Tag Archives: boy

91. cultivating life

a vibrant note of a harpsichord flies in: a coloured bird, a richly feathered parrot. i feel alive; a spark travelling down a strip of litmus paper, exhuberantly coloured, incadescently moving.

such highs and lows of mine, such cirles in the eyes. infinity of life? π?

i hate mathematics, but i refuse to adore a man who does not love its obtuse, precisely measured form. i want a boy with a logical way of thinking, the kind who won’t leave you hanging by a word in the dark. i would rather compose the long silences myself, make them stem from the fullness of my mouth and the soft silk of my thighs.

lately, i have said too much about S. it is enough.
he is too cold, a firefly without the carnal fire. i should like to see him cultivating life.

87. my two plus two

we change. why do we do that? tell me truthfully and without needless words.
i spoke to you in a language you did not understand, in hope that your eyes would tell me what your lips couldn’t. in the end, your hands spoke, holding my flesh as if it were a vessel brimming with the very water of life.

i wonder how and why we have come to this river where the past merges with the future and washes over the present. more importantly, how did i leave Y behind with all his unread letters; and how did you find me amongst all the other grains of sand?

i’ve listened to too many sad songs, heard too many excuses and i spoke to Y on friday. 
completion.
he came out with a gem when i told him that really, i had never lied to him, never told him i’ll be yours forever. he told me that he never lied either. a lie is something that is said with the intention of deceit. clever boy. pah!
i stick to my two plus two: all my past hurt equals you. and i’m thankful.

and between the lapses in translation i’m convinced that nothing matters but me and you and your hands. they will find me all over again.

75. dear world, i’m writing to you tonight

dear world, i’m writing to you tonight. everyone else is either waiting for my call or doesn’t care at all and i’m tired of always turning up on time, of always taking no more than is mine, of feeling guilty for having the sheer components of this life.

i’m meant to be hopeful. imagine! i’m meant to dream, as if i haven’t dreamt all my life. i’m meant to be good, as if i’m not already on my best behaviour. i’m meant to burn without fire. is this what they call desire? surely not!

i’m told i have an addition to my caged harem. S. whipped into submission, you’d think. can you think, dear world?
another poor boy. never out of my sight, never in my bed. i should either lay him or let him go, no? no.

i will be crude tonight for i have an itch in my gut. the bile of the world is rising in my throat. and you can gloat. dear world, please gloat. because i will keep on living, so long dear god keeps forgiving all my wrongs and rights.

69. let the whole world ignite for me

i know the child in you. the one which craves the praise from the lips it longs to kiss. and yet the child cannot accept it, for the twinge of sarcasm ibmursed in the words.
and then you long for the acceptance of your mother, father, brother: their words of praise, like mine, cherished but disbelieved.
what of it? one must live for something.
you live for praise.
i live for love.

the english boy’s resurfaced. just like i predicted, him and the girl broke up. now, he is moving on. moving on me, maybe, but i reckon just moving on to the world. today, he approached me three times. and every time, i bat away his advances with a smile on my face. why should i contemplate burning for him if i am the candle of your life?

too many lives, too many stories and there will be no more parafin, no more wax, no more light. i am aware of that.
i lived through life before you. 

now i know it’s enough to burn for you so let S burn for me.
and let the whole world ignite for me. for this love, this kiss, as it opens its bud of sunshine every morning on your lips.

67. just alive

how is it that i still haven’t learnt to recieve compliments? years gone by and i’m still the ugly duckling waiting to become the swan. i’m told i’m there, but how can i believe my luck? nobody’s born lucky enough to have it all.

on friday we were at the first party either of us have been to in ages.
it was a success.
my nude dress, hair let loose on the wind and glittering stilettos, yes i was there. and you couldn’t stop staring. i had a ball: i danced and danced all night. jamming. grinding. skanking. crude is better than not at all. and it was a hit. i danced with guys and girls alike. 
i danced with you too, but that was more intimate, more reserved.

an hour before midnight, not even tipsy, i sat by your side, drinking. i was not exhaused, just alive. and a boy approached us. almost everyone there knew we were together.
he didn’t. he told me you look goregeous and you’re the hottest girl at the party and smiling politely i froze inside.

me?
gorgeous? … me?

he continued: i suppose this is your boyfriend? i retorted yes, without hesitation. YES. and then, i asked him to dance. he was awkward, kept saying you’d probably be better at dancing than him. i told him he danced well. then one of your friends came and talked to me. the boy slid away.

at the end of the night i saw him again. i said a few polite comments about the night and then, as i saw a vaquishing look in his eyes, we were gone.
i – the cinderella, you – my prince.

65. no puns or pokerfaces, just sordid fantasies of everyone involved

i don’t like things when they get too serious. then all the fun is gone and we are left with feelings that are solidified into blocks of ice no burning passion could ever melt. it’s like having too much of a good thing and trembling over it. we don’t need it and there’s no use to being scared of loneliness. it’s everpresent. 
estamos todos solos.

and darling, i don’t want to hear the truth. just laying in your arms, in your pool of warmth, that is enough.
mi corazon, mi corazon
no me digas la verdad.

you say you are fragile. have you seen me falling to pieces like meteorite crashing into the earth’s atmosphere?
you are scared of my abundance. you fell in love with it remeber?
and you tell me not to change, no, you can do whatever you want. i trust you. i don’t doubt it or you but those words of yours replay in my mind and i realise: we’ve both been selfish.

selfish in sharing everything but not enough, in loving too much but sparsely, of showing feeling with ardour but without sparks. we’re guilty, amour. and i know it by the look in your eyes when i mention his name. S. snake in the long green grass.
english boy’s anonimity wavered i don’t care for that pursuit any more. it is dull to talk of him now, but S is good.

we see each other every day.
there is no puns or pokerfaces, just sordid fantasies of everyone involved.

44. justifying some sort of betrayal

as if by reading of my past flawed ways, i am rescusitating them again. and i wish this was nothing more than a metaphor, but as metaphors go, this is a pretty literal one.

and so i’ve gotten myself another admirer.
it wasn’t really a choice, but then again, maybe it was, if only subconsciously. still, the fact remains – somewhere between yesterday and today i’ve gotten myself another admirer. the blond clever boy, the replica of the image of my past perfection.

but that was before you

and it was all so innocent, this realisation that yes he was interested, that yes he was looking at me.
but even in the realms of innocence, darkness resides. me and him shared this moment today and it was all so goddamn innocent.
but it didn’t feel so innocent at all.
just a momentary smile shared, his presence next to me continuous for two hours, maybe three, but it felt like we segragated ourselves from the rest of the group voluntaily, clawing back privacy.

privacy?

why do i want privacy with him when i’ve got you? why was i toying with you when i had no right to? 
when i am yours.
and so it goes.

and what’s worse is, he doesn’t know. doesn’t know about you. 

.

sometimes i wonder why i do it all, this inticate web of people cumulating at the heart of me. shareholders in the bank of my love. and it’s all fair: the more you invest, the more you get back, yet logic is not there. flawed reasoning.
flawed. 

but you protest so little and allow me so damn much. you’re scared i’ll run and so am i, my love. that’s why i justify my every word, my every action, my every momentary lapse into darkness.

and we both know i’m justifying some sort of betrayal.
but we daren’t say a thing.