Ah. Love. I forget what it is like almost.
Then I think of bygone eras and so many futures. Then, I think of you.
Love. What an embodiment of love. But the feeling burnt out just as you did too.
That last moment on the hospital bed when you said, I'm sorry, I was just using you.
#momentdownthememorylane
Nanotales on the theme "love is not for sale"...ideas built in competition mode.
#1
"You can woo me all you want", he said. "Giving me clothes, a bike, a mobile, anything you think I need. But I already told you, I can't fall in love." "I never intended to buy it. My love isn't for sale either," she calmly replied.
#2
After her purchase at the market, I ordered her to love me. "My love ain't for sale mister," she replied, "Only me."
#3
- Mom, no! I can't sell them!
- We can't look after them.
- These puppies are my love, and you told me...
- Love is not for sale.
They smiled.
A piece of conversation -
- How can I make you understand?
- Touch me. Make me feel. Make me feel the waves of the sea and the thunder of the surf. Make me feel. Touch me. Touch me like a piece of china or a delicate doll. Touch me. Make me feel. Make me feel the oceans of your mind in your touch and send shivers down my spine. Make me want you because I don't need you but I need to want you if I should let you touch me. Make me feel. Words should cease now and your actions should betray your passion. Touch me like I'm electricity, like I'm ice and you're fire. But first, make me feel.
- Touch you?
- Only if you can make me feel.
You break.
Oh so beautifully, you break.
You break into a million shards,
We collect them all.
Each time with bloody fingers,
On lost loves and old loves,
On all loves we spill blood
And glue it together, all.
You break again,
You break, oh so beautifully.
So beautifully that I fall silent,
I forget this is my friend
And not a lover unheld
In my arms when he needed.
Ah, you break time after time,
We catch each piece with
Arms scratched with love,
Red paint on blue sleeves
And white collars.
Sometimes your collar is blue.
I still love you.
Why is it that words pour out of me, now that I'm alone in the dark and thinking of your hands slipping from my cheek to my shoulder to my arms to my chest to my stomach to my legs to my warmth? Words pour out of me, now when you're miles away with nothing to say, and I miss you going down on me and I miss you holding on to me like a life jacket and you're drowning in your sleep and I miss holding you close to my chest, my arm numb yet being your unmoving pillow and my arm imprisoning you to me. Words pour out of me, now when I am truly alone and I realise that you loved me and I let a good woman go, I let you go after slapping you, pushing you, shouting at you, humiliating you, and yet never realised that my anger at you was not at you but at myself. Words pour out of me now, when I see pictures of you happy in the arms of someone else, a wedding ring on your finger marking your submission now to him and not to me, even though I was the first to possess you and mark you with love bites all the way down your neck as I thought you craved them. Words pour out of me now after seeing that you have changed and that you are able to look at me with the same smile that stole my heart one drunken night under the stars on a lonely park, bright even without streetlights because your smile was enough to light my darkness. Words pour out of me now that I find myself alone again, to face my demons and now they have your face with a black eye, bruises on your thighs, a chipped tooth and a smile and I realise you were my possession and I wasn't willing to share you anymore not even with myself when you transformed from a human being into an object and I want to say I am sorry. Words pour out of me now, now I see that you are smiling the same smile you had when I gave you that rose on Valentine's that you kept alive for a week and a day but with thoughts of another man and I want to slap you and shout that you cannot belong to him when it was me you loved for the first time. Words pour out of me now, watching you dance the night away as I am smoking in a fog of Kings and now you ask me if I am OK and I claim that I am and I wish you well and now I am walking out the door wishing I could have loved you a little bit more.
His face had changed.
Years gave it a new glow,
Something more mature,
More hardened.
His voice had changed.
Cigarettes had given it a new flavour,
A smokiness that could be
Almost touched.
His physique had changed.
Evidently, the young boy of 16
Had become a young man
At 21.
His ideas had changed.
His dreams and desires differed,
Even though not much
From 16.
His mind had changed.
What seemed so far away,
Death and loss had touched him,
Scared him.
Yet the young boy with stars in his eyes,
When we held hands for the first time,
He was a sort of rare beauty living in
Shades of grey that rarely tested that age.
He still loves in colour but moves on
Like a thunderstorm without warning.
And finally, I told him,
You inspire poetry.
Breathing down her neck.
Then biting her ear.
The cat rested, eyes shut as her kitten played with her.
Out of the blue,
When I told you,
You smiled.
I said I miss you,
Like a kitten's mew.
You smiled.
I said I love you,
Like something new.
You smiled.
You said you know,
You said go slow.
I didn't smile,
But you didn't know.
Happy birthday my dearest...
Thus we come to the 6th year where we have been inseparably close.
Friend, no.
Lover, no.
Soulmate maybe?
Heavens only know.
But such has been our friendship that if
I cry, you have a bucket,
And I'll probably hit you for teasing me
With the same bucket.
You laugh, I'll have toothpaste,
And you'll probably throw it at my head
For daring to speak on golden teeth.
We fight, we both run away,
And we come back, patch up,
And then run off in the same direction-
Probably to the same beach where it all started.
We have so many memories of it.
Good ones, bad ones,
Getting-washed-away ones,
Covered-in-sand ones;
Two wild kids looking for fun.
I shall say this right now -
You are not my brother.
We may have grown up together,
From awkward teenage where
You started with a sweet line
And I put pepper on it,
To mature young adults
Where we keep breaking hearts
And get our hearts broken.
Maybe it is better to say,
Young adults getting their first taste
Of responsibilities and time crunches
Yet throwing it all off for one,
Just one hour in the sand.
Or on a car seat.
Or on a hard rickety chair
At some sharjah shop.
A valued one hour.
Make it three if we're
Skipping classes to chill.
So many memories and gifts.
Our tastes are oh-so-different.
I do not do girly,
Yet you persisted in making me
And finally when I managed
To develop a sense of feminity,
You mourn the bratty tomboy.
And make renewed efforts in
Finding her. For fun.
You know me better than
You know yourself.
You do not do
Dressed-up-peacock,
Yet I persisted in making you
And when you finally managed
To develop a sense of masculinity,
I mourn the muddy little boy.
And make renewed efforts in
Finding him. For fun.
I know very few or none
As well as I know you.
The beautiful gifts.
A song dedicated.
A handmade card.
A diary of us.
Most of all, time.
From you to me.
It cannot even be compared with
A small poem,
A small letter,
A football tshirt I hoped you'd love.
But most of all, time.
From me to you.
Selfishly guarded and loaned,
Yet if you needed, you need,
I believe you know,
One phone call is more than
Enough.
Tell me who hurt you,
I shall bury them alive in words and writing.
I'm scared to tell you though, my dear,
You might just bury them alive.
Love you.
To a best friend, my familiar stranger,
(Because you keep growing up!)
A note to say, I love you.
You told me in December,
The last month of the year, that,
Disillusioned, you have found out,
There are things only money can buy.
That maybe love and dedication
Just isn't enough. Yet, I cannot
Completely agree. Money is just a means
To an end. There is no eternity.
Yet, I know what you meant and where
And how. I don't know how to
Convince you now.
I don't know how to convince you,
That people respect and value you
But they cannot believe in your goodness,
Maybe they have been told otherwise in life;
That people don't mean to use you
But they do not know how to express,
Or they feel they lack time for appreciation;
That whatever you do honestly, sincerely,
It will matter for a long time,
Even after you leave, the ones who matter,
They're going to say, you were here.
A new name, a new face,
A new man, woman.
It's always the same.
Two weeks of stalking
And then on to the next,
When are you going to learn
To give it a rest?
This charade of a broken heart,
The pointless exaltation
Of a pitiful infatuation,
Have you learnt maybe
Of who you are?
This is a game where the rules
Are you and you,
The rules are you yet
You always seem to lose.
Wake up sweetheart, life
Is passing by.
The clock is ticking here
And you're caught in fear
Of loneliness, misery,
And the monotony
Of mere existence.
Love is the name you give it,
But you know it's long gone.
You know that love isn't now.
Love was, has been and had been,
In little notes,
Shattered glass,
Ripped up jeans,
Red eyes.
Love isn't now, even though
That's what you call it.
This new name, new face,
New man, woman.
It's always the same.
Indiscreet little notes.
Flowers strewn across the hall.
The fridge full of beer.
Yet, you're not here.
Drip drip drop.
Raindrops
Running down roofs,
Walls, hands, feet,
Leaves, trees,
Flowers in bright bloom.
A green too deep to break,
Sky dark grey
Streaked with white
Lightning.
White boats in little streams
Desperately making their way
To some unknown shores.
Smell of rain, fire and gasoline
It is all so well known.
It could be home.
It was like the first time all over again. She was quiet, alone with her music, not even realising that she was humming as she walked by. He knew exactly where she would go, how she made her rounds. He followed her.
Halfway through, she stopped. She turned. She smiled.
The sky could have fallen down but he wouldn't have cared in the least. Just like the first time.
"Walk with me?", an invitation that he couldn't resist. His hand itched to catch hers and hold it in his. Her soft, delicate hand. Hands which used to know him so well.
"I need to talk to you", the words were out of his mouth before he had even thought it through. What was he going to say?
" What about?", she removed her earphones and glanced at him. The walking hadn't stopped. They had reached where it all began. Where she had been crying alone, trying to rid herself of her demons and he had come like a king to the aid of a queen. He stopped. "Shall we sit?"
She eyed him warily. He expected a no. He knew it was going to be a no; even though she had never said no to anything from him except that last time. She had looked so beautiful, so lost. So hurt. Yet she had smiled. She always smiled. Even now, she was having that smile as she sat. "So talk. I'm listening."
She never truly listened to him the last few months. She was too caught up in her own world. She was trying to solve her own problems and had just let him fall to the side. She had her life and she was busy with it. She would find others. Smarter, stronger, better. But he had stood through it all next to her, would they? They might. He cut off that line of thought.
Really just looking at her confused him and at the same time, cleared his head.
"I want us back", he swallowed and bit his lip. She tilted her head to a side and watched him. "I think it would be better... I miss you." This was the hardest thing he had ever said.
"Why?"
Yes, a question he expected. She was always so full of questions. Even when he had first held her hand. She had asked him why he was holding her hand. That time, he had enjoyed it. The relentless series of questions.
"Because I think it would be better for us both. You are alone now... A lot. You're sad. I've noticed."
She smiled fully, reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I missed you. I have been alone and I have been sad. But it was worse for me in a relationship where I was isolated. And please... Stop telling me about what you see of me. Tell me about you. Tell me why you want me to risk my heart again. I loved you too much then and I still love you now."
"Stop. Listen."
"To what?"
"I do love you. I love you very much."
"How do I believe this when it comes from the boy who told me that he will not fall in love? This boy. Not the man I fell in love with."
"I...", he ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the ground. Tears were filling his eyes. So many feelings. For her, everything could be caught in words. A talent he lacked and suffered for. So many expressions that couldn't be conveyed with mere words.
"You?"
"I'm sorry. I can't guarantee a future. But let's try again."
"This is the third time love."
He looked up. She was crouched just in front of him. She was showing him her hand...her finger...a glint of gold? A ring.
Not the ring he gave her.
Not even remotely close.
"Give me a reason and something to hold on to. Then I might be able to consider breaking this commitment off. Because I love you. But I will not risk my heart again for empty words and broken promises. Not again."
What could he say now? She was gone. The ground was blurring.
"I haven't gone. I'm willing to risk it all love. But only for one who would do the same for me."
He caught her hand. They were outside her apartment. He didn't know what other way to express it. He cupped her small face in his hand. He kissed her.
Anguish. Repentance. Self-loathing. Darkness. Hatred. Loss. Betrayal. It flowed through him into her as though it was a dark vein flailing about wildly trying to connect to her heart.
For one second, there was a response from her. Forgiveness and pity. She pushed him off, wiped her face. She opened the door leaving him stricken behind her. She locked the door.
She smiled. She pulled the key over her wrist as she grabbed on to one mental bar out of five of the door. Small but deep enough. The cut bled.
He caught her bleeding wrist. He grabbed her keys. His shock and anger were written all over his face.
"Why?!", he demanded with thinly veiled anger.
"Because looking at you is too painful. I should forget. Cutting helps."
"No."
He hadn't forgotten her unstable sensitivity under the rock hard exterior.
"I should."
"No... Stay."
"I'm going to sleep."
"Let me come with you. I'll give you first aid."
"No."
He opened the door with the keys in his hand, caught her under her arm and led her to her bed.
She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
When she woke up, the bed was slept in and there was a note: Gone to get breakfast.
She sighed. Once bitten, twice shy, so what was the third time? A fool again? She thought back to the last time, a small poem of Faudet in her head playing a recap -
I could taste
The sting of whisky
On your lips,
A final kiss,
Before we said
Our last goodbye,
Without a word
Being said.
The sting of whisky had also been his proposal.
The feeling of missing you
Is so great my friend.
Hours of nonsense,
Hours of sense,
Hours of heartfelt discussions,
Hours of papers written.
The feeling of missing you
Is so great my friend.
Hours of peaceful silence in the bed,
Hours of walks around lawn beds,
Hours of playfulness and new games,
Hours of sitting, talking about big names.
The feeling of missing you
Is so great my friend.
Hours of wondering where,
Just where I went wrong,
Hours of wondering who,
Just who it was for.
The feeling of missing you
Is so great my friend.
Hours of sitting next to your wheelchair,
Hours of talking about anything,
Of anything but that which matter
Waiting for the hour of theatrical exits.
The feeling of missing you
Is so great my friend.
Because you're there but it's
No longer you,
And I don't know if I'm right
In missing you.
This broken heap of bones,
Pieces, piled on high stones,
They call this a body.
Look for the organs, the eyes,
The ears, the nose, the ties,
There are no ties. This is not a body.
This is a sarcophagus for a mummy,
The coffin of a bony zombie,
This is not a body.
When it was touched, held,
Worshipped, revered,
It was a body.
When it used to feel, was more than bones,
Had organs that worked,
It was a body.
When it was loved, caressed,
Made to feel infinite,
It was a body.
Now it is just a pile of bones.
Stacked on rocks and little stones.
The stories etched on the greyness
Now fading, erodes
With time. This is not a body.
It is a mutilated piece of tragedy
That knew only the darkness cutting
Its last rivers of agony to that time bomb.
This was a body. It used to be called love.
#mc/3
Two deaths. One more and she'd be branded a serial killer...or would she? Everything looked like accidents. It happened in the space of a month.
Lying in the arms of her gallery manager, her paintings out, she couldn't find sleep. She kept seeing reruns of her heightened emotions and awareness of those moments. Accidents shouldn't be so easy to stage. It shouldn't be. Her actions were so perfect as well. The wife was called a jealous lunatic even though she wasn't pressed with charges. She had disappeared like smoke.
Speaking of smoke, she wanted one. She went out into the balcony and lit one. Another near full moon. Few clouds, plenty of stars. Arms suddenly went around her and she reacted in surprise. She pushed.
Tiny balcony. Tinier railings. He didn't fall off but he stumbled and had just caught on the railing and supported himself.
"What's wrong sweetheart? Did you have bad dreams?", his concern irritated her. She sidled up close and rested her hands on his chest. "Yes, very bad."
In the split second he let go of the railings to embrace her, to comfort her, she pushed him and leaped back.
He fell off. Six stories. She stood with a blank face at the balcony, still smoking her cigarette.Last thought we know from her, "How to cover up this one now?"
- the end.
#mc/2
"Sir, your drink?"
"Yes, thank you."
The way this man eyed her up and down sitting next to his own wife was pathetic. But there were many on that list now. She was helping the gallery manager, a sweet guy. She turned away to go and felt a pinch on her back. She jumped in surprise (and pain) and dropped her tray. As she bent down to retrieve it, a piece of paper floated down in front her face.
312, Gold Lane - come for a swim. Party 7pm 12/12/12
She smiled. How quaint. From an artist to temporary help in an art gallery to this. Whatever this was.
Ten o'clock had a nice moon shining in through the kitchen window. The patron was drunk. He had liked her art and already wrote out a check or two to her name...with what hopes, she knew but wisely chose to ignore. She needed the money.
"You're pretty for a nerd... I can't believe that you don't swim. That is no excuse for dressing like this"
Cotton slacks and a tshirt to a pool because she claimed she didn't swim. Well she came to run, not swim. He was holding her hand and pulling it. Her eyes roved the kitchen and gently maneuvered him to the chopping board.
He was still talking, slurring quite a bit now. It didn't make much sense to her...other than his intentions with her, none of which seemed promising. She could hear footsteps approaching the kitchen. She told him quietly, "Lean here, I'll fix you a coffee."
He grabbed her hand with his sweaty ones and empathetically shook his head. She pulled her hand out with sudden force, tripped him with her foot and moved almost instantly to the shelf.
The door opening and her opening the shelf and the patron's anguished cry was altogether.
"Oh my god!", both women screamed. The wife. The gallery assistant.
He wasn't dead yet, he was moaning. His wife ran to him, tried to lift him.
"Call the ambulance! Call 911!", she shouted. No reply. She turned her head to a room empty of anyone else.
Her husband was dying in her arms. The pale girl with dark hair, had it been her imagination? She hadn't seen her anywhere else. She had assumed it would be her husband's mistress or someone. She tried to frantically call for help.
The ambulance arrived a few minutes later to collect the dead body.
- continued.
#mc/1
There wasn't any trace left. She had made sure of it. Getting him drunk was a piece of cake. Letting him trip on the knife stand was... Well, let's not go there. None of her clothes were in the place. A note she had written yesterday was safely stuck up on the mirror. Her fingerprints were around of course. As the girlfriend, she was supposed to have it around. But this was just an accident.
Just an accident.
Driving away was the easiest thing to do. She had just killed a man, her own boyfriend. The one her parents thought she was going to marry.
It was not her fault, of course. He led her into it. Who was he to stop her from visiting Florence to do her art research? Saying that she will sleep around... He had slapped her across the face. That bastard.
"Why the hell would you go to Florence? Where is that anyway!?"
"To do my art research, I already told you. The architecture..."
"To hell with the architecture! It's in Italy, ain't it? You planning to sleep around?"
"What! Of course not! Mind your words, I don't like this!"
"You know what? Neither do I. You're living under my roof and what I say goes. And you are not going."
"That's not for you to decide!"
*slap*
"Said something sweetheart?"
"I said I'm going."
*slap*
"You're not. Shut up."
*silence*
Leading him into his own murder had been...interesting. All these months of keeping quiet as he kept trying to tie her down, control her, possess her...
No other girl would be bothered again. Standing in the airport line, she didn't even feel remorse. Was she supposed to? The hunting had felt very...satisfying for some reason. But maybe not again. It's not like there are so many bastards to kill, is it?
Flight cancelled. Maybe the gods were telling her to stay and that her calling was somewhere else. She just wanted to try once more to get the curiosity out. Just once more.
- continued.
Those first few days when she saw him, she was not interested. She didn't want to be. He was every living idea of a bad boy wannabe. Yet somehow, his kindness, his gentleness... These intrigued her. Under a hard surface, those soft spots were there. She fell in love, fell in love, hard.
The ways things were at the start were fine. It was, in fact, more than fine. It was magic, it was forever in a few moments. It was eternity, it was joy. It was a colourful bubble. It burst.
Things changed. He didn't want to spend time with her anymore. The way he was, she misunderstood as him pushing her away. He told her that they need to be alone, discover themselves. She replied that she already knew who she is, in the sense of she knows what she wants and doesn't want.
She also understood that he was jealous. She wanted him to do something about it if he, in fact, felt like that. Because he kept telling her that he doesn't care. But she was more or less sure that he does. She just wanted it to be expressed in constructive action rather than destructive silence. That did not come to be.
She finally pushed him off. She started to feel like a tool. Something which gifts him what he doesn't want and something capable of dispensing money and food. An akshayapathram. This was not the case, yet she misunderstood it that way. Or was it really the case? One would never know.
These misunderstandings were usually followed by reconciliations. Sudden, swift, needy, clingy. It left her wondering whether they were, indeed, just scared to be alone.
Was it loneliness engulfing them or their first dip in solitude? Was it that they no longer needed nor wanted the other person? Was it that love had died?
Could it be that may be it's our first mistake? And maybe that's alright? It's crazy how we lost ourselves tonight... There's a reason why they say that we should give it time, but time is not enough; and that's the reason why when you're young you fall in love...
Why do I write about you?
Because I want you to exist as I see you :
Beautiful, broken, sharp edged, honest, clear -
That is my selfishness.
Why do I write about you?
Because I want you to live in my world :
Quiet, grey, sharp, bright, confused -
This is my curiosity.
Why do I write about you?
To kill you so that you will cease haunting my dreams -
Because I'm sleepless,
Lonely,
Forbidden,
Locked,
A book with blank pages,
A grey blackboard,
A broken pen spilling ink.
Because,
I'm bleeding at the sight of you
And killing you in pages
Seems to be
The only way I can hide.
If it's one look that attracted you,
One unguarded smile that made you talk,
One small word could mean disaster,
It might just make you fall.
This same look will later despise you,
The same smile will be smug,
That same word might be disaster,
Child, guard your heart - falls hurt.
I'm breaking line by line
Every word is like tick tock, time
Is my enemy and I cannot
Hide my deep rooted fears
Of this addiction I have.
This addiction I have,
It makes me drunk,
It gives me a nicotine high,
Sometimes even red high, poppy -
Transferred by intimacy and close proximity.
Close proximity, I killed you so many
Times in letters with words, with
Alphabets thrown at your head
All which you claim
Confuse you, and then me.
Then me, I'm breaking
Line by line where every word
Says tick tock, time is
Running out, we've reached goodbye,
But I'm still addicted.
It seems easier now.
Though these flowers
seem duller,
Though these trees
seem darker,
Though these clothes
seem shabbier.
But it is easier now.
Without waiting
for a call,
Without waiting
for a word,
Without waiting
for a smile.
It is easier now.
After walking away,
Leaving the past in the past.
It's easier now.
That you've really told me to go,
And my heart is already on the floor.
I realise this,
That I should have
left a long time ago.
Moi : flâneuse, lectrice, étudiante,
Enfant, fille, une femme vivante -
Ce sont les définitions données.
Tout le monde me défini,
On est mis dans les limites,
Sans droit à être,
Tout simplement être.
Moi : bizarre, timide, joueuse,
Sérieuse, méchante mais responsable -
Qui nous donne ces noms à porter
Comme toute la vie, on ne peut pas changer!
Chaque moment se passe, on âge,
Les minutes... Toc-toc... On change.
Moi : personne, tous, dieu,
Temple, église, mosquée.
C'est pas seulement moi,
C'est aussi toi.
Personne ne doit être définie
Au moins, par moi.
Je voudrais que tu aimes celle qui t'aime;
Je voudrais que tu te confies à celle qui te comprend;
Je voudrais que tu trouves celle qui te cherche;
Je voudrais que tu reviennes à celle qui t'attend;
Je voudrais, enfin, que celle soit moi,
Que tu aies besoin de moi,
Que tu te confies à moi,
Que tu m'aimes encore -
Mais j'ai déjà déchiré ton coeur.
I saw you that night,
Black eyes, twinkling,
Like the stars in the sky.
I wanted to ask your name,
But I was too shy.
I saw you again, on the way
To the classroom, in the hall.
That was a morning, a bit indistinct,
I don't quite recall.
I thought of asking your name.
Few glances here and there,
We kept crossing paths yet
Like two strangers who couldn't care
Of what thoughts, unbidden, rise
In a heart caged by life.
I didn't know what to do.
I couldn't care less, but somehow I do,
Because each time I cross you,
I wish to ask your name.
Yet I feel I shouldn't do.
Should one bother over a stranger?
A stranger, intriguing and familiar?
This is a question to you too,
I'm sure even you've had the chance.
That stranger given a second glance.
We're idiots holding on to broken pieces
Of what was once real and heartfelt.
Love changes.
We're the idiots not wanting broken bones
To set, not realising it's broken.
Love changes.
We're the idiots fighting for someone dead
Who has turned over in the grave with another.
Love changes.
My love, if I'm an idiot for holding on to you,
Expecting core feelings to be the same,
Expecting that I'd hear those words again,
My love, if I'm an idiot for begging you and
Falling for you even when I know it is a fall,
You're the bigger idiot letting us down.
But you know what, my love?
We still have feelings for the feelings we used to have.
But love changes.
I knew he was leaving. This was something we had discussed and settled in the beginning itself when our relationship started. When we got drunk the last night, we threw caution to the winds. We loved, we were one. That night. That's the night we made you.
Then, the next day, he left. It was as though we were strangers. Your father and I. Father. I never thought I would see him in that role. Yet I never expected in 23years to turn into a mother either. Me, who was so vehemently opposed to marriage and who was terrified at the business of raising a child. However, when I finally found out at the end of the month that I have...company, your company, I was happy. I was enthusiastic and in tears with joy. I wanted you. A single, unwed mother I could be but I wanted you.
Baby, I didn't tell your father till I saw him just three days ago. This was the middle of my seventh month, beginning of the last trimester with you. He guessed it by himself to be honest. He was amazed, scared, angry and upset. With me baby, not you. Because I hadn't told him about you, because I had hidden you. I never realized how angry he could be.
He wanted me to marry him then and there. He said that it was his duty and he couldn't let me have you all on my own. I fought baby. I'm sorry but I did. I told him that it was he who had left out of his own choice and that when I came to this discovery a month later, I didn't know how to reach him. He caught me out on our lie, telling about friends...old friends whom I hadn't seen since six months but hadn't lost touch with.
We fought bitterly for one day and that night found your father sharing my bed again, baby, with you and me in it. I still didn't agree to the register marriage. Two days baby, you were there with us in the bed.
I lost you today morning. May 1, Saturday, 7.17am. We lost you. You brought us back together and then you too left, baby. I think this trait you share from us both - leaving. We loved you so much. We wanted you. I'm still devastated.
Your father asked me to go out with him later after seeing my gynecologist. That's the doctor I see to take care of you baby. But you're not there anymore.
Baby, I still love you. I'm sad that I couldn't nurture you enough inside me. I don't know if you will have a brother or sister in the future baby. But you were, are, our first. You'll always be special.
And if the Earth lets you hear my tears now, please come back to us again. We won't fail you, we'll try not to. But give us another chance.
Also, baby, thank you. Thank you for bringing your father back to me, even if it is for an unknown period of time. Heavens only know how much I loved him and still do. Heavens and you. I love you too baby.
Be safe, wherever you are.
*Author's note: This is purely fictional.
They say happiness is a choice.
And it is. When I choose you,
For all those smiles, the comfort,
The quiet moments, the walks,
The unexpected flowers,
₹1 toffees which mattered more
Than a galaxy or a milky way.
Because it told me you thought.
Of me.
They say happiness is a choice.
Or is it? When I choose you,
Over and over again,
Wordless fights, overwhelming silence,
Pointed ignorance and avoidance,
Classic hiding among others,
No expression, no communication,
But you still come back finally.
To me.
They say happiness is a choice.
Is it? When we try to figure things out,
When words unsaid loom over us,
When the guarded pauses are loaded
With tears, as of yet, by both, unshed,
When the end is inevitable but
Always, always, postponed,
Like a difficult final assignment
Long overdue.
They say happiness is a choice.
And it is - When we are fighting for
Each other instead of grabbing the
Other's throat, pushing to walls,
Dragging down by hair,
Clawing, screaming, animalistic mess;
When we fight to keep each other,
Not to lose one other by the
Month's end.
They say happiness is a choice.
Or is it? When my long road of dreams
And the sparks of happiness rest
Awaiting the reply of a single man,
Giving him the power of Lord to decide
Whether I die with him or live without,
Giving him the power of fate to decree
Whether I am privileged to share his life,
And him, mine.
They say happiness is a choice.
It is. I'm choosing now on my own,
Gods be damned.
Maybe we were too good for each other.
Maybe we burnt too high.
The flames had to die someday,
There is no warm house for us,
Only cold separate ways. No us now,
Just you, me.
You do not see the tears
That trickle down every night,
After you leave the bed cold;
The only warmth being her work,
She turns to it more.
Then it starts to kill,
A kind of addiction,
A sort of escape,
Where mechanical routine
Is soul numbing - she doesn't feel -
At least, not anymore.
Layers after layers of paper
Smother her in her dreams;
The darkness which comes with it,
The high she gets off it,
All seems worth to hide the pain.
Piles after piles of books,
Miles and miles of faces,
Confused smiles and angry glares,
To work is to be free of the mob,
To be free of the anxiety and pain -
Yet it kills her, each second, a little more.
You do not see her broken spirit
Reflected in her now lifeless eyes,
The bed you left cold long ago,
But now you're back
Just to say goodbye.
The cold machine she has turned into,
The iron fist which she exerts in her field,
The drinks and weed she avoids,
Only to drown herself in more sheets,
Realise that you're the reason she's there -
A workaholic in her cold and lonely despair.
Rest here for a minute.
Everything else can wait -
Dirty dishes in the sink,
Laundry pile in the bag,
Work load on the table,
Kids' homework to be checked.
Rest here for a minute.
You won't lose a thing -
The children's smiles,
Your husband's massages,
Your mother's hugs,
Your father's words.
Rest here for a minute.
The world will still be there -
The roads will still be crowded,
The clients will still come,
Your life will still move on,
Your love will still await.
Rest here for a minute.
What is there that you can't stop?
Tomorrow isn't a guarantee,
Neither is the next minute,
But you won't regret stopping,
Taking a moment to breathe, look around.
Rest here for a minute.
Blooming, withering, falling;
Growing, ageing, dying;
Watching, waiting, wondering;
Hoping, dreaming, loving;
Lying, cheating, failing;
Flowers fallen, trees dead,
Hopes awakened, love given,
Hearts broken, Fate unyielding.
Life goes on anyway.
Am I still in your dreams?
Or have you shipped me away
To the place that holds Band-Aids
That were cast aside after
The wounds had healed?
Have you sent me to the land
Of things all but forgotten?
Or am I where old lyrics rest?
The kind which resurface
After you've slept and
Which come till the tip
Of your tongue where it
Sits for days just to remind you
Of me, my name...
I dreamt of you again last night.
Brown eyes flashed,
Specs put aside,
Arms holding love strong.
I dreamt of you again last night.
You swept me off my feet,
Showed me visions in my sleep,
Taught me I could go on and dream,
Told me it's tied at the seams.
You spun me around in circles,
Called me yours and beautiful,
Told me now, always, forever,
And vanished when I surrendered.
You built castles in the air
Which I thought had foundations,
Could never be damnations,
Yet turned into lamentations.
You found me in my weakest,
Built me up like the greatest,
Left without word at the end,
The act was over - the end.
You are the first thing on my mind as I wake up this morning.
Today, lying on the bed, I wish your legs were intertwined with mine, your knees bent towards me, feeling the warmth of your skin on mine.
I lay on the side of the bed with my eyes closed; I can feel your arms around me, holding me close as your body settles against mine with your face in my hair and whispering "Good morning".
Barely awake, I feel you squeeze me, making me feel safe and protected in your arms.
I miss you today.
Standing alone in the room I remember breakfast. I think back to the Saturdays we would walk together with or without other friends to the little roadside stand for food.
When it's just us, sometimes we would walk in silence and other times I would talk and talk about nothing in particular, but you would smile… because we were together and we were happy just being close to each other.
I miss you today.
Outside the air is perfect, the sky above is blue with scattered clouds and there is a slight breeze against my face as I walk. It makes me miss your hands; their smoothness, the security they represented, and the way they hold mine and lead them to your lips as you drop a kiss.
I loved the way you would grab onto me as if you were afraid of losing me.
I miss you today.
I walk past places we used to go together and begin thinking of things we could do if you were here. Instead of walking to a café, I’d still be in bed. We’d be sleeping in without a care in the world. Our bodies would be close. Your shoulder would be perfect for my head to lay on as I’d lay my hand on your bare chest, feeling your heart beat.
I’d move my hand through your rich black hair until you murmur my name with satisfaction. I would feel you adjust your body as you’d indicate where you’d like to be massaged next.
We would settle into each other without a worry or a care, because we’d know, no matter what, that we would always be together.
I miss you today.
But today you have a new life. You have a new Saturday routine, it's no longer with me. Maybe it's better. Maybe it's not.
Maybe you miss me at times. Maybe you want to wake up with me at times. Instead we have gone our separate ways.
I wonder sometimes whether your routine will include someone else; mine as well. I wonder whether it would be each other again.
But as for now, we have to grow up without each other, and as far as I know, we will not be.
As days pass by, I suppose I shall think of less and less. But for today,
Today, I miss you.
#When my anxiety decides to have a stay over in my head -
I want to ask you to stay. Because I need you. I'm starting to panic. My anxiety levels are shooting up. But you need to go. So go. I won't stop you. I can't stop you, you see. I can't make you stay. Because you will ask what can you do? And if all you can do is hold me when I cry and that too for no good reason, why you should you? When you have more concrete needs to attend to.
My friend, I love you and I trust you. I do.
But I don't.
My monsters are out in the light so darkness is more comfortable. I know I'm thinking up weird things because something I ate is irritating my stomach. Yes. I'm very well aware of it. But as much as I'm trying to control and dam the overwhelming flow of negative thoughts, it is leaking. My dam has leaks.
So soon, I'll drown in my own unnecessary tears telling me of my uselessness and how I'm not trying hard enough. Because I'm not. I should be more independent, more strong, more bold. I try. I do. Believe me.
But there's this fear holding me back. That I cannot trust my own body. I cannot trust myself.
So tell me then, how do I trust YOU when I cannot trust myself? How do I love YOU when I am unable to appreciate and love myself? When every waking moment makes me feel like a fool, and then you look so perfect to me. Even with all your imperfections.
Now I wonder how you could like me. Is it a lie? Are you for real? How can a whole person love little glass shards lying on the ground? Because they know when they touch it, they will get cut, they will bleed.
I'm those glass shards. You are that perfect person. Don't pick me up, I'm not worth it.
It's the anxiety talking - says one part of my brain. The other actually believes the f**king s**t that it is spouting out.
I need you now, I need you to hold me and hug me tight so I'll be polished bit of glass instead of a million shards. But I can't ask you. I could. But I won't ask. Is that not being needy and clingy? It makes you uncomfortable, I have seen that in your faces.
So, I love you but I don't. I need you but I won't. Do you understand anything?
I guess you do but you don't.
Thanks anyway.
31 July 2015
9:37pm
#a rapist's ranting. (imagined)
"The feelings grow stronger, down below,
I become rock hard, at the sight of you I glow,
There's an ache in my arm, to reach out to you tonight,
Come and let me make you
My wife, my mistress,
It's just one night."
"Each time you pass by, I stare and stare,
Devour you in that little skirt,
Maybe in a salwar that you wear,
My thoughts become more frantic,
I need my release soon,
Dreaming of you doesn't help,
I need to have you soon."
"Why do you ignore me?
You act as if I don't exist,
Your friendly neighborhood uncle,
You're dressing up and tearing me to bits.
You walk around with guys,
They touch you and you laugh.
If they have so much freedom, then I do too, perhaps?"
"Girl, you are straining me,
I can't keep my hands to myself no more,
You're all alone in the house across,
Maybe I'll come and visit in this tone.
I can see you are busy, moving around like a dance,
Come and open the door for me,
Like the whore you act like..."
"So surprised to see me honey?
Never knew how you were tempting me each day?
Now let me put my thoughts to rest sweetheart,
My dreams will become actions you never forget!
Your screaming is just more fun,
Your squirming is making me come,
Stay still you bitch, or I might
Just beat you into it."
"What are these tears for now?
Aren't you enjoying this?
You're panting like a dog in the heat,
Liar, you needed me!
Let me show you how men can be,
Let me show you your place as it should be,
Listen here you little whore,
You'll keep quiet and let me take you some more!"
"Never speak of this again girl,
This man is just your friendly neighbor,
So maybe you fell and hit your head,
Explain the bruises however it helps;
Don't speak a word, or I'll find you right here,
You'll be waiting for me...
And I'll leave you *dead* clear."
The problem is,
I don't want to say goodbye,
I want to say goodnight,
I don't want to hug you now
Just when I know you'll go,
I want to hug you
When I know you'll stay close.
The problem is,
I don't want to say good morning,
I want to say hello
And meet you again for real,
Each day like a constant refresher,
A favourite song on replay,
Where we'll fall in love with each other
Over and over again.
The problem is,
I don't want to see you go,
Not if you're going forever,
Not if this is to be a farewell,
Not if this is to be the last dance,
The last hug, the last kiss.
I want to be your forever last,
The woman standing beside you.
But the truth is,
You've already packed your bags,
You're standing at the door,
You're watching me say all this
And wondering how you stayed so long,
You're going away to never come back,
You're asking me to not be empty,
To not be a drama queen and make
The last day, the LAST day, a misery.
The truth is,
I knew you'd leave.
I gave you every bit of a broken heart
Which was all I had left after years
Of caring too much, realising too late,
Of choosing to be the fool who
Thinks she is loved.
And you put it back together,
Sealed it together with gold,
Just to throw it down again
And walk away like it's all good.
Unfortunately reality begs me,
To analyze, to rationalize my pain,
To understand your situation as well,
To forgive that I was never your priority
Even when I gave you first place,
To comprehend that my feelings
Are my own responsibility,
Reality forces me,
To accept that I will not be accepted,
To accept that this is no one's fault.
But where will you be?
When you need that love,
When you need that acceptance,
When you need a wake-up call,
When you need that one person
To be your home,
Where will you be?
Where will you go?
I hope it will be, still,
To my back door.
To my window sill.
To my room.
To my love.
To me.
Because my friend demanded a happy ending and this is how happy I could get:
#The Flamed.
You begin one which is all love and flames,
A cheery story to warm hearts as tales,
This tale about the girl who walked through flames,
She came out alive, lived to tell the tale.
So sad for her, one day she was waylaid,
A group of men hornier than dogs in heat,
Tore her up, tore her up like meat,
Bleeding, bruised and scarred, they left her to die
But she was one who had walked the flames,
She couldn't just lie down, give up the game.
So began the true story of the flames,
It was one of a girl who'd been thrown out in shame,
She had sold her body, all for love,
Came back with a child, they say, cursed from above.
They told her she should walk through fire,
Because the child was to blame,
For how could she of the skin fair,
Come back with a child, black as hell?
She cried and told her story
But no one would dare to hear,
For how dare they hear with the child from hell
Hanging on to his mother dear?
The child was dark, black as night,
With hair as red as blood,
His fingernails were yellow and teeth were edged
Like nail points to bite and kill.
The fear of him grew stronger and stronger,
The child avoided the sun,
Well-wishers in disguise, they thought up a plan,
Let her walk the flames of truth and tell
Her story to all, man and woman alike,
Children even if they wish,
But only if she survives may she stay,
The child shall go with her.
Plan set into motion, the girl had no choice,
When path was set on fire,
She hugged her son tight,
Whispered three words and then gathered him close,
She walked through the path, her eyes closed,
Her mouth reciting stories from old,
Of a beautiful man who waylaid her with love,
While she was on fire and walking through earthly hell.
The beautiful man turned out to be a demon,
And maybe her child is demon spawn,
But abandon him, she will not,
And out she walked, unscathed.
But alas, for her, for everyone,
The child had disappeared.
She screamed all night through,
Tore out her hair,
Ripped off her clothes,
All in pure despair,
When she got up on her feet,
She walked away,
Searching for her child and
The man who had led her astray.
That was when the men waylaid her,
Ripped her up and bruised her,
But she was still burning, nursing her wounds,
Her small body threw out flames and they died.
Where is the love and cheer you ask?
Well dear lady, that was only a false mask.
Courage arises out of fear and hatred,
We admire what we ourselves dare not test.
So this is the story of the girl,
She walked the flames and survived,
She found her child, she made a life,
All on her own, she was a soul that lived right.
- People lie, cheat, deceive, molest...but in the end, how you hold up is what matters, isn't it? Not what they did or will do. But how you face up to the ones who wish to see your will broken and eyes defeated. How you say that one word, NO.
Don't give her hope
If it's to take it away,
Don't put the pretty carpet under her
If it's only to pull away,
Never ever tell her you love her
If it's only a lie,
And don't promise to take her away
If you were planning on saying goodbye.
You gave birth to me.
You raised me.
You give me money.
You try to provide me with everything that money can buy.
Because that's enough for you.
In return, I try to appease you.
I get good grades, I work myself as much as I can.
I get the prizes, the medals, the trophies and the certificates.
I get praise from everyone who knows me.
I do everything asked of me.
Everything which seems to entitle being a good daughter.
But nothing seems to please you.
My faults, my crimes. Let me list them.
I talk to boys, I make friends with them :
They address with a familiarity you cannot abide.
I do work that I will not be applauded for : I do donkey work that is beneath your status.
I make friends with girls who are "loose" :
Whose parents accept boyfriends and going out alone in buses.
I use language and words instead of numbers and science :
I teach myself new things, oh the horror of the unknown.
To top it off, I get ill so much, you think I'm faking the pain:
To get out of exams -
Which I ace,
To get out of classes -
Which I love,
To get out of doing my "work" -
Which is all that I ever do to the point
That I can barely sit and eat at night
Before crashing into bed and oblivion.
To get *attention* -
Which I do get to the point I'm searching for anonymity.
My dear parents.
You damaged me.
Reasons I am unable to explain now.
Reasons I am unable to forgive anymore.
Reasons I find myself hateful.
Reasons I find myself ill in your very presence.
Reasons I see myself in the mirror and...
I hate. I hate. I hate. I hate.
Not even a lizard falling on me upsets me now.
Maybe you'd understand the significance of that one day.
But I hate.
My dear parents.
You're such loving, kind, caring people to the rest of the world.
You're role models with an exemplary family of brilliant minds.
You excel at whatever you touch and grow money out of trees.
You are *so nice*.
Yet your daughter is so damaged that she can barely look at you in the eye.
Your daughter identifies herself with the worst of the worst, the lowest of the low.
Whenever she finds a way to start loving herself again,
She loses it all.
All her castles fall down.
All her bridges burn down.
All her forests go up in flames.
All that is left of her washes away in waves.
So thank you.
For isolating her, for doubting her, for trying to destroy her individuality.
She'll just leave you see.
I left, didn't you see?
And there is no coming back from that.
Goodbye means goodbye, my dear parents.
Goodbye.
I must admit, the one thing which people here do so freely, touch, is something that I cannot bear.
The touch of my parents repulse me. The hug of a loving aunt repulses me. The helping hand of a caring uncle repulses me. The kiss of my sister repulses me. The casual touch of any friend repulses me, especially if I'm not prepared for it.
I cannot bear being touched if I'm not mentally prepared to accept the touch at least 20seconds before hand. I jerk away and offend them or worse, hurt their feelings. I don't even like touching others in the form of a hug or a kiss. It takes a lot out of me to do it, to share myself in such a familiar way.
Yet your touch. Your touch, I seek.
I feel it like a warm bed of grass on a spring day. A fluffy blanket on a winter night.
The ratty piece of fabric I must cling on to so that I may sleep in the middle of a blazing summer.
The cold, soul numbing feel of the thunderstorm welcoming monsoon into the country. I feel your touch like second nature. Even if I don't see it coming, I feel its comfort the moment your hand lies on my shoulder. I don't jerk away. I don't pull back. I don't feel scared or repulsed.
I love your touch.
But only yours. I don't see germs creeping up my skin when another touches me, no. I don't feel a need to wash myself either like an obsession. I just do not...like it.
But you, your touch makes me feel complete. It feels like the other half that I had been so desperately trying to find.
You hold me like I'm the most precious thing in the world. You kiss me like there might not be a tomorrow.
You touch me like I'm you and you're me.
Touch me.
"He's gonna save me, call me baby, with his hands in my hair,
He'll call me crazy, soothe me daily with a smile full of care
He'll be my one and only, daily goodnight that I'll always say,
We'll sleep together only to wake up, kiss good morning each day..."
I love, I feel, I know.
Yet here is the fact my dear,
That you should know.
I love you.
I love you like the dying light
Embracing the darkness.
I love you like the high of cocaine
And losing my senses with joy.
I love you like the flame that licks
Its way up the dry twig, crackling.
I love you like you're the last one I'd meet
And I'd never love another again.
And while I love you, I feel you,
Yet I know my love,
I'll never be one to stay.
The silent shivers down my spine
As your hands entwine with mine,
The gentle whispers of your breath
As I hold mine as though it's death,
The soft caresses that thrill me deep
As I let my hands explore your keep,
Lie down soldier, let me please you,
I'm only a whore, not a body tuned
Tuned like yours to respond to every touch,
Harden again against my fingers' brush,
I'm soft, malleable and I welcome you
To a night of soft abandon, as the submissive of two.
Are you truly a whore?
Have you slept like this before?
Under the moon hidden ashamed
To show herself in your beauty unclaimed
As of yet by time who has been sweet
And who makes you think that you're just meat.
Oh, but I am my dear soldier,
I am the submissive and the sober,
I am the whore you chose tonight.
Yet you seem too precious,
That I cannot just abandon sans conscious,
I believe you will have a name
Share that if I'm not yours to blame.
My name is that of a death Rose,
My name is that of determined Moss,
My name is that of the moon, la Lune,
I even hold some music like a Tune,
Yet in the end, I'm just another face,
One to use, but not feeling disgrace,
Because you have taken my city,
I'm your spoils of the night,
I do not need your pity,
Do not try to put me in your light.
I may be a soldier, but heartless I'm not,
Do not share your bed, if willingly, it is not.
Can you not sense the response you awaken?
The primal sense of wanting to be taken,
The sweat mixed with the musk of a man,
Believe me this is not the fire, it is only the pan.
Let me make you unsay that.
Let me see you try.
My dear,
My soldier,
Tonight you will be mine.
I don't have words.
I don't have the words to explain
This emptiness inside my chest,
Where I feel I lack something essential,
When I can't be around you yet need you,
So much that watching you walk away,
It's like this perverse action where I find relief
That you chose not to stay, not to hold me,
Not to try to understand the wordlessness.
Yet I wish you would have stayed.
I wish you would have stayed and held me,
Comforted me, tried to understand this wordless sadness
Where I'm connected and one with the universe
And its grief engulfs me into a black hole
Where I'm drowning.
I'm drowning my love.
You see that, I know you do,
Yet you still choose to walk away
After a few moments of coaxing me.
I need your patience but I can't ask,
Not that.
I need your kindness but I can't ask,
Not that.
I need to know you love me and that I'm not alone,
But I would never dare ask,
Not that.
In front of you, I'm unable to explain.
I just don't have the words.
I don't have words.
She never asks for much than you.
Yet that is the most difficult for you.
She never asked you to bring her the moon
Or buy her a flower bunch
Or even much that's for her own.
She just asks you to stay a little longer.
Yet you never do.
She doesn't ask you to accompany her
Everywhere and anywhere
Because she wants you to choose her
Over others when she can't take care of herself.
You rarely come.
She spends her time on you.
She does everything else too.
For you, you always have something else
Always something to be done
Someone to be met, made welcome.
She even welcomes you to her bed.
You take her mindlessly, is it a game?
Is she your pawn or is she your queen?
On this chessboard where you've named yourself king.
If people were rain,
I would be a drizzle
And she a hurricane ;
Maybe she'd sweep you off your feet,
Dangle you from high trees,
Get your heart beating fast each time,
While taking you on a ride.
But I'm the drizzle,
The one who softly carresses,
The one who'll seep in
And take the chill to your bones.
I won't destroy you in a rush,
I'll wear you down steadily in droplets
Of love that binds and holds ;
Where she'll be a memory long gone,
You'll still know me my love,
Because I'm the one in your bones.
My love, I am the one you'll know.
It is an eternal peace I find,
When your hand rests on mine,
When your lips find my forehead
And make me forget to despair.
It is a gentle, unfailingly strong love I find
When I look into your eyes,
When I tell you I'll throw away the binds
And you lay your claim and call me, "Mine".
Author's note: this is not worth reading.
Our Lord in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Forgive me for I have sinned.
God, I'm tired of the being the good one, the one with the grades. Good work goes unnoticed and bad ones get the name. The good one that does both gets all the credit and the others who does only good is criticized. That one is expected to go far, do more, push harder, do better. The others have a lesser weight to carry it seems. The only care for themselves. And me, I try. I tried. I'm still trying, God I want to stop. I want to smoke that damn cigarette and drink that wine, I want to get heady with senses I can't describe. God! I'm tired of being the odd one out. I'm tired of watching everyone else have someone they can share happiness with except me. My happiness seems to become misery when no one understands it. God! Just tell them! Tell them to let me be. I'm trying but I can't get there. Maybe, just maybe I'm depressed and maybe a few pills will solve my problem. Maybe. But I don't want those tiny white pills to welcome Lady Sleep to my world. My lonely blind world which always feels a rush only when in a rush and then that high is gone. Then it's blank. We don't know what to do. I'm just sad maybe because I haven't slept properly in a while. Or maybe I'm jealous of all that everyone shares but me. Maybe I feel left out of that alien language that I'm forced to learn. That has nothing to do with me and yet. Yet, my own heart led me there thinking and thinking I'll find solace. But God, forgive me. Just forgive me for I have sinned. And my sin is that I cared when I shouldn't have. And I did and karma is replying God. Just please ask her to stop. Please ask Lady Sleep to carry me to you instead and then I would finally enjoy my company like I used to. Before I found them.
What are you doing, staring up at the sky?
I'm wishing.
Wishing?
I'm wishing upon falling stars my dear, because I don't know if we will lose heart.
I'm wishing upon trains crossing on bridges above my love, because I wonder when we will part.
I'm wishing upon four leaf clovers my sweet, because I don't know if we will cease to meet.
My heart, it's a dark, starless night. What are you seeing?
My dreams in my dark heart, lover. Places that no one will uncover.
Every twist and turn of this road,
It devastates me. In every corner
I hope for something better,
Yet all that is found is travesty.
I thought the words meant
Something, that it had true
Meaning, yet I am proved to
Again and again, that these
Are empty words and could
Never mean a thing to me.
I love him like a wound,
Like a pain in my head
That makes me see stars,
That makes me hope for better days.
I love him like a disease
That I don't want my body to throw away,
Like spots on my face which mark me.
I love him like I love the dark
And yet fear it at the same time,
For it swallows me whole each night.
I love him like a nightmare and a daydream,
Those I can't wake up from and confuse me,
Scare me, scar me, become my tragedy -
Because he is my addiction
Who comes in a bottle with a cigarette in hand,
Who wakes up like time is of no matter,
Who doesn't realize that my each stolen second with him is
Precious.
We have our differences -
You won't speak,
I'll be rude,
Too straightforward,
And you anger too soon.
Many little problems,
Little things left unsaid.
Acting like a mother out of care,
Acting like a teenager in despair,
It's both of us and we leave it unsaid.
Maybe we aren't what we used to be,
Maybe not so much close as once was,
Maybe we went away and in between
Even became strangers for a while.
But we're still here,
Still in each other's life,
A pain-in-the-ass,
Yet hopefully a lovable one -
Come whatever may,
If you need a last resort,
It's there.
I'm here, I got your back,
Just as I know you have mine.
Love you.
Happy birthday :)
Stolen kisses under a moonlit sky, mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly nearby, whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, yet silence was deepest and most dear.
Silent actions mimicking few words, a slap across the face with the sound going unheard, tears flowing freely as whispers are angry, a push, a shove, a crack and disappear.
Another starry sky with a bottle and cigarette shared, huddled together in their own small lair, his arms are protecting, comforting, apologizing, but her cheek is still bruised yet now healing.
You always feel to me like a place I've never been, yet inherently know, like you're my home to where I belong, yet you're the moon I'll always wonder how to reach, and always, always, you're my star, my warmth and my guide, where I've never been but you're my home, and our way is never lost.
In that one instance
where I see you walk away,
my eyes on you yet
my mind far away,
thinking up pictures
with no seams,
points of light
that haunt me in my dreams.
That one instance
where I struggle to say
Stay
and when I can't, that's
when the flood drowns me,
blackness grabs me,
rapes my mind to turn me
numb.
My darling.
I love you yet I no longer know how.
You can never know -
Whether she means high
Though she says low,
If it's a metaphor
Or an old ghost,
Whether she means yes
When she says no,
If it's going to be forever goodbye
Though she had just said hello.
