Mine

 

It’s like a hitch, when your breath gets caught in between the spaces of your ribs, as it swings up and down. Air trapped between the white fences of the bones in your chest like tornadoes in little pools wisping in air pockets.

 

Badum. Badum badum.

 

Heart racing, pressing against your skin marking, denting, carving its shape against your sternum. How did it get this far? When did this all start? What happened?

 

Badum. Badum badum

How did it get this far? – Caution to the wind, an abrupt whim to take calls.

When did this all start? – The moment light shyly shined through your curtains, and you hadn’t noticed time go by as you both chattered on.

What happened? -  A witty dance of the minds and a wonderful meeting of the souls.

Badum. Badum badum

Tousled hair, creased forehead, the slight downward tilt of his eyes folded between his upturned cheeks. Slightly parted mouth, doe-filled eyes and a sniffling nose, breathing hard between each heartbeat. A slow shuddering grunt and snort between little intakes of air.

Badum. Badum badum

Fast asleep one can only marvel at the view.

In him, you see a cheeky boy, quick witted and joyful. In him, there is a rambunctious teenager, full of passion and energy to take on the world. In him, you see a man, tender and careful. In him, you see a jaded romantic, cautiously sweet and giving.

Badum. Badum badum

 

What a paradox he is.

How beautiful he is.

How wonderful he is-

Badum. Badum badum

 

-        Mine.

Dear Mr Sandman

Dear mr sandman,

How are you?

It's been a while since you've visited me. You seem to be avoiding me. Are you holding back? or has it gone missing? Where have you been? where are your dreams that you share so willingly-

                -of green grass prints on skirts, of easy laughter hanging at the edge of lips, of honest smiles warm to the bone-

                                - Oh how, I miss you so dear. One day, abruptly, it feels you've decided to just be gone. You were once my muse, an amusing light dancing across shadow panes.  Come back, and show me again your bright colours sandman.

Sincereley,

Your friend. 

---

Dear Mr sandman,

You're still yet to visit me. I'm waiting patiently. Night after night, and still you do not come. Are you injured? or are you in pain? It doesn't matter what form you come. I'll accept you with open arms.  come as a dream or a nightmare-

    -of gasps, and sharp pain, running through endless corridors and a sense of relief from the realisation of  reality and the dangers that were never really there-

                                                    -do come visit. It's been too long, old friend. It's getting a bit lonesome without you here. 

My breath is my only companion at night nowadays.

Yours,

Your Friend.

--- 

Dear Mr Sandman, 

Please do darken my doorway. Let your shadow loom over my bedside table, bear your teeth at me, spit brittle and bone, bite, tear and chew at my hide. Show me your darkest sides, and I'll show you mine-

    -of cold metal dancing across dense flesh, of the sharp pinch of life that follows quickly, of the smothering weight upon a soul, of the chilly clear voices that rises above the murky waters of ones mind-

                    -I swear you won't be alone. We're the same you and I, unmoored sailors floating through murky waters. Let us share our oars and paddle, take turns fighting the dark tides-

                                                                            - If I asked you to end everything for me? would you?

Please,

Your friend.

 

Ruthlessness is a trait

that sees point A to B with clarity

and the conviction and strength to make it just so.

years

 of patience, pain and care

of toil, compromises and sitting by the sidelines

 

It is the cold hard perseverance of loyalty

of unwavering faith, complete trust and all that fairy dust,

blindly following, deafly singing to a tune set to the same track,

                                                                                                                                                                                                   Like a parched beggar roaming the dessert

 Who has seen an oases from far, deftly making way

past course sand and harsh dry winds grating the skin, searching-

 

I would have travelled to the ends of the earth,

past the solace of conformity and being

scatter all the cards that I hold

 

For the tender touch of your lips,

The lingering feeling of your fingers between mine,

The steady beat of your heart-

and I would have put everything on the line,

bleed like a cattle on a table

pour myself, trusting you with the incision

Thud, thud, thudding against the ribcage,

the lullaby of the heart to calm the twisted soul

the balm to the scars marred by darkness untold

 

and I would have burned the world for you,

Strike a match, light it up, watch it as it burn burn burn,

down to ashes to the ground,

                                                                       and maybe I did-

                                                                                                        

holding on to all the burnt corpses on the ground.

How do you forget..

It is pathetic, isn't it... 

that I still write about you.

warped up scribbles on pieces of paper, choruses of words stringed together, phrases that punctuate the air of consciousness. -

that I still ponder about you

that, my thoughts are words, comprised of memories, intertwining scenes,

bringing to life all the have-been, would-have-been, and should-have-been, 

that I still long for you

that, my breath, my thought, my heart,

yearns, breaks,  everyday at the thought of every passing day

without you.

that I still want you.

                                                                        

It is an interesting feat to have the room's attention
where most eyes are stuck still watching the moment
stilled air surrounding the silence enveloping the room whole:

an awaited breath balancing on the spinning top,
the gentle gasp escaping through chapped lips,
and the silent slip of water cutting across the face.

a quick rapport and a nod,

fasten back the sheepish smile with the silly reason,

hold it in and let it go. 

Love is not Transactional

I remember reading several posts saying, love someone the way you love them. Saying that you should receive what you give, that this was self-love.

and for a while I was okay with that. That it made sense.

Till one day it didn't.

Treating love like a quid pro quo, started feeling like a measurement, a transaction.

Demanding, Expecting and Limited.

Suddenly, loving some one was a requirement for 50/50. as in I do this, you have to do this. If I give you this, you must give me this.

and it was like.. well for a better way to say, a degradory term for what love meant for me.

(Not saying loving yourself is bad. just saying expecting people to love the same or be in a relationship in the same way is really a cookie-cutter approach)

Love for me shouldnt be a transaction. It's without a pricetag and without expectation. Its the ability to love you for all that person is and will. Loving someone you see and understand.

So I'm going to ignore all that transactional talk. or atleast damn try.

So when I love, I'm not gonna take a price tag. Or look at the scale.  It shouldn't be a 50/50 thing. It's more like a full on 'here's my heart. I'll wait for yours' thing. it's a "I'm gonna go and cross oceans tor you". a love with no cost or regrets.

I'll try.

The flex

It's been months, you think,
you just wanted a night out,
applied the appropriate
'can I go out on friday'
days ahead.

It was approved
was.

Change of minds,
at the last minute,
"cancel it."
authoritative and demanding

short and sharp.
dismissive.

So you do, "okay"
it isn't enough
it leads to raised voices
the question on priorities

it's your fault
it always is.

so fuck off, fuck up and fuck the fuck away.
you think you'll fuck off a cliff now

and maybe you'll finally be free.