I’m lost, you are my direction.

I want you to know how you make me want to,

Paint rainbows all above you,

Masks you from the haze,

Be the dancing light in your dark maze.

Because you make me feel like a million bucks,

Even though at times reality sucks;

You’re a sweet distraction, a true validation

That love exists without expectation.


What is he to me? Let me elucidate thee,

I am him and he is me.

When I look in the mirror it is him I see,

A revelation in my reflections of what we could be.

A vision of you and me.

~Allegra C. 

Leave a comment

Filed under On finding love

Operation Bluebird


I have a blue bird, we are tight

Invincible, it has never seen light

Frozen but sweaty and tongue-tied,

Under the big and bright spotlight

I’m thinking it would only be right

To stand up, conquer, relinquish, fight

And release the blue bird, let it take flight.

But how?

This blue bird I have always known

Have only grown

And then came the phoenix

He is a swift fellow

We have been friends, you know

On a daily he would come to my window

Consistent, comforting, beguiling,

We just have this thing.

The phoenix met the bluebird one fine day

On a stage that is not a stage,

At the beginning of spring come what may

A day reserved for the sage.

He saw my hands tremble, heck so did everybody!

When our eyes met, I lost all control.

That night on the window, blanketed with melancholy,

Caused by the blue bird who won’t go away;

He soothed my soul.

“What are you afraid of?” He asked.

The mystery of the blue bird he was attempting to unmask.

“Is it because you don’t want to be judged?”


The phoenix swept his way into the depth of my fear.

Seeking to understand, the blue blrd that was trapped inside.

Phoenix: What do you fear, siren?  Is it of being judged?

Siren: Yes and of making a mistake and failing miserably. Fear of looking  stupid.

Phoenix: Why do you fear looking stupid? Are you afraid of people not seeing the real you inside, who you truly are and what you can be?

Siren: Because I am not. I don’t quite understand this fear, my dear phoenix.

Phoenix: Do you need everyone to see that? Want is different from need. Do you need?

Siren: No I don’t.

Phoenix: Who would you need to see that then?

Siren: I want certain people to see.

Phoenix: These certain people, who are they?

Siren: Apparently you’re one of them.

Phoenix: Haha. It’s an honour to be :) These certain people, do you think they already see it?

Siren: Sometimes when people don’t show you how you would show, you worry it’s not there.

Phoenix: That’s us expecting others to act and behave like us. Which is kind of like expecting every guy to have the same exact penis.

These certain people, do you think they see it – who you truly are and what you can be?

Siren: Haha. Good analogy. Gotcha! I guess they do, don’t they? Except my dad. I have daddy issues.

Phoenix: If they really don’t, they wouldn’t be worthy of belonging to the certain people category usually.

Siren: I guess not.

Phoenix: It could be two possibilities with your dad. The first is he sees it, but he suck big time in expressing it due to ego, pride or he just doesn’t know how. The second is that he doesn’t see it, even though he is your dad. He never saw you as being good enough in his eyes or his own standards. This is unlikely, but it happens.

Siren: I think it’s more of the inability to express and a matter of ego. The down fall of men.

Phoenix: The thing is, either or, it is an issue he has. Not you.

Siren: He told me he is proud of me once. On my FB wall.

Phoenix: So when you say Daddy issues, it’s actually Daddy has issues, and I’m affected by it. He is the one who needs help and encouragement, not you.

Siren: Poor daddy, has issues. :)

Phoenix: Men always do. Have issues. :)

Siren: That they do, wise phoenix. We all do.


He didn’t stop there,

And I continued to bare

A ray of light emerged

Where it was once dark despair;

I felt healed.

Right here in the lair.


And then just like magic, the blue bird took flight!

Comfortable, at ease under the rain of lights,

It was genuine, the siren’s smile.

Was quite a wait, but worth the while.

The phoenix did it, freed the blue bird,

Released from the darkness, or so I heard.

Of Swallow and Bluebird

“You know, they say that true love is a bird called swallow.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Nothing but the truth

Confessions of a mermaid


“At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.” ~ Plato.

Just because Sundays are perfect for a little poetry. Let love inspires. <3

I have been terrified.

But I am no longer scared of you, heartbreak.

Because I want to live.

And to live is to love.

So here I am, letting the invisible wall around my heart crumble, scale by scale;

Letting the spots reveal themselves under the morning rays,

And disappear in my reflections on the water’s surface.

I surrender to the pleasure that only you can bring,

You mark my awakening.

Makes me feel almost human.

I am no longer afraid.

Daring to fall,

Into your solitary world.

Wrapped up deep in your spell,

For I am never afraid of the depth of the unknown;

Only of the shallowness of the living.

Aida Jasmine 

Mermaid / Pacific ocean 

Leave a comment

Filed under On finding love


Are you my missing piece?

To live is to love.

A Sunday spill of emotions from a heart brimming with oxytocin.

At the end of the day, it is just nice to come home to someone we can’t get enough of.  Someone we want to kiss and hold and share pieces of our lives with. Happy Sunday! <3


Here I am, on a journey of life

And our paths crossed.

You brought out the woman in me,

Made me coffee;

A series of firsts and new adventures, awesome memories

They will stay with us for the rest of our lives, for eternity.

You gave me significance, courage to face anything and be something

But most of all, you let me be me.

We are pieces that make us whole.

I found pieces in you…

Pieces of me.

A / J

Leave a comment

Filed under On finding love


I met Jennifer, the owner of the hair and nail salon at Oasis for the first time on my third visit. After three years of living in the area, I think I have finally found a spot for my regular maintenance. She complimented my accessories. I was wearing the white beads and pearly shells necklace. Studs on my ears. Tiffany’s-inspired affinity stack on my wrist.

I was in for a new colour after a year of wearing my natural shade. The silver strands were making appearances. It’s time for a new look to mark this period of my life anyway. The fall and the rise of a woman.

The salon was busy, it was the week before Christmas. Jennifer had to chip in at the hair department because Annie, her only hairstylist was stretched in three different ways. She admitted having no experience washing people’s hair. I believed her but I let the tai-tai wash mine when she asked if I would not mind.

Jennifer posed a question, one based on first impression. The fault of being human and of being Malaysians is that we are an inquisitive bunch. Kepochi to the max.

“You’re not one of those typical Malays, are you?”

“What do you mean?” I needed her to elaborate.

“Malays don’t paint their nails,” she said.

“Well I don’t want to limit the possibilities of having my fingers and toes sucked,” I cracked a joke as an attempt to avoid going into the real reason why I can’t have my nails bare, unpainted. Being a good muslim dictates following the five rukun Islam, one of which is performing the five times a day prayer. The wuduk (cleansing ritual prior to performing solat) is not thorough apparently with the nails covered in colour. I don’t see the logic in this.

I have a medical condition which renders my nails unfit for public appearances. It affects my confidence and I need my confidence to function in society. So do I follow the masses and become a recluse retracting into a bubble of me, myself and I; or do I interpret the message in the great book using my own logical thinking?

So l pray…with my painted nails. If He created me, He must love me. And if He loves me, He would accept me in however way I kneel to Him in prayers.

“Are you married?”

It was the obvious next question as she did the obligatory get to know her client routine. The inevitable variation of the question about marriage – are you, have you, why haven’t you again; have over the years limit my appearances at family gatherings, which will only happen on obligatory basis like during Raya and funerals. In a twisted way, funerals are the best family gatherings because we are usually focused on saying goodbye, remembering and honouring the passed on as we should be. No one would be trying to crack my case at funerals. A case of the divorced, eligible but unattainable woman with a cat, a closet full of shoes, dresser littered with accessories and chests filled with handbags.

“No, I’m divorced. Have been single for more than four years now,” I told her.

“Oh you must have many boyfriends. I’m thinking your boyfriends must all be mat saleh,” she assumed.

“Alamak, not all lah,” I answered her with an ear-to-ear smile. Visions of a certain muse came to mind. When I was younger, I have thought that I would end up with a kwailo. I met an old friend whom I have not met in 20 years and she echoed the thought.

But let’s face it, there is a lure in sharing a connection with someone who gets your culture and heritage and can relate. Like when I start texting in a Negeri dialect, no one would get that except someone who was born and raised in Negeri Sembilan. Majority of the new generation do not speak the dialect anymore. Someone that gets this piece in all its local linguistic flavour, is totally alluring in my book.

Variety is the spice of life. What is amazing is when you find someone you can connect with on so many levels. And that kind of connection can happen not just with a pharang, or a mat saleh; or dictated by race, religion or culture. I am not a Filipino stereotype. At the end of the day, all we need to be happy is to be with someone who appreciates our different flavours and who embraces all the things that makes us different.

Flavours of a man (that gets me)

The reader


He is well-read.


The traveler


He has seen different parts of the world.

The lover


He is loveable and shows you love.

The kisser


He can ignite the fire with a kiss. Every time.

The foodie


He lives to eat your cooking.

The pro-activist

He encourages you to shine and do your thing. He fights for worthy causes.

Non Conformist

He is not afraid to stand alone from the crowd.


I am a Malay with Chinese blood. You can say I’m a typical Malaysian. But that is about all that is typical about me. Xin Nian Quai Le.


Leave a comment

Filed under Hot lists, On finding love