Keira Lau - Pink Kryptonite

I’m a romantic and a realist. 

Love acts like jello on my fingertips, 

slipping, falling. A vinyl that has collected 

enough dust, a record with dents and scratches. 

Holding onto the loose threads of fleeting memories, 

the overwhelming nostalgia and longing are 

too much to bear. 

The stench of forgotten things makes me sick. 

I can’t let it go. 

Reality sleeps on my shoulder and wakes up at night. 

There’s intimacy between us two, 

tilted heads and exposed necks. Vulnerability. 

It’s when curtains close, lights flicker off and 

eyes have a bright neon glow-

something claws at me, rips and shreds me, 

like a silent voice struggling to get past my throat. 

The heartbreaking truth and most charming reality 

tell me there’s hope- 

just not for me.