since before i loved you,
i dreamt of your eyes:
two slices of blue gulf
stripped along the horizon,
with a million years of rain.
i wanted them before i knew you,
only they can penetrate me
with the force of a thousand burning suns.
i can feel them on my lips
through the sound of your breathing.
i love therefore i am.
sometimes i find it tough to show you that you’re the only one that matters in this life. and here you are: here i am.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged along, am, are, before, blue, breathing, burning, can, canf, dreamt, eyes, feel, find, force, glistening, gulf, here, horizon, i, knew, life, lips, love, loved, matters, me, million, my, of, one, only, penetrate, poems, poetry, rain, show, since, slices, sometimes, sound, stripped, suns, sure, that, them, therefore, they, this, thousand, through, tough, two, wanted, years, you, your
he did not recieve the text. good. so we chat. friends, not lovers, that we are: i question him of things and he shares his good news with me. at midnight. not that i didn’t ask him to, but he doesn’t bother informing you. funny?
relieved, i don’t think of the saved blushes and the heat does not rise to my cheeks: it doesn’t need to.
a sigh escapes like a fly through the open window, its wings no longer beating against the cold clear pane of glass.
phone on, i wait to hear a beep. from you or him, it hardly seems to matter.
i sleep lightly as of late, or as of early. since our trio of sleepover nights, it’s been better, but sometimes, i will wake up in the night and think you are with me, curled up on the floor.
no longer an insomniac, i don’t know how to classify myself. i want a tidy name to sum it all up. there isn’t one.
i’m on the edge right now and it’s nothing to do with the pair of you. my future lies within these very moments, encapsulated in the smell of old books and pheromones surging.
i call the number. it is busy. so i call again.
right now, all i care about is that the phone is picked up and they listen to me, if even for a while.
i heard a no. loud and clear, like a dead weight going into cold blue-black water.
deep, guttural sounds of a storm brewing. but the storm is already over. we lay on the deck and count the stars.
Posted in chapters of my life
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no response. my heart is the silence of the world sleeping.
i barely wrote about him: he never seemed to matter. you are my prince, patience incarnate. often all i need is that little piece of silent tenderness: i am simple but i change with the northerly wind.
all i seem to do is read and sleep: summer brings deep slumber to my senses and burning sun only makes itself felt on the nape of your neck. when my eyes see it, the gently tanned skin colour of sandalwood, an urge from deep within me wants to cradle it with the palms of my hands, feel its warmth as if through it i shall hold a ray of sunshine, all warm and sensual, taken from a book of mild erotica.
funny how when i felt it last, rejection felt like a consuming fire in every which one of my pores. now, it is a slight breeze tangling up my hair, soft sand in my eyes, thorny roses brushing against a scab: strangely seperate from me.
you think i can’t see the pain in your eyes. true, you hide it well, but i know you and i know that i told you that he mattered in more ways than one would care to. i’m sorry.
S is nothing; i am love.
it’s about aesthetics, feeling, about loving contour and form and not it straight lines … and i got too attached to you, S. funny that, i try to live without feeling.
no response. so we learn to fly.
Posted in chapters of my life
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words are emptiness
full and languid
deftly swept across a chasm.
we break it –
stale stolen bread for communion;
and drown it in white wine painted red,
where flesh merges with blood
and heart is clogged with lumps of fat.
words are just that.
Posted in excerpts
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we are intrepid dreamers
lost in the rhythm of this life.
we’ve lost belief,
but once we believed,
though never always,
and we could have been right.
but we weren’t.
i thought i’d do something different and write a “sunday 160“.
here’s to the future.
and to understanding.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged always, are, been, belief, believed, but, could, different, dreamers, future, have, here, intepid, life, lost, never, once, poem, poems, poetry, rhythm, right, something, sunday 160, this, though, understand, understanding, we, weren't