Tag Archives: ending

yes, i remember

yes, i remember
the blue sky with no horizon,
the trampled road we trod though
one april morning following another.
and the time was not stopping
but starting anew:
in me and in you,
even in those black eyes and hands
which longed for the other on these marshes.
we feared no ending: it would not come; not to us
who knew of life lived simply,
of lukewarm soup and truth before bedtime.
yes, i remember
and it will be alright.


43. and the glass slipper never shatters

our whole life is a mess of those fridays. we know them so well. the fridays when we go somewhere and one of us, at some point, any point at all, ends up feeling miserable.

i’m no magician, my love. can’t turn grey into a million of colours, can barely turn grey at all. but together we almost manage, the shade changing from darkness to light, from dawn to night.
friday was nothing more than that, you must understand. a sort of middle ground for all our ghosts to come out. and mine did. X was there, as was his new love interest, or rather his soon-to-be ex-love-interest.
she goes through men faster than i go through lingerie and yes, we know her. she catches our train sometimes and don’t you just love the way she talks of her life so freely? i never could quite muster that attitude. you know the one: where casual sex is just another bad habit she really must give up; where a ciggie on the sly hasn’t hurt anyone and two-timing is merely a way to make two people happy at the same time.
but no, i do exaggerate.

still, do not think me bitter for i am not. not at all. and it only seems so because i’d rather people see a tint of jealousy in me than see nothing at all.

and you must remember your promise: you said you won’t get upset at such occasions. 
and when the past runs before your retinas again, scanning for weakness, don’t be too quick to give up on our happy ending, where cinderella meets her prince charming.

and the glass slipper never shatters.

36. and jokes don’t count

we all want a fairytale, don’t we?
a prince, a castle, a fairy godmother and a happy ending.

us, girls, seem to be born with this idea that one day, a prince will find us. yes, he will definitely find us and sweep us off our feet. it’s not a collective motion either – my prince will not be her prince; if fact, her prince will be not much of a prince at all.
each girl will get her own version of perfection, but my perfection will be the perfection, is what we think.

you nearly asked me out this thursday. exactly two months since we first started on this journey, on this path to love and need and yearning.
it was the first of the month, the first of april – april fool’s day, no less – the and somehow it felt that if you asked me then, it’d be a joke. and jokes don’t count.
i couldn’t settle for the flawed perfection, non. it had to be my way or the highway. it always does.

so give me a fairytale, mon coeur. show me the the world through the rose-tinted glasses and whisk me off to the castle i’ve dreamed off since i was a little girl.

it’s easter after all.

7. if only for a little while

i wonder if i’ve gone crazy in the last couple of months, assuming that everyone but me is wrong, at least a little wrong in their perception of life. maybe it was i who was wrong, who pushed people to the brink, making them close up like a venus trap. then again, maybe it was them. hey, who knows. all i know is, things seem so much different these days.

take X for example.

called him today – we’re going ice-skating tomorrow you see. i wasn’t going to mourn your going away by sitting at home thinking of how much fun you must be having listening to all those people talking in a language so much more fluid than mine, with much sexier accents than mine, their much sharper features than mine making you fall in love with them.

so yes, as i was saying… i called him up just now, a little while ago. we have just finished the conversation in fact. didn’t expect much from that phone call really. you know how it is – no substance, pauses stretching into what seems like eternity, that sort of stuff. but that wasn’t it. that wasn’t it at all. he talked so well, so freely, as if he wasn’t the boy i used to know at all. as if he wasn’t the reason i turned to you for conversation and understanding in the first place. as if he changed. as if i changed him. 

it’s strange, you know, i can almost picture a happy ending with him.
not quite bliss, but something close.
mutual awareness of the world around us.
yes, i can see it all – the galleries, the parties, even the nights in. i couldn’t see that there before. maybe because i didn’t believe.
but what changed?

so we talked for an hour, me and him. it wasn’t forced as usual, it wasn’t difficult on either party. it was comforting. 
with you gone, if only for a little while, i know i can now put the effort into me and him. there were times i thought i could avoid it. there were times i resented him for even being there, but he cares. as do you of course, but you won’t be there, so your eyes won’t have to witness my betrayal.

enjoy your trip to france, boy.

au revoir!
if only for a little while