i thought of making another blog, starting a story from scratch, erasing the past i had myself forgotten; but i couldn’t. i couldn’t think of what to call it, couldn’t make my own words, having used yours for so long.
so, still, i write to you, though you are mine. i still write to you for who else could I write to, who else makes my heart slurp up the blood quite so greedily, who else can take the whole of me with one look? if he exists, and doubtless he does, i haven’t found him yet.
you swept me off my feet watching sunrises by my side in the train, gaze lingering to my thighs, lips ready to go for the jugular. you courted me through the snow, waiting for my other loves to die a natural death. you won me, fair and square, because it was i who awakened the predator in you and blood-lust blinkered you. i let you into the darkest part of me and you took me but if you stopped loving me, i would stop loving you. i must admit, there are nights when i wonder what that pain would feel like.
over time, i understood i never meant to be the best, only desired. i’m not ashamed of that – all that we are, all that we have stems from desire. the instinct to conquer is stronger than the instinct to love. you should know that because i don’t miss X and Y. you should know that because i still write. you should know that because once in a while i tell you that i don’t believe in love.
i’m that girl you met all those years ago that told you i was gonna fuck a lotta guys, just different.
easter has vanished overnight
the way a girl who slept in your bed
disappears at sunrise,
with the high heels tucked under one arm
and her simple black dress somehow longer, subtler.
almost a present, you find her earring clasp on the floor
and an impression of her head on your pillow.
you fumble for a memory of her smile, the taste of her lips,
but nothing comes.
your fingers clutch at the flimsy hook of silver.
later, you realise that’s all there is to find.
next year, you see her again, at the same time, in the same place,
dancing with another man.
something compels you to smile at her.
she smiles back.
you fill me
your tongue, your speech, your fingers
go swimming in my veins.
you make me feel
i taste the ocean every night,
the patterns of its seashells
still pressed into my palms
when i fumble for words in the morning.
i blossom like an orchid,
rare and podshaped,
under your gaze.
an open womb inside a girl’s young frame,
you are the love
of this life,
of this night
and the next.
it’s time for answers. or questions. whichever.
a fellow writer inspired me to think about a few. and they started the clock tick-tocking inside my mind: what did a girl like me want anyhow? what is the dream, the true ideal?
1. i’d like a picture of you on my windowsill by my bed: to keep, to hold, to treasure. it will be my reminder that you exist and when i wake up in the middle of the night, wondering if i dreamt up my whole life, i want it there to touch. it’ll be solid in my hands. a relic. and it’ll be in a mosaic picture-frame we’ve yet to buy. in barcelona or in paris (just because i like the way you say it) or in a magic place far away.
2. i’d like to have you on call, running to me whenever i need you there and sometimes just because. you know: for no reason, just because i want to be in your arms where it’s never lonely.
3. and i want you to have eyes for nobody else but me, following me, stalking me, penetrating me anew with every gaze. i want them to ask me for affirmation of my love every morning and i want them to drown me whole, as if they were not eyes but lagoons of clear-blue water in devon, on hot summer afternoon, when all you want is to immerse yourself whole in water .
4. but more than anything, i’d like to know that this is where you want to be: here with me.
5. that will be all.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged about, affirmation, afternoon, all, anew, answers, anyhow, anything, arms, ask, away, barcelona, be, because, bed, blue, but, buy, by, call, clear, clock, devon, did, dream, dreamt, drown, else, ever, every, exist, eyes, far, fellow, few, follow, frame, gazee, girl, hands, have, here, hold, hot, ideal, if, immerse, inside, inspire, it, just, keep, know, lagoons, life, like, lonely, love, magic, me, middle, mind, more, morning, mosaic, my, need, never, night, no, nobody, not, Paris, penetrate, picture, place, questions, reason, relic, reminder, running, say, solid, sometimes, stalking, started, summer, than, that, them, there, they, think, this, tick, time, tock, touch, treasure, true, up, wake, want, water, way, were, what, when, whenever, where, which, whichever, whole, will, windowsill, with, wondering, writer, yet, you, yourself
notes reverbrate in my head, songs drown in their own chords. words on words, words on words.
and i am fear, i am love.
i’ve been found out.
‘i am yours now
so now i don’t ever have to leave
i’ve been found out
so now i’ll never explore’
and i can’t stop thinking, though you’ve given me no reason to. you’ve been a darling, my precipice of love.
it is me, it is i.
i’ve betrayed your honest motifs by wanting more, by being unsure. every other girl would be thankful to never have to leave, but i am i. i can only think of all the lands whose flowers won’t open their buds to me, of all the trees that won’t bloom for me.
i am me and this is i.
i want to come and go, spending every morning in your harbour, every night – under the shine of communal stars.
i’m only tender and i’m only young. i can’t go for days without setting bridges on fire.
imma let it burn.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged all, am, and, be, been, being, betrayed, bloom, bridges, buds, burn, but, can, can't, chords, come, communal, darling, don't, drown, every, explore, fear, fire, flowers, found, girl, give, go, harbour, have, head, honest, i, imma, is, it, lands, leave, let, love, me, more, morning, motifs, my, never, night, no, notes, now, of, on, only, open, other, out, poems, poetry, precipice, reason, reverbrate, setting, shine, song, songs, spend, stars, stop, tender, thankful, the, their, think, thinking, this, though, to, trees, under, unsure, want, whose, without, won't, words, would, young, your, yours
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.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged accept, acceptance, advance, approach, as, aware, away, bat, before, boy, broke, brother, bud, burn, candle, cannot, cherished, child, contemplate, craves, disbelieved, english, enough, every, face, father, for, from, girl, him, his, i, ignite, imbursed, just, kiss, know, let, life, light, lips, live, lived, lives, long, love, many, maybe, me, mine, more, morning, mother, move, must, my, no, now, on, one, open, parafin, praise, predicted, prose, reckon, resurfaced, s, sarcasm, should, smile, something, stories, sunshine, that, their, then, there, this, three, through, time, times, today, too, twinge, wax, what, which, whole, why, with, words, world, yet, you, your