Wong Yit Mun Cyril

Rooms Someone told me that the next step would be of reflection, a darkened room of a dream I entered, hunkering down in a corner, remembering everything you ever did to me. Next was anger, a darker room, and it was easy to lose myself here, flouncing from one wall to another with my hands in my hair, only to feel the padding on the wall, like the inside of an asylum. Then I had to move on into denial, but this time, I locked myself in, even as a hundred fists descended on my door, insisting that I forget you, that I actually forget you. When it was time for acceptance, it was another room once more, but this time with a table for two, not round but square, with You seated at one end and I the other. But smiling, you rose and left, while I attempted to follow you out, only to realise you had disappeared, and there wasn't any door.

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