Cottagecore

with the power vested in me by the frosted cobblestones

It’s 6:00 am in a Bed & Breakfast in Innsbruck,
Our journey halted by tall snowmen standing on guard.

Climbing stairs to a snow-betrothed cottage, peering through grid windows, Seemingly the sharp trees & towering lampposts are guests to the weather-wedded boulevard.

A hearth room with four chairs and a periodical-ridden coffee table, Guesting a hot cocoa mustached lodger in woolen-hooded feet. Sleuthing across the wooden floor
To a library ridden with folklore and fable.

The grooves of a vintage record player have Sinatra now on cue,
Two pairs of fleece-silenced feet scurry along, smiling, mouthing,
“and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’.”

It’s 6:00 am in a Bed & Breakfast in Innsbruck,

I ponder over the woods I stopped by in this evening of Frost. The engine bellowed. I paused and glanced for one last look.

0

Same Room.

you traded my silver linings for her wedding band

Champagne eyelids.
Rosé cheeks.
Wine lips.
Unsettling haze makes itself at home,
The envious gasps fail to remain unknown.
A betrothal knee drops to the floor,
A well groomed carbon, mirrors chandelier lustre.
Polished fingertips extend,
An impending uproar crests…Salut!
A curtaining hairpiece escapes the clipping claw,
Trembling pale fingertips join the applause.
A settling haze slowly combs,
A guilted gaze makes itself known.
Wine smeared lips,
Rosé flushed cheeks,
Champagne drunk eyelids,

Inspired the forlorn night, she walked out the room
unmoored.

1

Bedside

what a shame

My eyes are weighted by slumber
My pacing heartbeat rebels
I blink with effort, my curtain bangs tickle my eyelids
It can’t be?
Yet suddenly, there lies you.
Your hair swooping down your forehead
I test reality, stroking the back of your neck
It radiates warmth, I fan my fingers across those baby hair
You flinch
My hands are cold
Like always though
So you sink into the familiarity
Deeper into my freezing palms
Sighing with comfort
I test reality, I inch closer
My arm is entangled in yours
My head is sinking into your beats
Drenched in deep slumber you slide your hand up and down my back
I inhale, deep
Reluctantly allowing my eyelids to close the shutter once, just for a moment
Regret inundates me
It can’t be?
Yet suddenly, there was no you
I test reality, expectantly floating my hands across your bedside
It’s still warm
So I guess you weren’t a ghost, yet you haunt me ever so often.

2

Fairy Lights & Stray Thoughts

“Paper bags drift wherever the wind blows, and mine’s full of receipts“

I hear melodic whispers of a singer in my ears
It seems as if he’s lived life through my eyes
I stare at the bare trees soaking in the rain
I notice the drowning grass being saved by the wind
There are aesthetic lights hanging on a restaurant at Little Five Points
There’s a white Christmas tree in a house
A green one in the next
Two wreathes and a million shimmering lights brighten up a cottage core-esque big house
I imagine a family of 6 baking cookies in matching pajamas dancing to Wham’s Christmas hit
The voice of the rain drenches me back into reality
Usually, the darkness forms a pit in my stomach
But today from the depths I feel flutters of a butterfly as soon as I notice the house with the four trees braided with fairy lights
I giggle at the two nutcrackers standing guard at the door
I reminisced the time I had at the grocery store 5 minutes ago
Buying detergent never felt as ecstatic as it did today
There were aisles of wrapping paper, aisles of holiday cards
My smile knew no bounds as I saw the shelf full of Taylor’s vinyls
I spent a good 30 minutes looking for a sweater for my mom and finally fell in love with 3, so I got ’em all
The caramel chocolate pretzels called out my name and I widened my eyes at the sight of them
Curbing any further reflexes I stood in line for check-out, I’d been more patient than I’ve ever been
I grabbed the two bags and thanked the person in the red t-shirt
The euphoria was ticklish when the cute barista smiled at me
My coffee breath was making me giddy too

This city calmed my questions of belonging,
The wind gently stroked the chaos of my mind as I paid attention to the lyrics strumming on my eardrum saying “ooh this town’s for the record now”

I guess I agree.
*smiles sillily*

“ooh, this town’s for the record now, the intersection got a Target”

(1:02)

0

Awaited Ambers

“I’m afraid I won’t greet you this time”

The soft, cold wind makes me blush.
I lose my stern shades, I lose my verdance.

I remember a century ago, maybe it was two.
It’s hard to keep track, time passed as these branches grew.

I remember the days before they came up with my name, “The Great Oak,”
I might be younger then, but believe me when I say, the effect has lingered.

I recall the fall foliage knocking off my leaves on the first of September.
It resembled a much-awaited embrace.

But I’m afraid I must admit, the past decades have lingered with insurmountable desolation.

The sun sets and rises, it’s harsher than it used to be.
My fall embrace greets me weeks later at times.
My shades are muted, the foliage is shorter, the winter is brutal.

When I stood bare in the numbing frost, I was inundated with reminiscence. With how it used to be.
When instead of smoke dense haze, my reddened leaves and the autumnal winds swayed glaring at the stars.
Trust me, on a good day, I made the twigs belive they could see Mars.

Spring soothes me, I gain my verdance yet I wait.
Each epoch, I’ve stood tall in the face of midsummer in await of my muse.

I’m afraid to say my love, my efforts were charred one fateful day in June.
I felt the heat trickling up one side, yet it didn’t feel uncommon,
I was habituated to the discomfort.
A sharp, less common horror crept up as I felt my exterior set ablaze.

These weren’t the orange hues I was waiting for.

2

Happy Birthday, Cowboy.

“I hope the memory’s killin you over there”

Last month I stood silent in the middle of an arcade on a foreign land.
I felt a strange void in my chest,
I was reminded of the way I felt when I realised you were leading me to our grave.
I was blinded to the joy from the bulbs that lit the entire street,
Deafened to the bliss of the laughs that seemed too genuine for me to believe.
I played a song on my headphones.
As I heard the way too familiar words we used to listen to together,
I allowed the remaining breath from my lungs escape as a rueful laugh.
I let the heaviness of the void carry me home,
Away from the blithe streets that remind me a little too much of you.
Just like everything else did.

Last week I chased shadows along the corners of the mall hoping to bump into you somehow.
I had to curb the reflexes that wanted to call you and narrate the tales of my blatantly uneventful day.
My playlist succumbed to a handful since I couldn’t listen to the ones that reminded me of you anymore.
I threw away the pictures we had taken on our secret hiding floor.
I sat quietly on my way home, with the windows down, begging the undulating wind to wash away the memories of you.
Because I hate the feeling of missing you, so sure that you’ll never feel that way too.

Knowing that I could cry just thinking of you.

Last night I awoke with a jolt, unsurprised that I had another dream starring you.
With eyes barely open and mind barely scratching the surface of my conscious, all I could think about was the stress of your birthday coming soon.
I couldn’t bring myself to wish you the same way I’ve done for the past 5 years,
But just so you know, I didn’t forget it.

Happy Birthday Cowboy.
I mean it.

“I know we’ve gone our different ways, but do you miss me the same?”

(1:09)

0

The Wishing Well

what if i don’t get my fairytale?

I imagined my love to be Cinderella’s wishing well
Charming structure, intricate carvings on the soft, delicate marble.
I’d imagine wishing upon it every moment for the existence of a love that would lean with me over the well top and fish out all the change in it,
Telling me how he’d use it to lay the foundation of our first house,
For our wedding champagne,
For our kid’s first toy.

He’ll use my wishes to grant me those I never thought I deserved.

But my well has no intricate carvings,
And I am no Cinderella.
There lay no marble anywhere near,
It stands high with these soft red bricks,
Every inch of it screams ‘austere’.

But that’s not the worst part.

It has this force it attracts me with when a dweller takes a second glance at me.
The chipped bricks prick my finger as I return a smile of warmth.
As the dweller inches closer, the force from the well grows stronger till it all goes black and I open my eyes to find myself gasping for air.

As I drown in the dark liquid of the well,
My limbs slowly become tired and my throat fills with water every time I yell the dweller’s name.
As my chest starts to hurt, I catch a glimpse of his blank stare as he mouths ‘i’m sorry’ and leaves.

I hear the footsteps fading as I feel the warmth of my tears contrasting the cold water of the well.

So I add these weights to my boots,
As for the next time, I shall not go through this again.
But the next dweller comes in with this gush of wind and sweeps me off my feet.
But instead of him opening up his arms to take me in,
He lets me drown and as I feel the splash of the cold on the back of my head,
I question,

“How the hell did you end up here?”
“Weren’t you careful?”
“Wiser?”
“Tougher?”
“Weighted?”

I blame myself as I catch a glimpse of his blank gaze
Right before I hear his fainting footsteps.
I grasp the dents of the chipped bricks inside the well.
The indentations help me grip, just like they did before and I pull myself out.

Drenched.

Drenched in his memory.

Drenched…
in his indifference.

5

Our Cosmic Tale

One day the stars will narrate our fable

You told me each star had a story
They combined to form galaxies, the chapters in the book of the universe
You told me you’d read it to me one day

You said that we’ll find our solitude in a place in the middle of nowhere
We’ll lay a blanket on the forest floor at midnight
We won’t need a candle, the stars will be our nightlight
We’d stare at the sky and laugh because the Ursa Major looks more like a trolley than the Great Bear
We’d plan our next date, hopefully on a beautiful crater on the moon
We won’t need a candle, the sun will be our light
I could make a joke saying, “I’m over the moon for ya”
And while you’d shake your head in utter disappointment, the smile in my eyes would make you laugh

While we lay in the middle of nowhere, I’ll stare at you as you stare at the stars
And with sheer passion explain to me how every star that collided, asteroid that fell, planet that formed, led the world where it is today
Every star that collided, asteroid that fell, planet that formed, led me to you

I’d fold my lips and widen my eyes as they spill with happiness which even the blood in my cheeks couldn’t endure

You’d hold my hand and gently stroke your thumb against my knuckles in the shape of a triangle and another one over it, only inverted
It would take me a second to realise that it’s a star, but then I’d smile a little too wide and you would gaze at me a little too long

That night
We won’t move, we won’t flinch
We’d stare at the night sky for a while and then a little more after that, and a little more after that, and a little more after that.

4

A Tale of Her

She lies but her intentions are honest.

She’s the girl that longs for the tree shade during days and the sun during midnight.
She’s the mismatched girl whose woes I’ll narrate tonight.

She’s the girl that longs for you too much yet her cold demeanour is all she portrays.
She’s the mismatched girl that lets go of your hold too quick when all she wants is your tight embrace.

She’s the girl that curls up in the bed too hard, when coming up to your house and ringing your doorbell is all she wants to do.
She’s the mismatched girl that suddenly smiles with tears in her eyes, because a thought popped up while she cried, and that thought was you.

She’s the girl that makes fun of that jacket you wear 24×7, but is a mastermind planning to steal it.
She’s the mismatched girl that avoids you when she cries when all she wants is your fingers finding a way to her own till they interlock and fit.

She’s the girl that promises to be honest with you, but she does lie in anxiety for more than one night.
She’s the mismatched girl that’ll long for you reassurance even if she claims she’s always right.

She’s the girl who says she is prepared for a goodbye even though her lies are visible through and through.
She’s the mismatched girl that’ll never admit that for her it’s you…it’s always you.

2

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