by Liy Yusof. "One day, I too will be in your blood / My concrete, my playlists, the air and disaster / health of my whorehouse heart"

by Liy Yusof. "There was a song you used to sing; but it hums only / for itself now."

At 23, I wrote a romantic poem about back pain.

by Liy. "one: pot of gold, poisoned apple, beanstalk. an unread message."

by Liy. "Understand that your horizon groans heavy / with the burden of absorbing human grief"