We lay in bed with our eyes locked in. The air is the same. We keep breathing but my breaths are heavier. It almost seems like they have been carrying a lot of burden on their shoulders. Your breathing however is much lighter. Its more carefree. Just like you perhaps.
It's not so much about the words. It doesn't matter what you say and how you say it. This is beyond just words. This is about your silence. And sometimes my silence but this is mostly about your silence. It slowly creeps up on me and settles into the dark moments of my life. It becomes my companion in those dark drawn out moments and all I can say is that I could not be more thankful.
I have told you so many times before... that you can never know how or what I feel about you. There is something very sacred about the pain love brings. It can only be idolized. And it can not be shared with anyone. So I'm not hiding my pain. I'm simply not sharing it. I know you are confused and it's totally okay to feel that way. Its like Science. There is no such thing as "Cold". There is only absence of "Heat". Do you get it now?
But you can't help asking me as to why sometimes it starts to hurt so much? And even though I want to tell you I just can't gather the words and reveal myself to you entirely. Because you might start to think things that are not your concern to begin with. So that side of me shall stay miles away from your shadow.
The truth of the matter is that you remind me of my childhood. Simple and content. But the problem is that a lot has happened since then. I would tell you but I think I would scar you as well and I would never wanna do that to you. The truth is that I don't think you would ever love me the way I love you. There was only one man. He hurt me and he hurt me a lot. And no it's not about past mistakes. They are not even worth mentioning now. It's about just one man. But let's leave it at that.
So let's just lay here in our beds. You on your side of the world and I on this side. Let our silence speak to each other because our words have miserably failed. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. But let's just do it. Our hearts are like cities. Our minds...continents of some sort. Often expanding. With invisible boundaries. The ones I once drew to keep you out. You don't need a passport to get in. You just need indifference to stay out and never care. But I know that's too much to ask for.
With silence being our new medium, let the tales write themselves from now on.
On the shore of apathy I stood still
Tried hard to suppress the silent screams
Love tried to cross the lines once drawn
In the cave of misery, I locked myself in
Friday, November 30, 2012
Starry Nights
Our limbs extend into long tree branches
As you lay with me in this starry night
Subtle breaths you breathe on my neck
Perfumed body adding to your sheer delight
Dampen hair wrapped around my fingers
As I lay awake around that aura of you
Witnessing those ever lasting galaxies in sky
Caressing thy cheek dipped in that glow
Early days of love, our youths were tangled up
In unsettled blistering rides of high and low
To the Heaven of passion among other things
Leaving grounds of uncertainty so far below
The journey embarked upon in thy company
Life's realism halted me from ever knowing
A knight in shinning armor you ceased to be
Far from that magical world of stars glowing
Set it free this one time, let it fly out the window
That imaginary heart I once drew just in the air
Hoping it would travel the world alone eternally
You then drew one too, we called it a pair
At last I wake up from this unfulfilled dream
Tasting that bitter sweetest life's essence
A life so scorching, it isworth living
Attesting to your surreal presence in my life
As you lay with me in this starry night
Subtle breaths you breathe on my neck
Perfumed body adding to your sheer delight
Dampen hair wrapped around my fingers
As I lay awake around that aura of you
Witnessing those ever lasting galaxies in sky
Caressing thy cheek dipped in that glow
Early days of love, our youths were tangled up
In unsettled blistering rides of high and low
To the Heaven of passion among other things
Leaving grounds of uncertainty so far below
The journey embarked upon in thy company
Life's realism halted me from ever knowing
A knight in shinning armor you ceased to be
Far from that magical world of stars glowing
Set it free this one time, let it fly out the window
That imaginary heart I once drew just in the air
Hoping it would travel the world alone eternally
You then drew one too, we called it a pair
At last I wake up from this unfulfilled dream
Tasting that bitter sweetest life's essence
A life so scorching, it isworth living
Attesting to your surreal presence in my life
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
One More Night
Sometimes I wish you would just... hurry up and get here; within knowing territory, close to speaking distance.
Sometimes, I wish we were books in a library age couldn’t mortalize and time lent distinction to.
Sometimes I wish I’d already known you my whole spent life, spend the remainder waiting on you. Whoever you are.
...Please, one more night?
Sometimes, I wish we were books in a library age couldn’t mortalize and time lent distinction to.
Sometimes I wish I’d already known you my whole spent life, spend the remainder waiting on you. Whoever you are.
...Please, one more night?
Monday, November 26, 2012
Imperfect Control
In perfect control,
my every sense attuned to every fiber of his being
the sigh - as everything ends.
his tired breath,
his whispered joke,
his concentration
...is occupying my focus
he is in perfect control of my imperfect control.
my every sense attuned to every fiber of his being
the sigh - as everything ends.
his tired breath,
his whispered joke,
his concentration
...is occupying my focus
he is in perfect control of my imperfect control.
Stinging Ice
Please
Don't be angry
When I come to your room
and rap on your door
There must be something
I want to say
I'm heard not believed
when your hate hits me hard
oh so hard
Ice
there's ice in your eyes
you're red when you're angry
And black as a storm
whenever you're wrong
Don't be angry
When I come to your room
and rap on your door
There must be something
I want to say
I'm heard not believed
when your hate hits me hard
oh so hard
Ice
there's ice in your eyes
you're red when you're angry
And black as a storm
whenever you're wrong
Sting
You kill with your words
I stumble on mine
And even when you hurt
I'm fishing for apologies
You keep me wondering
with the frown and the sneer
if I ever really knew you
if I've done something unforgivable
You kill with your words
I stumble on mine
And even when you hurt
I'm fishing for apologies
You keep me wondering
with the frown and the sneer
if I ever really knew you
if I've done something unforgivable
Story
It's unfortunate. Life that is. At least certain moments are. And you just can not help it. That is why I call it unfortunate. The moments that are sad play on a loop. Its not fair to the good moments but sad moments take priority. Its the same with sad songs. Its unfortunate. But we already know that.
Like the one that unfolded today. They took turns in hurting each other. Then her life came to a complete stand still. He said something and her life stood still. Like in mourning. It was unfortunate. That's all that can be revealed here.
But its okay. Whatever happened that day made sense. He made her cry but he also lend his shoulder to cry on and in a twisted way that makes it okay. This time around she held his hand even tighter. He was only practicing his rights. That is all.
Just before falling asleep they promised to keep hurting each other. Forever and ever.
Its unfortunate but that is all there is to their story.
Like the one that unfolded today. They took turns in hurting each other. Then her life came to a complete stand still. He said something and her life stood still. Like in mourning. It was unfortunate. That's all that can be revealed here.
But its okay. Whatever happened that day made sense. He made her cry but he also lend his shoulder to cry on and in a twisted way that makes it okay. This time around she held his hand even tighter. He was only practicing his rights. That is all.
Just before falling asleep they promised to keep hurting each other. Forever and ever.
Its unfortunate but that is all there is to their story.
Anger
Your anger,
like embers on my skin.
So that I walk around all day with the searing pain
lingering all over my charred nerves.
And the soreness within,
like jagged icicles above my head
drenching me in fear.
But him. His anger is a source of mirth, a joyful tease.
like embers on my skin.
So that I walk around all day with the searing pain
lingering all over my charred nerves.
And the soreness within,
like jagged icicles above my head
drenching me in fear.
But him. His anger is a source of mirth, a joyful tease.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Wooed
Don’t dive! I pull, you push me back
and now only bubbles at the surface.
You panicked, why did I have to confess
the insane depths of my emotion?
I knew and even though you're not in love,
though I wasn’t anyone else’s
why did I have to try and claim you?
Now everywhere I go there is something
to remind me of you, I can't
divert my mind, It shames me.
I’ve knocked on all other doors, I’ve tried
having the slashes on my heart bandaged.
Cos I’m torn between you
and the image in my head; the fiction I’ve always fancied.
Someone to swoop down from the skies,
and with all their lullabies,
break my insomniatic wake.
But then you came and you stayed.
swaying with me through my darkest days,
pulling me from my stagnancy
And even though you're not in love yet
or even someone else’s
I still cant quite believe it
that you were the rope I had been chasing all my life.
and now only bubbles at the surface.
You panicked, why did I have to confess
the insane depths of my emotion?
I knew and even though you're not in love,
though I wasn’t anyone else’s
why did I have to try and claim you?
Now everywhere I go there is something
to remind me of you, I can't
divert my mind, It shames me.
I’ve knocked on all other doors, I’ve tried
having the slashes on my heart bandaged.
Cos I’m torn between you
and the image in my head; the fiction I’ve always fancied.
Someone to swoop down from the skies,
and with all their lullabies,
break my insomniatic wake.
But then you came and you stayed.
swaying with me through my darkest days,
pulling me from my stagnancy
And even though you're not in love yet
or even someone else’s
I still cant quite believe it
that you were the rope I had been chasing all my life.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Reminiscence
I love all the things you've said, now that you're not around to say them anymore.
I hate that you don't remember half of them. I hate that you think they only sound stupid.
I love how your name crops up, deliciously and unexpectedly, in general conversation.
I hate how it makes me start and stumble out explanations to upraised eyebrows
who cannot fathom what we meant to us.
I'm afraid you can't anymore either.
If I asked you to stay, would you?
In His Arms
Siphoned off memories reverberating through space
Moment after moment collecting in times embrace
Weaving through the last dune of the desert sphere
Blood before milk and milk before the tears
And thought before hope before life before fear
Together bowing down to his chest to hear
His heart drumming, like a whisper for help
Moment after moment collecting in times embrace
Weaving through the last dune of the desert sphere
Blood before milk and milk before the tears
And thought before hope before life before fear
Together bowing down to his chest to hear
His heart drumming, like a whisper for help
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Stay
When you're gone, I’ll read all the things I wrote about you, and for you, and never had the courage to admit even to myself.
When you’re gone, I’ll realize I have nothing to hold you in. The gifts were passed on and days were spent, not documented through forceful posing. And I will be completely adrift wondering if anyone has ever felt this way, if you would ever have felt this way.
People will not know what I am smiling at so sorrowfully nor recalling so keenly and questions will be just as futile as remedies, because all I’ll have left to say for myself is one name.
When you’re gone, you’ll take me with you. All the good things I wanted the world to know me as will be no longer be worth being anymore. I will not have peace because my sanity depended on yours to shelter mine.
When you’re gone, I will break. A thousand times and again and again with every belabored breath and without picking up the pieces, break again.
When you’re gone, all my dreams will turn into mocking nightmares and all my hopes into jeers. Nothing will ever be in reach or wanted with the same sincere abandon. There will be no reason. When you’re gone, there will be no outward sign of the wreck within, but the flags I raise will forever be of a sickened surrender to wherever life chooses to take me now.
And then every place, every song, every stray cloud on a grey evening will be a little jab in my ribs from the inside. When you’re gone, I’ll wish you had stayed, and I’ll be sorry.
When you’re gone, I’ll realize I have nothing to hold you in. The gifts were passed on and days were spent, not documented through forceful posing. And I will be completely adrift wondering if anyone has ever felt this way, if you would ever have felt this way.
People will not know what I am smiling at so sorrowfully nor recalling so keenly and questions will be just as futile as remedies, because all I’ll have left to say for myself is one name.
When you’re gone, you’ll take me with you. All the good things I wanted the world to know me as will be no longer be worth being anymore. I will not have peace because my sanity depended on yours to shelter mine.
When you’re gone, I will break. A thousand times and again and again with every belabored breath and without picking up the pieces, break again.
When you’re gone, all my dreams will turn into mocking nightmares and all my hopes into jeers. Nothing will ever be in reach or wanted with the same sincere abandon. There will be no reason. When you’re gone, there will be no outward sign of the wreck within, but the flags I raise will forever be of a sickened surrender to wherever life chooses to take me now.
And then every place, every song, every stray cloud on a grey evening will be a little jab in my ribs from the inside. When you’re gone, I’ll wish you had stayed, and I’ll be sorry.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Quelqu'un M'a Dit
There are still
some bits of his face she hasn't kissed
yet,
some parts of his body she hasn't explored
yet,
running her tongue and nose
up and down his body.
His flesh creases, folds and lines,
its colour alters,
But then she never desired him because he was perfect, but because he was he.
some bits of his face she hasn't kissed
yet,
some parts of his body she hasn't explored
yet,
running her tongue and nose
up and down his body.
His flesh creases, folds and lines,
its colour alters,
But then she never desired him because he was perfect, but because he was he.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Reflection
The way you smile at me makes my pulse skip a beat. My heart swells with feeling, till I feel every inch of me, to my very fingertips, is filled with the sensation of you. And then your hand folds over mine in the simplest of actions, and even after all this time, even after all this passion, this simple act is enough to make me want to wrap myself around you like a vine and never let go.
When you pull me close, everything else fades away. Noise, people, the world around all become a grey blur in the background, and I am a slave to you, lost instantly in the feel of your hand in my hair, lost in the volumes your eyes speak when they move over my face.
I watch you when you are not looking, and you are so beautiful to me. The curve of your cheek, your jawline, the way your eyes crinkle in laughter or in thought. I think I could go blind and forget colour, yet remember the way your knowing smile spreads across your face when you make me blush.
When Catherine spoke of Heathcliff, she said, "He is more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." It makes me think our differences are part of the magic - that two so entirely different people can be so like each other, can know each other so well. You match my edges to your own as though we are the same piece carved from the same puzzle, yet we belong to entirely different parts of the picture.
People say the danger of falling in love is losing yourself. But you reveal myself to me every time I look at my reflection in your eyes.
When you pull me close, everything else fades away. Noise, people, the world around all become a grey blur in the background, and I am a slave to you, lost instantly in the feel of your hand in my hair, lost in the volumes your eyes speak when they move over my face.
I watch you when you are not looking, and you are so beautiful to me. The curve of your cheek, your jawline, the way your eyes crinkle in laughter or in thought. I think I could go blind and forget colour, yet remember the way your knowing smile spreads across your face when you make me blush.
When Catherine spoke of Heathcliff, she said, "He is more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." It makes me think our differences are part of the magic - that two so entirely different people can be so like each other, can know each other so well. You match my edges to your own as though we are the same piece carved from the same puzzle, yet we belong to entirely different parts of the picture.
People say the danger of falling in love is losing yourself. But you reveal myself to me every time I look at my reflection in your eyes.
You
I wanted you.
A little bit, and a lot
parts of you at different times
and your whole every now and again.
Sometimes your eyes hidden behind your glares
the lines around their corners as you'd hint a smile
Sometimes your carved nose and the way it holds your face together,
and your glasses up
So our eyes would meet often, but only through that glass, and never truly touch.
Sometimes your lips, and the little that comes out of them
Sometimes the straight teeth and the witty mouth
that speaks of everything
but love.
Sometimes a little bit of you
Sometimes a lot.
I wanted you.
A little bit, and a lot
parts of you at different times
and your whole every now and again.
Sometimes your eyes hidden behind your glares
the lines around their corners as you'd hint a smile
Sometimes your carved nose and the way it holds your face together,
and your glasses up
So our eyes would meet often, but only through that glass, and never truly touch.
Sometimes your lips, and the little that comes out of them
Sometimes the straight teeth and the witty mouth
that speaks of everything
but love.
Sometimes a little bit of you
Sometimes a lot.
I wanted you.
In Silence
In silence, I could devour his gentle eyelids
strip them of their candescence glow with stolen kisses
dim the lights down, a little lower than before
until his eyes hold the darkness of my face near his,
firmly.
In silence, I could leave his worries estranged
as I'd breathe love into the pulse dancing on his fragile chest, into his fearful heart
Clashing footsteps in my mind and his, while the street lights cast no traces of life.
This world of frenzy trapped inside his head
"Are we staying here, in this moment, only to leave?"
His thoughts drum faster, through his lips into mine
Fears. Unfathomable, unconquered.
I lay there, having won the game of loss
in hopes of building a dream
with him.
strip them of their candescence glow with stolen kisses
dim the lights down, a little lower than before
until his eyes hold the darkness of my face near his,
firmly.
In silence, I could leave his worries estranged
as I'd breathe love into the pulse dancing on his fragile chest, into his fearful heart
Clashing footsteps in my mind and his, while the street lights cast no traces of life.
This world of frenzy trapped inside his head
"Are we staying here, in this moment, only to leave?"
His thoughts drum faster, through his lips into mine
Fears. Unfathomable, unconquered.
I lay there, having won the game of loss
in hopes of building a dream
with him.
To The Moon and Back
I could close my eyes and let them breathe for once - away from his eyes
I could stop my heart from being split in two - and for once, conquer the way it feels.
I could tie my hands to his wrist and let him lead
I could hold onto this ill-made boat of love
and with it, sink.
Like the sky - too far to be truly ours.
Like silence from lips left uncertain.
Like tomorrows and their promises paper thin.
Like the dismissed agony of storms within.
Like love that'll never see the light of day
and measure to the moon and back.
He's mine.
Yet never will be.
I could stop my heart from being split in two - and for once, conquer the way it feels.
I could tie my hands to his wrist and let him lead
I could hold onto this ill-made boat of love
and with it, sink.
Like the sky - too far to be truly ours.
Like silence from lips left uncertain.
Like tomorrows and their promises paper thin.
Like the dismissed agony of storms within.
Like love that'll never see the light of day
and measure to the moon and back.
He's mine.
Yet never will be.
Rid Me Of This Love
Leave the scars on my body
The lines of my lips
My knotted hair around your fingertips
Leave them all here for me
But, take this love.
Leave the aching sound of your laughter
Still ringing inside my empty head,
hitting every wall of my heart,
brushing each barrier around it.
But, rid me of this love.
Leave my eyes with your reflections
My hands with remnants of your strong arms
My muffled voice that speaks of you best
But, take from me this love.
Take these time of being everywhere but with you
With everyone, but you
And still being absent from it all.
Leave all of you that remains within me
I will carry that burden-- for I must.
Leave me nothing but your memories
But, please rid me of this love.
The lines of my lips
My knotted hair around your fingertips
Leave them all here for me
But, take this love.
Leave the aching sound of your laughter
Still ringing inside my empty head,
hitting every wall of my heart,
brushing each barrier around it.
But, rid me of this love.
Leave my eyes with your reflections
My hands with remnants of your strong arms
My muffled voice that speaks of you best
But, take from me this love.
Take these time of being everywhere but with you
With everyone, but you
And still being absent from it all.
Leave all of you that remains within me
I will carry that burden-- for I must.
Leave me nothing but your memories
But, please rid me of this love.
Muse
I blame you for this other world that I’m in
for breaking into dreams that need miracles to be fulfilled
I blame me for being susceptible enough to you
for allowing myself to be drawn in while knowing what you can do
for losing track of conversations, lapsing into unexplained smiles
finding it easier to lower my guard, smiling and throwing a tantrum, all at the same time
Remembering and smiling in the bitchiest of life woes, laughing at the lamest joke
Reconsidering a longer time, being hopeful enough to hope you are happy.
for breaking into dreams that need miracles to be fulfilled
I blame me for being susceptible enough to you
for allowing myself to be drawn in while knowing what you can do
for losing track of conversations, lapsing into unexplained smiles
finding it easier to lower my guard, smiling and throwing a tantrum, all at the same time
Remembering and smiling in the bitchiest of life woes, laughing at the lamest joke
Reconsidering a longer time, being hopeful enough to hope you are happy.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Heal
It's been a while since I spoke to you.
Say things I've wanted to.
Listen to what you have to say.
Chances are I wouldn't tell you anything out of the ordinary.
Neither would you come up with something I didn't already know.
We know each other too well for that.
Like the waves in the ocean, skimming the surface, not quite interacting with the dark waters, right at the bottom.
Yet somehow, fully versed with what every little, magnificent drop has to offer.
It's beautiful, no?
I'm aware of what reaction every little action would illicit from you.
There's something comforting in the knowledge that I can gauge, time and eventually smile an understanding smile.
The power that some invisible force of nature rendered to you, which enables you to reach out to me, before you really even do, is fascinating.
I'm struck with wonder at the enormity of our emotions.
Strangely enough, we don't feel the same things.
If I tasted sour, you tasted sweet.
If I leaned in, you stood strong, ready to embrace me.
If I danced to self-composed tunes, you projected two left feet.
If you said North, I'd run South.
And such was how we lay perfect in our imperfections.
You were the white light passing through a prism, forced to burst into a spectacular array of shining colors. That was me.
Blinding all, with the brilliance of my joy. Happiness that was tangible.
We lent this inconceivable energy to the air around us, and forgot all about the prism.
Naturally it's lost now.
Allowing you to remain the seamless white light you always were, originating from nothingness.
And me? Forget colors, grey or even white. I'm nothing.
Not a form of energy. Not of matter.
But let bygones be bygones.
These nights, as I watch you sitting diagonally across me, I wonder in amazement, how things change.
I don't feel hollow anymore.
Something feels like it's been healed. And that's what's odd.
I didn't know what broke in the first place.
Of course, even now I can't jerk the wound. It needs its time.
I still look at you with affection, and please know that I love you, with absolute sincerity.
I know that things will eventually change, and it has to, but I'm happy now, and I'm not thinking. Because I'm ready for whatever is next.
With you, or without you, I guess it'll have to do.
I have finally learnt that when there's somebody else looking out for it and relying on it, that is reason enough to smile.
I will do and say anything, as long as you are happy.
Until then, I'll keep washing the shores, while you kiss the sea-bed, and when on a nostalgic night, the moon decides to boast, the tides will change, a storm will ensue, and who knows?
We may just meet.
Say things I've wanted to.
Listen to what you have to say.
Chances are I wouldn't tell you anything out of the ordinary.
Neither would you come up with something I didn't already know.
We know each other too well for that.
Like the waves in the ocean, skimming the surface, not quite interacting with the dark waters, right at the bottom.
Yet somehow, fully versed with what every little, magnificent drop has to offer.
It's beautiful, no?
I'm aware of what reaction every little action would illicit from you.
There's something comforting in the knowledge that I can gauge, time and eventually smile an understanding smile.
The power that some invisible force of nature rendered to you, which enables you to reach out to me, before you really even do, is fascinating.
I'm struck with wonder at the enormity of our emotions.
Strangely enough, we don't feel the same things.
If I tasted sour, you tasted sweet.
If I leaned in, you stood strong, ready to embrace me.
If I danced to self-composed tunes, you projected two left feet.
If you said North, I'd run South.
And such was how we lay perfect in our imperfections.
You were the white light passing through a prism, forced to burst into a spectacular array of shining colors. That was me.
Blinding all, with the brilliance of my joy. Happiness that was tangible.
We lent this inconceivable energy to the air around us, and forgot all about the prism.
Naturally it's lost now.
Allowing you to remain the seamless white light you always were, originating from nothingness.
And me? Forget colors, grey or even white. I'm nothing.
Not a form of energy. Not of matter.
But let bygones be bygones.
These nights, as I watch you sitting diagonally across me, I wonder in amazement, how things change.
I don't feel hollow anymore.
Something feels like it's been healed. And that's what's odd.
I didn't know what broke in the first place.
Of course, even now I can't jerk the wound. It needs its time.
I still look at you with affection, and please know that I love you, with absolute sincerity.
I know that things will eventually change, and it has to, but I'm happy now, and I'm not thinking. Because I'm ready for whatever is next.
With you, or without you, I guess it'll have to do.
I have finally learnt that when there's somebody else looking out for it and relying on it, that is reason enough to smile.
I will do and say anything, as long as you are happy.
Until then, I'll keep washing the shores, while you kiss the sea-bed, and when on a nostalgic night, the moon decides to boast, the tides will change, a storm will ensue, and who knows?
We may just meet.
Line
Was there ever a line? If there was, I crossed it, long, long ago. I'm so far beyond that when I turn around to look at the point where I started I see only a speck of vanity, a trail of ignorance, but above all, I see innocence. I'm lax. But when it comes to you, I don't let go. I knew you. I know you. You seem so close. Close enough that when I breathe, your scent catches me off guard. I inhale and it's like a rush of that breeze I can't see, I can't control, but it still chills me, still makes its presence felt, in a way that it makes me stop and think even amidst the flurry of colorless chores, faceless faces and hands that touch but don't leave fingerprints.
One of those days that I don't think about it, the breeze is even stronger in its intensity. You hit me hardest when I don't expect it. I've been walking in the desert for too long. So much so that when I spot that pool of water, I don't look left or right. I dive. You're beautiful. But only to me. Black, black, black, white. I zoom into you, as soon as I see you. No. Somehow, as soon as I sense you.
It's not a war, I want them to know. I actually don't even care anymore. Because they'll think, think and think, but towards the end of it all, I'll still love you. And with so much pain that it's almost physically evident now. With so much intensity, with so much concentration that someday my love will be tangible. Something you/they won't be able to erase.
You're the more comfortable choice. You're patient. You're important. You're love with a whole new meaning. Sometimes I can't even tell the difference. There's nothing that's not right when I'm with you. I love you too much to be unfair to you. It's not that I'm crazy. I'm a happy person with you. There's only an unhappy part of me, and it's growing restless. I miss non-conformity, but then again, how much do I know of it? This is probably the closest I've ever gotten. My eyes say a lot don't they. They always give me away. I don't want to involve, but someone, somewhere, has entirely different plans for me. What do I really want? That's immaterial. I could want to sleep on a cloud, I could want to hold a star, I could want to start over, I could want to just pause and feel what I'm feeling for as long as I'm feeling. I could want to stop breathing. That way, at least one sense of mine could be numbed toward all yours.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Things I Love About Saleh, Saleh & Saleh
There are little things I love.
Your dainty toes peeking out from under the covers, tempting me to pull and tickle.
The way your surly face transforms into a grudging, nose wrinkled, grinch-like smile when I force you to look at me after a fight.
Your new-found teenage stubbornness that reminds me of mine, only retired.
The premature creak of your door announcing your cat's sly, eaves-dropping presence.
Your dainty toes peeking out from under the covers, tempting me to pull and tickle.
The way your surly face transforms into a grudging, nose wrinkled, grinch-like smile when I force you to look at me after a fight.
Your new-found teenage stubbornness that reminds me of mine, only retired.
The premature creak of your door announcing your cat's sly, eaves-dropping presence.
How adorably innocent you look, asleep, in your sarong; stretched in innocent, elegant motionlessness while I skulk around for you to wake up.
Your pretty little mouth, habituated to bursts of mocking laughter and acidic retorts that make you look more vulnerable, the more you try to look ugly.
The unusualness uniting our laughs and giggles.
Your pretty little mouth, habituated to bursts of mocking laughter and acidic retorts that make you look more vulnerable, the more you try to look ugly.
The unusualness uniting our laughs and giggles.
But I hate this standoff. And I hate the nameless things stopping me from reaching out, and you from giving in.
And I love you. More than these pitiful, tried and tired words can tell. Words that I feel ashamed to use.
Words; my fatal folly, second only to my pride, followed by palpable, painful silence.
Why do you think I tip toe around what I have for you?
There is a sheer drop on the other side.
And I love you. More than these pitiful, tried and tired words can tell. Words that I feel ashamed to use.
Words; my fatal folly, second only to my pride, followed by palpable, painful silence.
Why do you think I tip toe around what I have for you?
There is a sheer drop on the other side.
When Love Is...
An Attraction
He sat across from me that night
It was magical as our eyes conversed
Our time was up but I was too submersed
I was indifferent as to where he was from
He seemed carefree too hence our love was born
Lust
The boyish grins, the sparkling eyes
The sweet surrender, nothing to hide
Tension, heat, submission, passion
Touching, stroking, pleasure, addiction
Body meets body, eyes meet eyes
Midnight oil burns, body temperatures rise
An Obsession
You were meant to exist only for me
So I shall decide what these lips should speak
I crave for thee from the bottom of my heart
I'll remain hungry for your touch till I depart
I am the moth and you're the flame
Day and night, I breathe your name
A Disease
Sink into my blood and flow into my veins
What is pleasure if not soaked in pain
Everywhere I go your memories follow
The heaviness, emptiness and the hollow
Tonight let your thoughts be my ecstasy
And let this deadly storm outside be my pathetic fallacy
A Deception
Your love was a hoax it was all a game
You walked away from me now who do I blame
The lies, the broken promises, the torture
My heart is in a million pieces since your departure
The void you created will remain forever
You won't be forgiven, not now, not ever
A Dream
In the midst of this solitude
Falls a moment of gratitude
Where you and I are on a swing
Enjoying the cool breeze in spring
I wake up next to you in an hour glass
Where love sprinkles upon us for eternity
Nothing But Love
Through the back door of this thing called life
Let's escape to the world of pure fantasy
Just you and I walking through heaven
Let's build our home with abstract walls of love
And chimes being the only instrument for now
Let the winds compose the song of love tonight
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Passionate Love-Making
He probed.
She was unsure.
But eventually yielded.
"I love you. You're amazing."
He won't say it back.
No, scratch that. He can't say it back.
Carefully, very carefully, he tries all he can.
Take two.
One small push and she's all his.
Moving in perfect synchronization of body, of life.
How does she say it?
Without him getting scared and backing off?
Her mind screams, "I love you! I fucking love you! And I've loved you all this while."
But her mouth stays locked in his.
The words lost in the heat of the moment. Drowned in passion.
"Relax," he says, sensing the urgency and the tenseness in her back.
She lets out a soft moan, as his hands move down, easing out all her apprehensions.
They shift.
The kisses are different.
His more tearing. Hers, softer. Her hand caressing his face. Obvious love.
Muffled gasps. Sharp pain.
Long drawn sigh.
Unshed tears, distracted by tethering his body, embedding her nails in his arched back.
Teeth gnawing supple skin.
Red. Color of hurt. Color of passion. Of love.
She strokes his hair as he slowly moves her hair out of her face to get a closer look.
He doesn't call her beautiful. Something stops him. At the very edge.
But she wants to know.
Lazy exhaustion. Slower kisses. Wild submission. Acceptance. Denial. Tired.
Women don't understand, but this is the best part. Contentment.
He snuggles closer. His hand always in motion against her back. He kisses her head discreetly, thinking she can't tell. She can. She can always tell.
He mutters with his eyes shut. Still holding her close. She doesn't think he realizes that this is the closest they've gotten in a long time. And it's the closest they will be, all bared, in a very, very long time to come.
"I wanna get a smoke."
This is it. She doesn't want to let go. She's finally found something comfortable. Comforting. Something that doesn't make her squirm, or jump back in disapproval and skepticism. She was scared she'd find out how irrevocable her feelings were where he was concerned if she ever landed up in something like this. And there you go. She found out. And it hit her so hard, that she doesn't mind not being carefully handled, or not called beautiful, or looked at with a certain kind of deep love only some pair of eyes can show her. For all she cares. Ravage my body. Be harsh yet truthful. Be the heartbreaker my friends have been warning me about. Do exactly this to me, again and again and fucking again. But be mine. In whatever limited and warped form that may be possible.
She studies the marks he gave her on her upper right cheek, the moment she gets home, and stands in front of the mirror, running her hands smoothly over each one of them. And then slowly turns around to see a slightly different, lonely one at the nape of her neck. She doesn't touch it, but quickly looks away. Thinking of the marks on his body, there's some consolation that he can't do away with them any time soon. She smiles a soulless smile. This is not me. It's not who I am. What am I doing?
She was unsure.
But eventually yielded.
"I love you. You're amazing."
He won't say it back.
No, scratch that. He can't say it back.
Carefully, very carefully, he tries all he can.
Take two.
One small push and she's all his.
Moving in perfect synchronization of body, of life.
How does she say it?
Without him getting scared and backing off?
Her mind screams, "I love you! I fucking love you! And I've loved you all this while."
But her mouth stays locked in his.
The words lost in the heat of the moment. Drowned in passion.
"Relax," he says, sensing the urgency and the tenseness in her back.
She lets out a soft moan, as his hands move down, easing out all her apprehensions.
They shift.
The kisses are different.
His more tearing. Hers, softer. Her hand caressing his face. Obvious love.
Muffled gasps. Sharp pain.
Long drawn sigh.
Unshed tears, distracted by tethering his body, embedding her nails in his arched back.
Teeth gnawing supple skin.
Red. Color of hurt. Color of passion. Of love.
She strokes his hair as he slowly moves her hair out of her face to get a closer look.
He doesn't call her beautiful. Something stops him. At the very edge.
But she wants to know.
Lazy exhaustion. Slower kisses. Wild submission. Acceptance. Denial. Tired.
Women don't understand, but this is the best part. Contentment.
He snuggles closer. His hand always in motion against her back. He kisses her head discreetly, thinking she can't tell. She can. She can always tell.
He mutters with his eyes shut. Still holding her close. She doesn't think he realizes that this is the closest they've gotten in a long time. And it's the closest they will be, all bared, in a very, very long time to come.
"I wanna get a smoke."
This is it. She doesn't want to let go. She's finally found something comfortable. Comforting. Something that doesn't make her squirm, or jump back in disapproval and skepticism. She was scared she'd find out how irrevocable her feelings were where he was concerned if she ever landed up in something like this. And there you go. She found out. And it hit her so hard, that she doesn't mind not being carefully handled, or not called beautiful, or looked at with a certain kind of deep love only some pair of eyes can show her. For all she cares. Ravage my body. Be harsh yet truthful. Be the heartbreaker my friends have been warning me about. Do exactly this to me, again and again and fucking again. But be mine. In whatever limited and warped form that may be possible.
She studies the marks he gave her on her upper right cheek, the moment she gets home, and stands in front of the mirror, running her hands smoothly over each one of them. And then slowly turns around to see a slightly different, lonely one at the nape of her neck. She doesn't touch it, but quickly looks away. Thinking of the marks on his body, there's some consolation that he can't do away with them any time soon. She smiles a soulless smile. This is not me. It's not who I am. What am I doing?
Giving in because you've given yourself to him completely. Somebody please answer. Consumed.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Anchor
I could see the fall, my fall. If I'd walked a little way up I'd face it. I was telling myself to stop. Scraping my feet against the ground, like a child living in denial, to the point where they started burning.
That's when you stood right behind my back and stopped my futile attempts. You were calm. Like the sea after a storm. You gave me a slight push and a reassuring nod. Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere. Walk. The life in me is being drained. There's a lot more waiting for you. Then why do I feel so abandoned?
You didn't give me an option. It felt like you were the catalyst. I blamed you. But a million emotions and a thousand feet later, I feel only gratitude. The firm hands, the only strength I've come to know, remain. The only constant. You are my oxygen. Not the the regular kind that I breathe everyday. But the limited kind that's in a mask. That saved me.
Every time I felt my legs giving away, you'd pull me up. Be my anchor. You'd say everything I should've. You may have even wronged the one you shouldn't have. But that's probably what made you for me... YOU. Thank you.
So engrossed in you. Complicated. Uncomplicated. Your concern left me without it. There was so much to deal with. Should I, should I nots'. It made me forget. Like a sugar-coating over all the deep, dark chocolate. It shines enough to capture your attention. It's all I needed, I craved.
You don't give me the time to think. To miss. To hurt. But more than enough to love.
You joke, it heals. You talk, it involves. You sulk, all smiles :)
You're the prelude, that makes my song beautiful. Captivating, authentic. They're all still whirling in the aftermath. They can't deal with it can they? :)
But let me be me. Not you. For I don't want to be standing at the edge again. I'm sick of refuting. I love you. I'm scared. :(
For now, I once again loop my arm through yours, for our walk through the nature reserve. Swept with comfort.
That's when you stood right behind my back and stopped my futile attempts. You were calm. Like the sea after a storm. You gave me a slight push and a reassuring nod. Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere. Walk. The life in me is being drained. There's a lot more waiting for you. Then why do I feel so abandoned?
You didn't give me an option. It felt like you were the catalyst. I blamed you. But a million emotions and a thousand feet later, I feel only gratitude. The firm hands, the only strength I've come to know, remain. The only constant. You are my oxygen. Not the the regular kind that I breathe everyday. But the limited kind that's in a mask. That saved me.
Every time I felt my legs giving away, you'd pull me up. Be my anchor. You'd say everything I should've. You may have even wronged the one you shouldn't have. But that's probably what made you for me... YOU. Thank you.
So engrossed in you. Complicated. Uncomplicated. Your concern left me without it. There was so much to deal with. Should I, should I nots'. It made me forget. Like a sugar-coating over all the deep, dark chocolate. It shines enough to capture your attention. It's all I needed, I craved.
You don't give me the time to think. To miss. To hurt. But more than enough to love.
You joke, it heals. You talk, it involves. You sulk, all smiles :)
You're the prelude, that makes my song beautiful. Captivating, authentic. They're all still whirling in the aftermath. They can't deal with it can they? :)
But let me be me. Not you. For I don't want to be standing at the edge again. I'm sick of refuting. I love you. I'm scared. :(
For now, I once again loop my arm through yours, for our walk through the nature reserve. Swept with comfort.
Fumes
Sharp edges and pitch dark. It's so cold. What is this place? I hear laughter far away. Really far away. I try following the sound, the warmth. But my face meets glass. Icy, hard glass. Unbreakable. I want to cry but the tears don't come. I want to scream but my voice is lost. I collapse on the stone floor. Crumpled to nothing.
"My baby, you know I really like you right? I want you to know, I'll always be there for you."
How does one change a habit? Your feeling is the only one I'm aware of. The feeling of 'you.' Even if you took me in your arms only to push me off the edge, I wouldn't flinch. The breaths would come and go. My heart would beat steadily, while I smiled and shut my eyes, only to embrace death. Because you gave it to me.
"You have to trust me. I will never break your heart. Please do not be scared. Let me in."
We're equals. Tiny fragments of me have been left behind, please look, won't you? If you didn't roll me into one and smoke it already. How did we get here? How did I get here? I've lost me. I've found me. Help. It's too lonely here. Too cold. I can try and cry. As much, in my burrow, and get done too, complete a circle, get back to the starting point and nobody's lives would have changed. But will you know? Somehow? Shut forever. I lay shivering on the ground. Faintly aware of distant laughter, conversation and oblivious joy.
You never said it. And I stopped breathing.
"My baby, you know I really like you right? I want you to know, I'll always be there for you."
How does one change a habit? Your feeling is the only one I'm aware of. The feeling of 'you.' Even if you took me in your arms only to push me off the edge, I wouldn't flinch. The breaths would come and go. My heart would beat steadily, while I smiled and shut my eyes, only to embrace death. Because you gave it to me.
"You have to trust me. I will never break your heart. Please do not be scared. Let me in."
We're equals. Tiny fragments of me have been left behind, please look, won't you? If you didn't roll me into one and smoke it already. How did we get here? How did I get here? I've lost me. I've found me. Help. It's too lonely here. Too cold. I can try and cry. As much, in my burrow, and get done too, complete a circle, get back to the starting point and nobody's lives would have changed. But will you know? Somehow? Shut forever. I lay shivering on the ground. Faintly aware of distant laughter, conversation and oblivious joy.
"I'm in love with this moment. I love you."
"I'm sorry..."
"I'm sorry..."
You never said it. And I stopped breathing.
Sculptor
Dear Sculptor,
Thank you. For being my uncertified guardian. I never quite understood the concept of a cloud with a silver lining. A ray of hope. For me, when something goes wrong, it consumes me. It blurs my vision. I may have changed on the surface over the past few years. But I'm still the same person. When we're holding hands. When I slip them into yours. It's like they've found a place where they belong. And then I look at your hands. So sure and firm. So comfortable with what is and not worried about what will become. I think that pretty much defines us. Not so much as individuals. But more of our places in the friendship we share. You're keeping me together. Placing every little part where it's supposed to be and making sure nothing falls out of place. That I don't fall out of place. Like a sculptor possessive about his sculpture. The crooked, ugly, dejected sculpture that he found abandoned, but now makes it beautiful. And he even thinks that the beauty lay within the sculpture. The sculpture would beg to differ :).
It's you. The one with the magic. It's always been you. You've always managed to capture the beauty in everything that you see. That surrounds you. No matter how asymmetrical, unfit, and shabby it is. You have a beautiful heart. One that turns everything half as beautiful as itself, once it makes place for it inside itself. I'm probably one of those mildly "made beautiful" things by you. I never knew or thought I was anything worth a second look until you told me so many times that I finally looked at my reflection in the mirror for a second longer and almost believed you.
It's like I've transformed slowly since I've known you. I've learnt to be more of me than what somebody else wants me to be. I'd gladly be whatever you wanted me to be but I stopped trying the day I realized that all you really wanted was me. Just as I was. It was oddly unsettling at first. But I came into my own soon enough. And now I can just prop up my legs in an unlady-like way, or eat like a person who hasn't seen food in days. Or pull my hair back and wear clothes that do anything but flatter me and still know that you'll want me the same amount. That you'll still be the happiest to say that I was yours. And yet it doesn't make me want to stop trying for you. It makes me want to tell you every second of every minute of every hour of every day, that I love you. I love you for being so selfless when it came to me.
We never really grow out of being nine year olds. Throughout our lives, somewhere or the other, we're always haunted by the fear of being unwanted. Of being lonely. Of things not going your way. It's only the scales that change. The emotions remain. But I know I can go out and do something and face all of it now because you give me the strength to. You make your presence felt. It's like I can shut my eyes and be assured that everything is right because even if it's really not, you're there. When you tell me something's going to be right. It really is.
I'm so accustomed to knowing you'll be there that it's scary now. What if someday you're not? Funnily that's something I haven't been able to imagine. I can't conceive the very idea of not having you in my life.
You know that patch of shimmering water and the skyline that we see almost everyday? Can you imagine the water without the ever-changing-yet-constant horizon? It would be almost soulless. The sea itself wouldn't know where it should end. Where it's needed for it to stop. Where it would destroy itself. Or even the sky without the sea. A deep, hollow pit. Where you couldn't find anything. Not even yourself. That's how inseparable you are to my existence now. I just thought you should know. The most comforting and wondrous place I have ever known, is in your arms. And it hurts to turn over on my side, in the middle of the night, and not find you there.
I know, I know, this is probably the worst way you've ever seen anybody express themselves. But it's all that came to my mind. And for what it's worth, I really tried my best :).
I love you Saleh. My sweetheart, my sexhay bear, my baby. And I always will.
Your most grateful sculpture.
Thank you. For being my uncertified guardian. I never quite understood the concept of a cloud with a silver lining. A ray of hope. For me, when something goes wrong, it consumes me. It blurs my vision. I may have changed on the surface over the past few years. But I'm still the same person. When we're holding hands. When I slip them into yours. It's like they've found a place where they belong. And then I look at your hands. So sure and firm. So comfortable with what is and not worried about what will become. I think that pretty much defines us. Not so much as individuals. But more of our places in the friendship we share. You're keeping me together. Placing every little part where it's supposed to be and making sure nothing falls out of place. That I don't fall out of place. Like a sculptor possessive about his sculpture. The crooked, ugly, dejected sculpture that he found abandoned, but now makes it beautiful. And he even thinks that the beauty lay within the sculpture. The sculpture would beg to differ :).
It's you. The one with the magic. It's always been you. You've always managed to capture the beauty in everything that you see. That surrounds you. No matter how asymmetrical, unfit, and shabby it is. You have a beautiful heart. One that turns everything half as beautiful as itself, once it makes place for it inside itself. I'm probably one of those mildly "made beautiful" things by you. I never knew or thought I was anything worth a second look until you told me so many times that I finally looked at my reflection in the mirror for a second longer and almost believed you.
It's like I've transformed slowly since I've known you. I've learnt to be more of me than what somebody else wants me to be. I'd gladly be whatever you wanted me to be but I stopped trying the day I realized that all you really wanted was me. Just as I was. It was oddly unsettling at first. But I came into my own soon enough. And now I can just prop up my legs in an unlady-like way, or eat like a person who hasn't seen food in days. Or pull my hair back and wear clothes that do anything but flatter me and still know that you'll want me the same amount. That you'll still be the happiest to say that I was yours. And yet it doesn't make me want to stop trying for you. It makes me want to tell you every second of every minute of every hour of every day, that I love you. I love you for being so selfless when it came to me.
We never really grow out of being nine year olds. Throughout our lives, somewhere or the other, we're always haunted by the fear of being unwanted. Of being lonely. Of things not going your way. It's only the scales that change. The emotions remain. But I know I can go out and do something and face all of it now because you give me the strength to. You make your presence felt. It's like I can shut my eyes and be assured that everything is right because even if it's really not, you're there. When you tell me something's going to be right. It really is.
I'm so accustomed to knowing you'll be there that it's scary now. What if someday you're not? Funnily that's something I haven't been able to imagine. I can't conceive the very idea of not having you in my life.
You know that patch of shimmering water and the skyline that we see almost everyday? Can you imagine the water without the ever-changing-yet-constant horizon? It would be almost soulless. The sea itself wouldn't know where it should end. Where it's needed for it to stop. Where it would destroy itself. Or even the sky without the sea. A deep, hollow pit. Where you couldn't find anything. Not even yourself. That's how inseparable you are to my existence now. I just thought you should know. The most comforting and wondrous place I have ever known, is in your arms. And it hurts to turn over on my side, in the middle of the night, and not find you there.
I know, I know, this is probably the worst way you've ever seen anybody express themselves. But it's all that came to my mind. And for what it's worth, I really tried my best :).
I love you Saleh. My sweetheart, my sexhay bear, my baby. And I always will.
Your most grateful sculpture.
Sleeping Through Life (Memoirs)
We love, we hate, we turn.
I prop my legs up on the couch, and yawn.
Tousled hair and a nightie.
The sun, nudging past obstacles,
Touches my forehead tenderly.
And just like that you look at me,
You're beautiful, your eyes seem to say.
But your mouth just kisses me.
We obsess, we fight, we hurt.
With kohl-lined eyes and a scarlet mouth,
I make my way down the street now home.
But even home at night houses strangers.
But all dangers,
I pose,
Are to me. Myself. I don't know you anymore.
I tug at my dress, take off my tights,
And slip into you.
Into your once safe and warm hold.
We break, we take, and remake.
Bleak street lights on a cold night.
November clouds hover.
Two years later and I've already found a lover,
In the heart of this city.
Bound to it by an intricate weave of friendships,
Love, laughter, heartbreak and tears.
We think, we ponder, we procrastinate.
Strewn pillows across yellow bed sheets,
The whirring of the fan.
Blankets cover all the way up,
And you.
The innocent eyes are now a distant haze,
Seeing but not focusing.
Vacant with all the smoke.
Lover,
Call me beautiful.
Struggle,
I'll bear with you.
Drown,
Me into the deeper recesses of insanity.
I prop my legs up on the couch, and yawn.
Tousled hair and a nightie.
The sun, nudging past obstacles,
Touches my forehead tenderly.
And just like that you look at me,
You're beautiful, your eyes seem to say.
But your mouth just kisses me.
We obsess, we fight, we hurt.
With kohl-lined eyes and a scarlet mouth,
I make my way down the street now home.
But even home at night houses strangers.
But all dangers,
I pose,
Are to me. Myself. I don't know you anymore.
I tug at my dress, take off my tights,
And slip into you.
Into your once safe and warm hold.
We break, we take, and remake.
Bleak street lights on a cold night.
November clouds hover.
Two years later and I've already found a lover,
In the heart of this city.
Bound to it by an intricate weave of friendships,
Love, laughter, heartbreak and tears.
We think, we ponder, we procrastinate.
Strewn pillows across yellow bed sheets,
The whirring of the fan.
Blankets cover all the way up,
And you.
The innocent eyes are now a distant haze,
Seeing but not focusing.
Vacant with all the smoke.
Lover,
Call me beautiful.
Struggle,
I'll bear with you.
Drown,
Me into the deeper recesses of insanity.
Hour Glass
Most times I don't even know who the culprit is. Which one of us is contorting reality and dreams and concocting a bottomless pit to trap the other one into, not necessarily out of spite, and which one, pretending to be the victim, is resisting every little bit of this, somewhat possible without self-destruction, alliance.
But even in those briefest of moments where I can figure out the roles played by each of us in this convoluted yet such a simple way of life that we've temporarily chosen, I fall face flat because every lead in this 'investigation' hits me, and each time more forcefully, with the realization that we're both equally the criminals as well as the victims in this suspense.
Who is to say which one of us found whom. Maybe you made me catch on to the trail you so carefully left behind, or maybe, I lured you straight out of hiding because I knew exactly what you were looking for and exactly what you chose not to see. Knowing your target's strengths and weaknesses always made you that much more cautious, that much more powerful. We both knew each others, so then again, who is to say, which one of us was chasing and which was running. Who is to say, who caught up first.
This wasn't meant to sound dirty, and conspiratorial. I hold you so close to me that now I enjoy a smugness to do with buying your time, or your energy, love or care. I know that you do too, a lot more than you let on. Then where did I get involved in something that forces me to say that I'm 'In too deep.' I checked the depth before I stepped in. It was nowhere close to drowning levels, but now I'm not so sure.
I checked the weighing scales too, they were fair and not tampered with. Then how is it that in no time my side is tipping heavier? How is it that you keep unburdening your side? That shouldn't be allowed. If you're developing baggage, why don't you let me see it? Why do you have me under the impression that I'm the one that needs to be saved? When actually I'd much rather save you.
When we kissed that night, it was a lot slower than it should be permitted. It was like I didn't want to stop, like I was gathering every sensation that I could while it lasted. So who decides how long it lasts? You, of course. You say that you're scared of how intimate we are, while we're soaking up the warm sun, the same one that belongs to the entire city, but somehow uniquely belongs to you, after hours of only soaking up everything we could of each other. Like it would be the first and the last time that we could give and take so much without a soul watching, listening, intruding. I laugh and say it's because that I was mad that you've never done this with anyone else before. You don't contest that.
We're interlocked in a very fitting way. You make me whoever you want to make me whenever you want to, without changing the essence of me. And I enjoy these escapes from me. Especially because I can remember these experiences that almost seem like out-of-body ones. Sometimes what would work best would ensure that I could take you someplace else too, and I get the feeling that I already do. But it scares you to admit that I have the power to do that. And the novelty of this all scares you out of your skin, and I can see it while I'm watching you watch me. It's unnerving but I'm filing these memories away because something tells me it's all I'm going to have left of you. And it's not much. But it should suffice.
Nothing would have to change this if it wasn't what you were set out to do, and what I should be setting out to do. So just in less than two months, I'm going to lose something special, something beautiful and something I didn't think I would ever have, only because it's so free of the shackles that usually accompany something so pristine. And you know what the worst part is about losing something that's like home to you? The fact that you know exactly when you're going to lose it and even worse, that you're going to be putting away the next decade of your life on hold just waiting for it to return. After all, it's home.
TickTockTickTockTickTock...
But even in those briefest of moments where I can figure out the roles played by each of us in this convoluted yet such a simple way of life that we've temporarily chosen, I fall face flat because every lead in this 'investigation' hits me, and each time more forcefully, with the realization that we're both equally the criminals as well as the victims in this suspense.
Who is to say which one of us found whom. Maybe you made me catch on to the trail you so carefully left behind, or maybe, I lured you straight out of hiding because I knew exactly what you were looking for and exactly what you chose not to see. Knowing your target's strengths and weaknesses always made you that much more cautious, that much more powerful. We both knew each others, so then again, who is to say, which one of us was chasing and which was running. Who is to say, who caught up first.
This wasn't meant to sound dirty, and conspiratorial. I hold you so close to me that now I enjoy a smugness to do with buying your time, or your energy, love or care. I know that you do too, a lot more than you let on. Then where did I get involved in something that forces me to say that I'm 'In too deep.' I checked the depth before I stepped in. It was nowhere close to drowning levels, but now I'm not so sure.
I checked the weighing scales too, they were fair and not tampered with. Then how is it that in no time my side is tipping heavier? How is it that you keep unburdening your side? That shouldn't be allowed. If you're developing baggage, why don't you let me see it? Why do you have me under the impression that I'm the one that needs to be saved? When actually I'd much rather save you.
When we kissed that night, it was a lot slower than it should be permitted. It was like I didn't want to stop, like I was gathering every sensation that I could while it lasted. So who decides how long it lasts? You, of course. You say that you're scared of how intimate we are, while we're soaking up the warm sun, the same one that belongs to the entire city, but somehow uniquely belongs to you, after hours of only soaking up everything we could of each other. Like it would be the first and the last time that we could give and take so much without a soul watching, listening, intruding. I laugh and say it's because that I was mad that you've never done this with anyone else before. You don't contest that.
We're interlocked in a very fitting way. You make me whoever you want to make me whenever you want to, without changing the essence of me. And I enjoy these escapes from me. Especially because I can remember these experiences that almost seem like out-of-body ones. Sometimes what would work best would ensure that I could take you someplace else too, and I get the feeling that I already do. But it scares you to admit that I have the power to do that. And the novelty of this all scares you out of your skin, and I can see it while I'm watching you watch me. It's unnerving but I'm filing these memories away because something tells me it's all I'm going to have left of you. And it's not much. But it should suffice.
Nothing would have to change this if it wasn't what you were set out to do, and what I should be setting out to do. So just in less than two months, I'm going to lose something special, something beautiful and something I didn't think I would ever have, only because it's so free of the shackles that usually accompany something so pristine. And you know what the worst part is about losing something that's like home to you? The fact that you know exactly when you're going to lose it and even worse, that you're going to be putting away the next decade of your life on hold just waiting for it to return. After all, it's home.
TickTockTickTockTickTock...
Encore
Wake up one morning, in the same bed, the same house, the same you. Yet everything is different.
You don't complain about the rain anymore. The weather's not too hot anymore. Work isn't taxing anymore. And the hours aren't too short anymore. No, you're not in love. But in the prospect of being.
What happens when you've known someone, not so intimately, but intimate by default. And one morning they're changing the way you look at Life, or determining how many fits of rage, how many bouts of tears, how many shocks of happiness you're entitled to in a day. Or two. Or more.
You might want to get out of the situation. You might want to stay. But it's not up to you anymore. And when it was, you didn't even know you were in the situation.
All I want to do is hold your hand, when no one's watching, snuggle up to you after a much too intoxicated night, watch every little movement of yours, while you stay focused on television, with your head lying on my thighs. Watch you whisper to me that I'm beautiful, at the break of dawn. Stay, just for a cup of coffee, breakfast, and you. Steal looks and smiles, and hushed conversations, on cold nights. Exchange lives, exchange breaths, exchange souls and still stay intact.
Has it really been six months? It feels like a lifetime. Much too long for you to have been an impervious backdrop to the scenes in my reel of life and not have said a word until now.
Then why is it that when you chose to speak, and step out of every little frame of anonymity, to finally make me see you, you also brought with yourself a window to my old life, the ghosts that refuse to stop haunting. I want you without the memory of my mistakes. I want you without you being hurt or scared, of being you again. I want you, fearless.
I want you, and I don't register the thoughts of others, because when I look at you, I hear laughter, and a friendship, that at least in my head, I forged when I was much younger.
If only I'd met you then. If only I'd stopped myself. But you're in ink now. And I'm too far along.
Encore.
You don't complain about the rain anymore. The weather's not too hot anymore. Work isn't taxing anymore. And the hours aren't too short anymore. No, you're not in love. But in the prospect of being.
What happens when you've known someone, not so intimately, but intimate by default. And one morning they're changing the way you look at Life, or determining how many fits of rage, how many bouts of tears, how many shocks of happiness you're entitled to in a day. Or two. Or more.
You might want to get out of the situation. You might want to stay. But it's not up to you anymore. And when it was, you didn't even know you were in the situation.
All I want to do is hold your hand, when no one's watching, snuggle up to you after a much too intoxicated night, watch every little movement of yours, while you stay focused on television, with your head lying on my thighs. Watch you whisper to me that I'm beautiful, at the break of dawn. Stay, just for a cup of coffee, breakfast, and you. Steal looks and smiles, and hushed conversations, on cold nights. Exchange lives, exchange breaths, exchange souls and still stay intact.
Has it really been six months? It feels like a lifetime. Much too long for you to have been an impervious backdrop to the scenes in my reel of life and not have said a word until now.
Then why is it that when you chose to speak, and step out of every little frame of anonymity, to finally make me see you, you also brought with yourself a window to my old life, the ghosts that refuse to stop haunting. I want you without the memory of my mistakes. I want you without you being hurt or scared, of being you again. I want you, fearless.
I want you, and I don't register the thoughts of others, because when I look at you, I hear laughter, and a friendship, that at least in my head, I forged when I was much younger.
If only I'd met you then. If only I'd stopped myself. But you're in ink now. And I'm too far along.
Encore.
Dear Saleh,
Today after 6 months, 10 days, 22 hours, and 46 minutes, I feel upset. There's some stinging in my eyes. But they're probably yours. The tears. I want to cry for you. It's the least I can do. I do love you. Don't hate me for falling. Falling every way. In and out of love. Failing. Around attraction. Around confusion. I keep slipping because it's slippery. But you were a dry plank that kept its place for as long as it could. Stay, wont you? Don't make me hate this. Hate me.
Because no matter what. I know the pretty stretch will always exist. Those songs will exist. The smells and tastes will. The clothes will. The faint cologne will. The photographs will.
But most of all.
The feeling will.
And you and I will.
Yours,
Today after 6 months, 10 days, 22 hours, and 46 minutes, I feel upset. There's some stinging in my eyes. But they're probably yours. The tears. I want to cry for you. It's the least I can do. I do love you. Don't hate me for falling. Falling every way. In and out of love. Failing. Around attraction. Around confusion. I keep slipping because it's slippery. But you were a dry plank that kept its place for as long as it could. Stay, wont you? Don't make me hate this. Hate me.
Because no matter what. I know the pretty stretch will always exist. Those songs will exist. The smells and tastes will. The clothes will. The faint cologne will. The photographs will.
But most of all.
The feeling will.
And you and I will.
Yours,
Fyy
Oh, You
Wow.
Here it is.
There you are.
A year ago, I'd miss those eyes as easily. But now I have to tear my gaze away. I don't want to be caught. You know.
Of course I'm strong. I have no emotions. My heart's dried up.
And sure, I miss how you'd put your arms around me, just for a second, away from the crowd, and plant a kiss on my forehead, only to place me back in the drama, dreamily. Reality.
But I don't remember. I don't think. I'm closed. I'm strong.
Here it is.
There you are.
A year ago, I'd miss those eyes as easily. But now I have to tear my gaze away. I don't want to be caught. You know.
Of course I'm strong. I have no emotions. My heart's dried up.
And sure, I miss how you'd put your arms around me, just for a second, away from the crowd, and plant a kiss on my forehead, only to place me back in the drama, dreamily. Reality.
But I don't remember. I don't think. I'm closed. I'm strong.
"Are you listening to what I'm saying?!"
"Yeah babe. But. I have a new plan. I'm putting things into perspective. Wanna hear about it?"
"Sure."
"Yeah babe. But. I have a new plan. I'm putting things into perspective. Wanna hear about it?"
"Sure."
Dear Oblivion with a face. I love you.
I love being with you. I love the the task of containing you, just for the thrill of what you're going to burst into next. Exploding.
I didn't say that. I don't love. I don't feel.
Who knew you'd creep into me now? NOW? Why me? Self preservation.
Must.
Be.
Strong.
Inside of me.
Hold me by the waist.
Shut me up with a kiss.
Laugh at me, let me sulk, and then give me such a look that I forgive murder.
Keep me where all I can breathe is you.
Trust me, that all I want is you.
Flawed. Inconsiderate. Oblivious.
I love being with you. I love the the task of containing you, just for the thrill of what you're going to burst into next. Exploding.
I didn't say that. I don't love. I don't feel.
Who knew you'd creep into me now? NOW? Why me? Self preservation.
Must.
Be.
Strong.
Inside of me.
Hold me by the waist.
Shut me up with a kiss.
Laugh at me, let me sulk, and then give me such a look that I forgive murder.
Keep me where all I can breathe is you.
Trust me, that all I want is you.
Flawed. Inconsiderate. Oblivious.
I did not say that. My heart's dried up. I hope the ink does too...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)