Tag Archives: lived

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.

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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.

61. see if i float

maybe i’m not the girl i thought i was. everyone i love along my way tells me so.

today was one of those days. i blurted out i’m in love with you and, cue the lights, i think i meant it.
it took me by surprise. i never said those words before. to me, they were more foreign than our first kiss, for yes, i loved, but loving is easy. apart from the times when it’s hard.

in love is more than love. it’s a choice. 

and it might have been the postcoital slur or a byproduct of nights where sleep is a distant dream undreamt, but i don’t think it was.
so tell me, why is it so difficult to believe that i have found peace at last?
maybe because i’m not so sure i have. when i called my best friend today and told her of the incident, all i heard on the other end of the line were shocked squeals and laughing congratulations.
she told me she was happy for me. she also said she didn’t expect it in a million years.
and i realised i’ve lived two lives all along. one – where i dream of convention and the other, the free, liberated me, – the one with which i face the world.

but words are words. did i mean it and then, what does it mean? are we forever is this the end or the beginning or the pause?
who knows.
i’m tired of being scared. drag me into the deep end. see if i float.

49. and to think i used to call him mine

if he ever tried to retrace his steps, Y would still be here. there’s only so many lives a man can lead. whilst i lived out my three, not quite a cat but near enough the slinky nine, he could barely grasp onto one.

so here we are again. and he won’t admit that he was wrong to have jilted me at my elusive altar and though i’m not bitter, i still think it should have been me to have waved the first goodbye. i was never the taker for seconds.
now we speak for barely more than seconds.

and we had a conversation today. somehow i manipulated minutes out of him when he claimed to have none. and he wants me to call on a weekend. and he listened to my poetry of loving women and war poets. it’s been a while. but i’ll let him live his life. that one life he holds onto like a raft in a burly sea.
those sort of lives were never meant for me: i like mine long and luscious, like sweltering summer days.

and when i read him my lines, he stopped talking altogether, pondering, wondering, what it was that i meant, knowing it concerned him but not knowing how.

and to think i used to call him mine.