what moved me yesterday was not the explosion after explosion in the sky, nor the coldness enveloping us in a tightly huddled mass of warm bodies. it was the way you looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. or the last time. and i don’t know how much truth there is in the world, but so long you keep looking at me like that, my heart will long for yours.
yesterday was an annivesary in ways. 7 months, but more than that.
i was with X then, and with Y to an extent, but that night, a year ago, you held my hand in yours, warming it, holding me gently under the fireworks and the stars. a friend and no more, keeping me warm placidly yet wanting me wholly.
now i’m yours solely.
please burn for me still.
this was the poem i wrote for you a year ago. and now you know.
a drizzle of rain warms me up
like your hands on mine, polishing the silver
the ground not yet ready to settle, the sky – to erupt
and we are languishing in the middle
of the broken
reverie
I conceived with someone else
smiling in knowing
you’d carry my life on your shoulders if I let you
bequeathing me your last breath as a parting present
but how could I ever justify your love or lust
as we stand there under the unremitting gaze of stars
almost like an audience awaiting the typical finale
my heart so suddenly awake
wanting to take
all that you offer, grab it in handfuls
frigid hands clasping yours with the ferocity
that would make you bleed and leave crescent shapes
as a memory of my need
living signature of my greed
instead I leave you with a seed
of hope.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged after, ago, all, almost, annivesary, are, at, audience, awaiting, awake, bequathe, bleed, bodies, breath, broken, burn, carry, clasp, coldness, concieve, could, crescent, drizzle, else, envelop, erupt, ever, explosion, extent, ferocity, finale, fireworks, first, for, friend, frigid, gaze, gently, grab, greed, ground, hand, handfuls, hands, heart, held, holding, hope, how, huddle, instead, is, it, justify, keep, know, languishing, last, leave, let, life, like, living, long, look, looking, love, lust, make, mass, me, memory, middle, months, more, move, moved, much, my, need, night, nor, not, now, of, offer, parting, placidly, please, poem, poems, poetry, polishing, present, rain, ready, reverie, seed, seeing, settle, shapes, shoulders, signature, silver, sky, smiling, solely, someone, stand, stars, still, suddenly, take, that, then, there, tightly, time, truth, typical, under, unremitting, up, want, warm, warming, was, way, ways, we, what, wholly, with, world, would, x, y, year, yesterday, yet, you, your, yours
it balances out. it always does.
some call it karma. we call it god.
no ifs. no buts. no forevers.
just stop and listen to our song.
yes, any song.
can you hear my voice resonate?
you should know i wouldn’t run to hate
if love’s all i’ve ever known
and this life i’ve sewn
is mine to splash acetone on.
no one will stop me.
no one knows how.
—————————————–
it was such a momentous day today. for the first time ever i touched the heights those older and wiser often talk about. seventh heaven, where flesh trembles, leaving eyes in a haze.
but something had to ruin it all. and maybe you can fight against the darkness, but in any case, you didn’t. they win.
no matter: i don’t need them.
just the memory of today is enough.
and the irony isn’t lost on me.
6 months since my goodbye to X.
well done to me.
Posted in excerpts
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i only stop when i know i’ve had enough.
i guess i haven’t had my fill just yet.
you’ve gone to france, as you always do. your second life, i call it, but i dont blame you: that’s what a lifetime of living with parents who are teachers does to you. four weeks this time; it’ll be five the next or six, or whatever. but i’ve stopped counting the days. i learnt to live without salting my wounds.
Y went camping with his blonde, though she’s not blonde now but rather a seductive red. they’ve been together months now. it’ll be a year soon. october, i think.
he was meant to come back yesterday, but his phone was off. i called him twice. twice is always my limit.
i know i’ll call him again.
X is just an ex. we speak sporadically on msn and i’ve not been on the computer for days. i just couldn’t face the lonely screen staring in my face. i wanted physical contact, the sound of someone’s, anyone’s voice reverbrating in my eardrums.
and i read books. sartre, “streetcar named desire” and anais nin with her erotica. that put me down, but then, i wanted to be put down. sometimes there comes a point in our lives when we can no longer continue to believe in what we are believing until we see what else there is to see.
then there was Z. another reunion. he called me just now. for no reason. he didn’t say so, but then he rarely says a lot. he’s coming back from wales today. he was away for a week, but what more is there to it? it was another failed lesson in love for him, but i know i’m not the one to teach him.
in the end of all ends, i love you.
and i met your ex too on the days. that was fun. hurt me like crazy but it had to be done.
somewhere in between “the spy in the house of love” and “the age of reason”, i’d lost my wits. literature has a way of doing that to you.
i needed to see her.
i needed to feel the arterial spray of your past on my face.
let her do her worst i thought and damn, she tried her best.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged again, age, always, anais nin, another, anyone, arterial spray, away, back, been, believe, best, between, blame, blonde, books, call, camp, camping, come, computer, contact, counting, crazy, days, do, doing, done, down, eardrums, end, ends, enough, ex, face, failed, feel, fill, five, for, four, france, fun, gonef, guess, had, haven't, him, his, house, hurt, it, just, know, learnt, lesson, life, lifetime, limit, literature, live, lives, living, lonely, lost, lot, love, meant, met, months, more, msn, named desire, needed, next, no, not, now, october, of, off, only, parents, past, phone, physical, point, put, rarely, rather, read, reason, red, reunion, reverbrating, salting, sartre, says, screen, second, seductive, see, six, someone, sometimes, somewhere, soon, sound, speak, sporadically, spy, staring, stop, stopped, streetcar, teach, teachers, think, this, though, time, today, together, tried, twice, until, voice, wales, want, way, week, weeks, went, whatever, when, without, wits, worst, wounds, x, y, year, yesterday, yet, you, z
can you tell me, why de ja vu haunts me like a predator stalking its only surviving prey? the de ja vu, embossed with its frenchness. just like you. just like those kisses you plant on my lips, their buds opening in the middle of the darkest nights, as i wake in cold sweat, clammy hands turning on the lights to chase the demons away.
and i realise, that love is french, italian, dominican. but more than that, it’s foreign to all of us. it’s language – mysterious hum in the early-morning air, it’s lands – unbounded by borders, it’s people waking up every morning, just like the rest of us, seductive scent of coffee in their kitchens, shatter of broken cups imprinting its echo on the windows.
and when i think of love, i think of the mess that coffee would make, drops collecting, puddle spreading with every beat of the heart. my mess.
and it doesnt touch you. you’re not really here. not entirely.
and love doesn’t cut you with its broken china or stain your slippers with instant coffee, fresh those marble tiles.
does it touch you at all?
…
it’s been three months now and i’ve nothing to tell me that i’m yours, only a herbarium of those flowers you bought me the day my mother went to the zoo with my little sister in tow.
only a dead plant, in an envelope somewhere, next to Y’s unopened loveletters and the note that X kissed so that a part of him may remain with me forever, or whatever his reasoning was.
and at night, in somebody’s kitchen, in a land far away, my heartbeat keeps the coffee flowing.
Posted in chapters of my life
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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.
Posted in chapters of my life
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glittering soot on her eyelashes 