A nostalgic longing to hold a chunk of lost time ushered whispers into long hours of loud love. Our blameworthy broken promises of an evening out, forlorn anniversaries and flirtatious glances of infidelity thrown for granted were caught and brushed off for a silent midday falling apart. When you grow tired of falling back to save love, grief files your tongue, storms don't stop you from slamming the door shut and barging out and darkness seldom feels like another erratic expression poets ink in metaphors. Forgetting to swim in the waters you've made oceans from drowned me in a myriad of night terrors.
Your empty eyes melted to no touch, your fluttering eyelashes stole courage from the ocean bed to remain unwaveringly cold, in the dark you couldn't lie no more letting the shades you wore to drift away with the setting sun. As you leaned over the top rails of your balcony with a fag in between your lips, I wondered if another would be lit and then one more. Your smeared mascara has tales of its own, each one screaming out the words you feared to utter to another soul. Your nails looked polished with coal and trimmed to scrape off unfettered charm, your delicate wrists hiding beneath your sleeves still lacked the credence to be flaunted to the world. The wind blew on your tears, as it consoled you I saw the lust bites that you wore on your collarbone. The sterling silver chain swirled around your neck, a few inches away from your tucked away heart, it homed a tiny crescent moon that resembled the smile you've lost. You don't need someone to share your pain or hear you cry, you've learned to put on a strong face all on your own. You don't need a person to hold you close, kiss you softly on your scars and caress the bruises on your waist, you found out it's easier to jump from one to the next.
Bridges collapsed, armies fell, the sky turned crimson purple as nightcrawlers dragged away whisperers into suicide forests where death was the least agonizing torture. I hastened into open ranches, snowy terrains and into the arms of wildfires, brushing off nature's wrath and stumbling closer into hell's jaws. They found me shivering, bleeding, rotting and hanging on to my last breaths in a jet black sea cave pleasing my stomach growls with half handfuls of salt and rock dirt. I was forced to embrace the mayhem under the daylight, I sat through it days and nights, I suffered through it for long hours faking an assuring smile and nodding as a response to stick figures donning teal and white. They let me go into the world, plastic cuboid shapes commanded a herd of insanity doped leaches to feed off on each other's blood. All it would take is a perfect slit, ear to ear, right across the neck to completely silence them and feel nothing at all for one last time. The thought just ran in circles in my clustered mind, knocking down the focal points of tolerance and restraint.
Stitches across my neck, hands and legs strapped to a wooden chair, weights dangling over my shoulders and nail holes adorned my feet under a white light as he walked up to me with a notepad in hand and a bored look dancing on his wrinkles.
Do you want to live? Do I look like I do? Do you want to die? Do you need to ask?
My whimpers were his answers, answers he didn't take to his heart, he scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to them. They took me to the streets, jolted me around town, clawed my chest and shoved pills down my throat.
During the nights we ran through the alleys, dodging every stranger on the way. Sneaking into a nightclub as an escape from the voices ringing in our heads. We held hands and caressed our lifelines that didn't run long.The live music played quite loud in the background and drunk dancers swayed on their toes through the tipsy night.
One too many shots of grey goose down your throat dug thunder from the pit of your stomach. You are a soul that knows pain, deep enough to ignite another. The songs sound like they were written for you on a late chilly winter night in the middle of December.
A striking blow on my nape shoved me onto the stage with the world's eyes glued on me. You were right there in the front row, cheering and mouthing unscripted tales. I stood there motionless with no ounce of breath enough to utter a word.
It felt like the world came crashing down and I was in the middle of a burning hell. And you were staring, with the same glint in your eye that broke the heaven I knew.
Everyone and everything faded, I was never too far away from you. The limits I went and the oceans I swam were nothing to you, call it grunt work but it went in vain. You became my worst fear and looking into your eyes burned my very own.
May it be in a bar, on a stage, near the shore, atop of a mountain or right now in front of my mirror, you were never beside but inside me. What I held and feared will always be lingering in my chest. Dug a hole to bury my empty memories and the uneasiness proved to me of how I was uncomfortable in my own body.
Death slithers through these iodoform snogged corridors, knocking on doors which have prayers and hopes keeping them shut. Will it choose to embrace a 15 year old who slit her wrists giving up to depression or a half a century old man who wants to spend a few more summers in this cold world?
The heavens smirk at this hellhole, perhaps it was just a pity smile that lacked courage to bless. Pain isn't confined, it's contagious and no number of painkillers can heal an invisible wound that gnaws through flesh and eats up the bones.
Last night's Rye whiskey swirls around your half-cut fingers, intoxicating the crumbs of bones you are to forget how madly in love you were.
The morning after drew you closer to the hell you've oddly found comfort in. The silent cries of melancholy gambled with the insanely indestructible pain growing from the wayward weeds of hope in your veins.
Reality brings you down to your knees, striking you in the gut and lying in a puddle of broken trust you realised you can never see that sanguine smile on her face again.
She walked behind you, following your footprints in the sand. Digging way deep into past scars and judging too quick what she saw. Frazzled, she wanted to walk past you.
The tender tremors of air with their gentle touch and voiceless self have arrived to play with my undone hair tucked underneath my trapper hat. The touch is gentle and lovely but stilted, even the zephyr knows I'm no one else's to touch or feel but his. It has started getting cold here and I might need another layer of blanket, blanket on blanket hung together to keep my body warm. It's dark, everywhere and I feel like I'm the sky, the night sky but not a beautiful one, for there's no star in sight and my perishable huge expanse looks frail and shady. I'm waiting for him to lay his pair of five toed flesh on the ground and head to the balcony and arrest me in his eyes with all the subtlety of a shaft of light cutting my raven veil open. He's on earth but not earthly, he's given me colours which no heavenly body in the history of the universe could've given even to that enormous sky.
//the zephyr knows well not to tresspass the locks of her hair where my winds are settled. the brook that spirals down her hair has tasted my waters and is tainted with my blood. winter has been an enemy from the start but the wool I've placed on her chest keeps its arms away from my muse. the warmth gradually begins to rise when i lay down beside her as the night commences. she's more beautiful than the thousand splendid skies we've both seen, and the stars that are missing from the night are gathered on her cheeks. that's where they fall when lovers wish upon them. im just a simple earthling but she sees me as something heavenly, maybe coz my eyes reflect her own image when she looks at me. //
That distinguished gentleman, when he lies in my bed and rests his head on my chest with his hand wrapping around my waist brings the moment where I wish so bad to have some control over time. Moments spent with him are the only moments when I'm at peace. It sometimes feels that there are no words, no languages to speak, we're mute often and in such times the labellum he owns smiles for me while my eyes, shoo-in to have that gleaming comet look do their job and our heartbeats in the company of his warm breaths sit as liaison between us. The breaths, when they travel down the layer of my clothing to my breast, make me stretch my dainty hand to the scales of his cheek where my thumb makes gentle strokes as i close his eyes.
//time is another adversary of ours, as it slices through the moments we spend in each other's presence. it begins to slither at a higher pace when we start to clasp onto the smiles that fly around from each other's faces. peace arrives only in her presence, and when she's closer, the air remains still, she is what i call serenity and i am always in the dire need of it. words are nothing but emotions that have found wings, and when our eyes speak fluently, they are not needed here to begin with. and when we feel that we've conversed enough for the day, she shuts my eyes close with the slightest of touches from her thumb and lays me to rest. but she herself doesn't go to sleep, she spends the rest of the night staying awake gazing at my face.//
I would cut my wings to see him fly and lend him all of the share of my joy if I found a way to, for I pine around life and dare to breathe just to have another day to see him smile. I'm not making up any wild flattering love story but just layering up my feelings and dreams with the weight of my words that aren't even anything close to describing the kind of love I have for him.
//the wings she's given me have strength inscribed in each feather and i feel my senses of flight coming into motion but my sky is where her feet lays. it's 2 feet above the ground where her bed is and that is where i intend to float before diving into it. we're not faltering a case of an overhyped love story by any means but just cementing our true and true tale with the might of our words that aren't even close to describing the kind of love we have for each other//