it’s funny, this. i started a post on the 19th of october and never finished it. sometimes i do that. sometimes the words are jumbled in all sorts of ways and i just can’t them to make sense.
19th of october: viktor’s birthday. i always wrote a story on that day; my form of celebration. but this one went untold.
sometimes i still think about him and wonder if he made me. sometimes i think he did. victor frankenstein created a monster. but that is no more than a parallel.
when you look back to your childhood and remember the way the priest broke the bread during mass, is there not something in it you cherish? the moment of peace, the silence as the bread is broken. for you and me. for us.
i didn’t know you then. you still don’t know me now. but lets plow on – you reap what you sew.”
i remember my thoughts that day. of S and how not too long ago you were him: longing to stand by my side, waiting forever for the imaginary day where i was yours.
and i reminisced on the act of consecration, the way one would when breaking bread and pouring wine. only not of christ. of S.
and that was that.
and this is no more than a parallel.
Posted in chapters of my life
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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
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
Posted in chapters of my life
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blackout before my eyes.
blood, scalpel, heart, darkness. and then my mother’s voice, soothing, recieving, full of love.
i fell softly, straight into the recovery postion, noiselessly, languidly, water flowing downhill, gurlging softly at the impact with the rocks. as if i’m used to this. as if.
and there was drama, panic, shock, laughter even, lab oozing with emotion like a devil sick of sin.
noone would have ever guessed that i would faint: i was strong. a rock. a pillar. nobody’s princess.
but there it was. pig’s heart. or lamb’s. whichever. i cut it open, hands almost firm, quite agile. who knew how i was trembling deep inside? i didn’t scream or flinch, i looked at it from inside out, i smiled and laughed and feigned disgust. i know how to put on an act.
tension released, i fell like a birch leaf in the autumn gust.
standing there passive, watching older, firmer hands cut right through a heart, talking of it, the ventricles, the muscles, the–
that was too much.
no use for me as such.
are you surprised i crumbled or rather that i didn’t crumble straightaway?
whichever one, that’s quite okay.
i came around.
before you know it, i’ll pick the scalpel up again.
Posted in chapters of my life
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