breaking up is never easy i know, but i have to go – the abba song plays on a loop in my head, ringing in my ears.
is it time to call it quits?
count the losses and move on?
i don’t know. we’re just about to move in together. i know, wow! two weeks til we finally land in each other’s pocket. and i’ve been waiting for this. and you don’t care. you can’t even be bothered to buy the plates when i’ve bought all the cutlery, the knives, the pots and pans.
i think back on us and wonder if you ever cared. was there something always niggling in the back there?
three years five months. a long time.
how many girls could you have fucked in that time begs the question. how many more women like the french madame would have offered to suck you off if you’d been single? mind you, it clearly didn’t stop her. approaching you in your lunch break day after day, a preying mantis, with luscious lips and killer eyes (imagination, my darling, is no friend of mine). she’d have seduced you in no time. you said yourself you would have done it, had i not been in the way waiting for you back in london, withering away like a flower in the desert.
for what are all the men in the world if i can’t have you?
a common misconception of women in love.
i wonder if the air is clearer now, when i don’t love you in the same way i did. the heart stops still. it waits for you, as we continue to flitter the best years of our lives on each other.
you have this way of saying everything
with lips unparted
you burn without giving out heat
or smouldering at fingertips the way i do –>
there is no flicker in your eyes
or telltale signs;
there is no heavy breathing,
no tremors running down the spine
and when one touches you, they need no grounding.
you are not live.
that’s why you know just how to feel
the scattered mounds of sand under my skin,
smoothing out each grain
i’m not the same.
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
Tagged about, aethetics, against, all, are, attached, barely, book, breeze, brings, brushing, burning, but, can't, care, change, colour, consuming, contour, cradle, deep, erotica, every, eyes, feel, feeling, felt, fire, fly, form, from, funny, gently, got, hair, hands, heart, hide, him, hold, how, incarnate, it, itself, know, last, learn, like, lines, little, live, love, loving, makes, matter, me, mild, more, my, nape, neck, need, never, no, northerly, not, nothing, now, of, often, one, only, pain, palms, patience, piece, pores, prince, prose, ray, read, rejection, response, roses, s, sand, sandalwood, scab, see, seem, seemed, sense, sensual, seperate, shall, silence, silent, simple, skin, sleep, sleeping, slight, slumber, soft, sorry, straight, strangely, summer, sun, sunshine, taken, tangling, tanned, tenderness, that, think, thorny, through, to, told, too, true, try, urge, wants, warm, warmth, ways, we, well, were, when, which, wind, with, within, without, world, would, wrote, you, your
some days i realise
they wouldn’t be worth living
if i didn’t have you
pounding in my heart.
it sounds cliché,
somehow outdated, to say this here
and to say this now. almost
a long-distance call to atlanta
where skies flow like whisky down the throat,
and people, morning sunshine,
before receiver clicks in the ear
with mourning beep foreshadowing the silence
with a million shards of sounds
running like a movie in my eyes.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged almost, and, atlanta, be, beach, before, call, cliche, click, days, distance, down, ear, eyes, flow, foreshadow, have, heart, here, if, like, live, living, long, million, morning, mourn, mourning, movie, my, now, outdated, people, poems, poetry, pound, realise, reciever, run, running, say, shards, silence, skies, some, sounds, storm, sunshine, they, throat, where, whisky, with, worth, wouldn't