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By: Deborah Wong


Best Kept Secret


You still think of/love him

Despite what he has done

The pain he'd caused.

Trying to forget. It takes some time

and then finally you did.


Thumbs up! Bravo!


If it wasn't that song, reminding you

of how sweet those memories were –

that love comes quick, the snap haunts

like burning thousand miles.


You walked into display of jigsaw

puzzles, and then there was one

the unfinished. You put your heart in

it. What if it doesn't fit the picture

you've been hoping for?


Will you torch the place?


I'm in need to take that nail to the end,

unafraid of whatever that has been playing

in my system like a black sheep;

parental-less and unwanted - overflowing -

fissure of tomorrow. I'll encounter and counter

the undying hymns.


Drop that knife, child.


I've chosen to comprehend the words before

it were never heard. Whether it'll make it

into our insanity, you were cracking pathetic

skull, groaning time doesn't wait no one

but you’ve no trigger to pull. This country

has banned violence for suicidal commoners.


We came across the dimension of faith

with no law of Algebra and desperation.

Drinking literacy straight from the bowl

Heads hold upward, not walking the talk

You asked me to be the best kept secret

Should've said no due to absurdity –







I look into your pupils of ignition

And then the hatred emerges

Make no further mistakes


It isn’t our wrongdoing

You are who to say

I’m not your Adam’s Rib in the cage


The fault isn’t a juggernaut

When you miss countless harbours

along the way. Are you sick


of trying to love that one and only –

physical with mental think-tank. Do not give

up that speed of light. Me here and you see nothing.  


You’re porcelain; a curse to have been broken

Mature enough to decipher potency, but you

are digging your grave, loving a woman


that un-exist in your path. That evening when

we breathe each other. Suddenly the

urge to brush your skin. My eyes


closed, learning the meta-universe

behind with tongue of haunting

fairy tale. The pain giggles through


those flipping crickets. Your songs inside

my walking gravity. Awaiting the first to

leave this game. Dirt is surfacing holiness.


Judge not your fingers, in racing against time

Who the Virgin Mother in the making is?

Should you know she’s a pretentious package?


I’ve shifted my direction, the reflection

in you staring no more. At the collective

measures, and eventually,

am loosening the orbit that clashes

among the insomniac.






Looking Back and Drowning In


I dreamed of you last night

How you've been keeping, my dear?

It’s been seven and a half years;

though it feels like yesterday

when we were chasing roses & lavenders.


We were talking like the old times

Your protective arm over my shoulder,

complaining of my decreased weight

I turned away, afraid you might see

what's hiding beneath my soul


I know, you've been blaming me

for throwing you into the carousel

of sufferings. Your friends, too

calling me displeasing names, cursing

that my best days are yet to arrive


What if I'm telling you I've been living

in a nonredeemable state of conscience?

Would you be happier then?

There's a life I wished it never happen

to anybody. Let me be your Lamb of God. 


Still, I prayed for you each night

Apologies is the least perfect word

to describe this devastated parting

You never want my comfort

Still, I ask God to keep you safe




Born and raised in Kuala Lumpur, Deborah Wong is of second generation Malaysian-Chinese descent. A law graduate from the University of London, she attended creative writing courses at the University of British Columbia. Her poems have been published locally and internationally; and recently accepted by Mad Swirl, Eastlit, Vox Poetica and The Tower Journal. She's also working on her first novel, while seeking publication for her first full-length poetry book. She tweets often at @PetiteDeborah      

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