You know where you are with
You crept into my thoughts again last night
And the fading memory of you
The smell of Morocco at the crook of your neck, the tip of your nose where my lips once brazed
All did nothing to calm my racing heartbeat
The memory of you
Squeezed into tiny ink droplets
So insignificant, so minute
Yet that is all I can manage to do
To write this pain away
The hours spent downing shots of vodka
And the countless days spent glancing in mock nonchalance at my phone
Hoping, willing, and
(As much as I hate it)
Begging that you would call
Normalcy is reserved for the un-loved, you said
And maybe you have been right all along
(Why doesn’t heartache come with a manual?)
I’m sorry, but I can’t do all these yet
So give me 5 minutes, perhaps 20, to let reality sink in
So I can finally remove these rose tinted glasses of mine.
About me
She can talk to you for three hours straight, making you laugh, cry or simply wanting to stab your eyes with a pencil. Meet Stephanie Gwee, a struggling Political Science student and a freelance tech and lifestyle writer, who more often than not, simply wants to sit in a corner, indulge in a bout of people-watching and sip on low-fat Hazelnut Latte.Her desire to purchase the world’s supply of Chanel bags (and her love for the written word) had pushed her to become a freelance writer for the most widely circulated broadsheet in Singapore. Having a love for both consumer gadgets and fashion, she writes for the paper’s tech supplement, as well as their fashion counterpart. Though far from achieving her lofty Chanel ambition, her writing stints help to pay for her hefty mobile phone bills.
She invites you to email her at stephgwee@gmail.com if you are looking for freelance writers or just someone to talk to. Or you simply wish to donate to the “Buy-Steph-A-Chanel” fund.
