Break the mirror

Broken
heart, and
Broken dreams,
scattered across the floor.

Pieces and remnants of
what could've-
what should have,
lies dead strewn on the moor.

Silly girl, oh silly girl,
break the mirror and never ask for more.

Random Burst of Thought

If I close my eyes now,  and think about it, I feel the sensation bubbling against my eyelids.

there's a build up of feeling, slowly rising, and it's completely dreadful. It's an overwhelming taste of sadness, and longing.

I want you there.

 And I know you want to be there. but you can't.

I know this is for the better, but it does nothing to quell the overwhelming sadness inside of me. I'm sorry.

So if I tear up tomorrow, or cry tonight, it's not cause I'm mad or angry. it's just cause I miss you. and I wanna be with you. I want you to be with me. and I love you, and I know you love me.

just..

it's just cause I'm still learning how to be patient.

Here, But Not Really Here

Tick, Tick, Tick.

Right now, in the early embers of sunlight, she feel afloat.
As finger press on screens, clicking on makeshift keyboards,
she is alive and happy.

In this moment, in this frame of time,
she is completely, exuberantly, fully,
here.

Because He's there.
and the world is now warm, and the air is more crisp,
the view is so much more greener, cleaner, and oh-so-more-beautiful.

Jokes course from neural-digital-neural pathways,
grins and laughs echoing in the chamber of hearts and minds,
a sense of unity and relief, a real show to how they really are:

Together.

but then the clock ticks, ticks, ticks away.
and the presses begin to dwindle, and the keyboards click-less, l-ess, l e s s,
and the moment is gone, the time frame nearing to an end.

time's up, the window's closing in,
and that there'll only be sparse light coming through
the frosted pane

and the air, the world, the view, reverts
to what it has lately been.
glimpses of beauty

and he's there, but not really there,
so she's here, but not really here.

Scribbles

"What happened to you? you're seriously messed up"

Green eyes met brown, as raised eyebrows met with pure innocence. Blonde and brunnete stared at each other, waiting and shocked respectively.

"Jeez, I don't know Carmen, I got steam rolled by a bus what did you expect, a perfectly slim body?"

The brunnete snaps to her acquaintance, now touchy, ever so sensitive. Sarcasm dripping out of each letter, tone as sharp as a knife.

" Not what I mean. You weren't messed up, before. You weren't as abrupt as you are now. Look at you, you look like you're ready to jump off brooklyn bridge!"

The blonde avoides the tantalizing bait for the argument, and instead met with the girl's jaded eyes along with her own cocoa.

" You never knew me, so buzz off, and stop pretending."

The Girl On The Bench.

You see a girl.
she's smiling.
You smile at her.
such a wonderful view.

she smiles.

You smile.

she sits on the park bench
under the mysterious sky
smiling fixedly at the world.

You sit next to her,
and You feel content.
she listens and nods to your words.
You feel glad, someone's there.

This girl on the bench.

She doesn't say much,
except to comfort you.
but then,
it rains.

You run for cover,
under a big tree.
You turn back;

expecting her.

but she's

not there.

she's still on the bench.

You stare,

shrug

and sit.

she's still on the bench.

You can feel the rain pellets,

soar through the leaves

hitting your back, your arms,

anything in there reach.

she's still on the bench.

framed rigidly,

smiling.

The rain thunders on.

You're getting drenched.

You need to get real shelter.

before You get sick.

You don't even spare a glance to the girl

the girl who was still on the bench,

smiling fixedly to the world.

-----------------------------------

A/N: Found this lying in my draft folder, it was dated a few years back, but thought it was a shame to not post.

When you're leaving me, you're the one reassuring me.

I know I've been pushing the boundaries of positivity and optimism lately, with me spewing the 'love solves all' mindset, and that it all comes down to patience and communication.

But truth is, it's still a punch to my gut, whenever I think of you going on that plane, and that I won't be able to see you for a few years. It's the clawing pressure building up against my ribs, that has my eyes water and disgusting snot accumulate all the way through my nasal cavity.

It's like there's something about the moment, when you know someone you care about is going to leave you. even if it's not permanent like death, but oh my god, it just does something to you.

It's done something to me.

I can't even spare a moment to fricken care about anything, about anything at all, but have you lingering in the back of my mind. With practically barely 2 weeks left to go to your impending departure, everything I do each day, now has to atleast come back to thoughts of you.

Are you okay? Will you be okay? How will everything be? How will everything turn out to become?

I'm in love with you. and I trust you. and I oh, so, god, love you, so much.

I'm just deathly terrified.
but you're holding my hand
and that's so right
and yet so wrong.

you're the one leaving, and you're probably scared. but here you are reassuring lil old me.

I don't deserve to have you.

but I'm so glad I do.

In this world, in that world, and in all the rest.

This is for you, the boy with the plaid shirt.

The one with the hesitant awkward grin. The one with the bug-eyed expression.

The boy who hides behind a veil of silence and hesitation. 

You don’t have a lot to say most of the times, often opting to listen. Sliding quirky remarks and subtle jokes in conversations, you have a sense of humour that never fails to amuse me. Scarcely fond to other homo-sapiens, your care for animals (scales and all) shakes me out of reality and straight into fantasy-land. Seeing you so fond and the outright light shining in your eyes, the amount of love right there, oh boy, how blessed I am to have you. 

Let me measure how I love thee. 

From the tip of your cropped hair to your unshaven beard, from the peak of your amused eyebrows to the tip of your tapping fingers, from the upturned collar to the holes of your socks.

Let me count the ways I love you.

As a friend I can rest with, complete with eager eyes and witty rapports,

As a person I can rely on, with non-wavering hands and quiet support,

As a lover that I see myself with, unconventional and silently strong.

Oh how I am in love with you. 

You’re the one that I want, you see. Some people may scoff at me, murmur that I’m being naïve, that no such thing can be said with such certainty. 

But I feel it, in my bones. 

With every laughter, smile and even fights, I feel it in my gut, my bones, heck, even my toes. You’re the one that I ruddy want to be with. And if hell breaks loose, and tear us apart, just know that in all the parallel universes, I’m sure one of my alternate selves is with your alternate self. 

So, really, with that train of thought I’ll always be with you.

Waiting.

It's been a trying first few months, to say the least. From starting a gig as a temporary worker to having hurdles of issues thrown my way, I've been feeling a bit adrift.

Adrift (adj./adv.)
Synonyms: drifting, unmoored, unanchored,
1. Without purposed, direction or guidance.
2. No longer fixed in position.

It's a jarring feeling, having known nothing but a set course, chartered and drawn on the map, and to have the map snatched and taken, crumpled and replaced by another. It's like going from a detailed plan to a scribbled up map by a 3 year old version of yourself. You can generally get the gist of the location, but can't see anything. 

It doesn't help that whenever you think you have it figured out, something new just crops out of nowhere.

For someone who constantly had plans, even contingency plans for these plans, and to have it all proven moot, this was a slap. All my life, I have known where to go, what to pursue, and now standing at this declared precipice, I now stand unmoored.

But then again, that's not really true,

I know where I'm heading. I know the general direction, but I still feel afloat, lacking purpose, lacking real direction because everything is still up in the air. 

and I don't know how I'm gonna get through any of this with all the inconsistent variables, with all this uncertainty. 

but then there really is nothing more to do than to just wait and see.