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  • sunshower_ 10w

    Woolgathering on the clouds

    We are in the ocean of love crippled with the fear of drowning and desiring to taste the waters expecting it to be our favourite drink, not knowing everyone tastes it different.

    Some tightly clutching paper boats of their childhoods against their bosoms, some blindfolded after the trauma of abusive relationship of their parents , some with their hands tied, and some holding hands of their co-passenger and some deliberately jumping into the waves and some waiting eternally for their dream lover to arrive in yachts and swim them away.

    The ebbs and tides raft two lovers but sometimes they become the reason to break them apart.

    Like half crumpled paper and a fistful of mayhem of undone beliefs: love unfolds from a dull constellation of unaligned fate and still typing keyboard into a universe of backspaced confessions and 'happily ever after' endings.

    The soft haunting voice of Phoebe Bridgers sings you to a melancholic sleep and I lay awake reading Plath's bell jar and staring at Van Gogh's starry night; searching for Woolf's lighthouse; the background plays Hemingway's speech and in my dreams I kill myself like I do everytime, only to wake up.

    Why do writers kill themselves?
    Perhaps only time shall show me.

    Timid wind blows your hair from your smile, and we both crouch laughing our hearts out, unaware of the slithering time making its way towards us, past the memories, nature plays a nostalgic classic jazz blended with pop for us to dance our heads on each other's shoulders against the soft moonlight falling on each other's face.

    Dementia is way too hard too deal with, it'll be hard but I promise to stay even if our memories disappear and love leaves our home.

    Like falling leaves on a windy days, our memories are slipping from the webspace of our hards against the bare ground, filled with lava, like that from our childhood games.

    Longing and loneliness swing like a pendulum & an introspective violin piece; we never realised: love was never really the ocean, it wasn't just limited the ocean, but the whole shorelines, skylines subtly infuriating sometimes setting the clouds aflame with her hues, and sometimes crying aloud reminiscing over sacred vow she made to the land that got submerged beneath the mighty oceans like a forgotten secret; the changing seasons; stories that we shared— it wasn't limited to romantic partners and romanticising existence, but the little joy in ordinary things which makes us extraordinary; jokes and laughs and food that you share, the way you make someone smile, laying on the grass, walking barefoot, writing poems, complimenting a random stranger, confessing things you were too afraid to, the whole universe, including your existential crisis and not wanting to exist anymore, you existing, crying for your loved ones, remembering them through memories and stories.

    Let me stay for a little while and not write any poems,
    let me gaze at you,
    a masterpiece in making,
    save me not because you're the catastrophe I've been waiting for my entire life and
    the one I'll like to trade my life for.

    - Sunshower
    18 November '21

    P.S. after long trying my hand at long proses.
    P.P.S - TS reference

    #start #lonelyc #littlewhile #like

    @surefire @poeticgirl

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    "There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you'd better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you'll never understand what it's saying."

    Sarah Dessen, Just Listen