29. or maybe not yours at all

we talked about baby names today. not that we’ll have kids. not even that we’d ever want to, but that’s how conversation strays, non, mon ami? and we can laugh and giggle all we want but in the end, would we ever want a family?
it’s not something we have, or at least i have, thought about.

you think i’m not a family sort of girl and maybe i’m not. i don’t tell you enough about myself fro you to really know.
all you know is the way my breath tastes on your tongue and the way my hair flutters in the cold winter wind, ponytail restricting its movement. containing it.
and that’s all you need to know.

aren’t you happy with the piece of thread i stretch out to you, like a life line? the way i pretend there’s nothing else connecting us, because that’s the way i work?
and this is it. this is me. a solitary link in the collective chain, a broken smile amidst the glum faces.

yours and someone else’s.
or maybe not yours at all.

9 responses to “29. or maybe not yours at all

  1. “aren’t you happy with the piece of thread i stretch out to you, like a life line? the way i pretend there’s nothing else connecting us”

    I envy this about you…..whether I should or not is another story. Beautiful words.

  2. i really enjoy the detail you put into your writing. Even your prose is poetry.

  3. beautiful piece of prose “all you know is the way my breath tastes on your tongue” stunning line

  4. Brilliant!

    Perception is powerful. Especially when someone may think they have you penned, but you know different. Or when you think you have yourself penned, but you still know different.

    If that makes sense :-)

    Nicely done.xxx

  5. thank you all :)
    your appraising critique only makes me want to write more :D

  6. the question is, if the scrunchie (or however elle woods puts it) is curtailing the ponytail, what is curtailing you? why are those details the only things he knows? are you waiting for something, or someone else? (just random thoughts)

    as for me, if you asked me at age 16 to 19 what my greatest dream was, i’d tell you, “to be a mother.” at such a young age i don’t know where i got the courage to aspire to be something so great. now i don’t know what happened. no guy sees me as the mother type. so this entry speaks to me in a way that many others may not relate to, and you may not even have intended to. but there it is. i feel that i’ve lost something, and it takes a bold but beautifully written piece like this, to remind me that i’ve lost it and i have to address that loss.

    • we must lose some things along the way to find others – for every door that closes, another opens to let us in. but i admire your acceptance of changes. i sometimes find it difficult to even accept that i’ve changed throughout my life.

      and yes, i guess there is something curtailing me, but i think everyone has their own demons. the trick is to hide them well :D

  7. oh god… your words make me dizzy… this is incredible!

  8. oh wow! you’re too kind. thank you so much for your lovely comments!! i really appreciate them :):)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s