The history I miss

I miss the smell of sweat on tanned skin
A painful toe throbbing inside one, brown, boot
The sounds of the forest,
flitting mosquitoes threatening to bite
Avoiding the shade, moving along with the sun in our eyes
Mumbling “Sorry” as we trudged on our forefathers’ tombstones
Asking are these mere mounds of earth,
Or thousands of mountains of lives-
This became my favourite way to celebrate Christmastime.

I miss the night we sat at the Waterfront
Knowing home is not where you live, your, life
It’s somewhere you return to, exhausted
We sat admiring the Lion City skyline
Before watching bionic giants
Crash into the UOB building-
We take pride in the love-hate
Relationship we have with this country.

I miss the feeling of cold beer
Slushing against my gums and sliding, down, this throat
Always swallowing but never foreseeing
How far your ignorance has brought us:
My eyes feigning composure,
This heart heavy with history
Just like your broken Blackberry
At the bottom of the Singapore River.

I miss the tropic heat
I didn’t get to feel between us
Before walking through those glass doors
I kissed your neck, I wanted to hang, on, tight
But time;
The idea of
Six months scrunching in my pocket
Only to dismiss it soon after
Oh what a racket all that commitment made-
I’m a big girl now,
This time I didn’t cry on the plane.

So this time
I’ll miss the heat,
I’ll miss the cold
But I think
I’ll miss the shape of your back the most.


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