I’m still hoping that maybe one day I’ll get that drunk text from you saying how much you miss me. Not because I miss you, but because then I’d know that I did mean to you even a fraction of what you meant to me.
real love is not a sole passion or sky
it is bursts of color and wild fire
feeling connected through the soul and sigh
creation’s painting for those to desire
There is an endless count of stained skies
the love of the mind and not just the heart
one of clouds of sorrow with sparkling eyes
alluring in their own beauty and art
the sun always leaves, but in brilliant ways
each sky darkening, world hard to observe
yet stars remain, an eternal dark haze
deemed as dreary, given not what deserved
the dark of night and the shine of the sun
love contains every element, not one
I tend to wonder, when I’m sitting in my favourite coffee shop looking out onto the street, about the stories of the people passing me by.
Have they ever truly fallen in love? And fallen out of it? Are they tending to a broken heart? Or are they desperately looking to love someone?
What is it that doesn’t let them sleep at night? And what is it that gives them comfort?
Are they trying to move on with their lives after a bad relationship? Or are they happily in love with someone? Do they feel more like the spring or like the autumn?
Are they falling in love? Or falling out of it? Or are they just trying to cope with life right now, without the burden of love?
Are they worried about their future? Or are they finally feeling content with their present after a long, hard fight to get there?
Is there someone or something that constantly haunts them, doesn’t leave their mind like their shadow doesn’t leave their body?
Are they happy? Are they sad? Are they in that ‘somewhere in between’?
life isn’t life without tragedy, and I wonder what theirs is // a.b
I saw her today, years later, sitting in that old coffee shop down the street from our high school, the one we both loved when we were younger, a place I had long disassociated with her and long forgotten the memories we made there.
I didn’t think she would want to see me, a reminder of just how plain her life used to be, a token of the life she long left behind.
She was sitting by the window, in our spot; the very spot we made promises of forever in, the same spot we first kissed in on a rainy summer afternoon. The same spot we broke up in, the same spot I avoided for years after the fact.
She was still just as beautiful as I remembered, as if she was frozen in time like I was frozen in the middle of this coffee shop trying to convince myself that she had to be a ghost, that my eyes were surely mistaken, that I was having a nightmare.
She still didn’t look like she belonged in this town of 7,259 people. In fact she never did; she always belonged in the sky with the innumerable stars.
She was something else, she always had been. And a part of me was suddenly wishing that she would look at me looking at her, and we would get to talking about how our lives had been over a cup of coffee. I was almost wishing for one cup of coffee to turn into many, for a couple of coffees to turn into lunch dates, for lunch dates to turn into barbeque evenings with her family.
Almost. I almost wished for her to come back to me.
Like a high tide colliding against the seawall, the realisation of just what I was wishing for hit me. I was wishing on a girl who only existed in my mind, I was wishing for what she didn’t have in her to give to me.
So I took a deep breath, turned around and walked away from her. I walked away from the possible coffee dates and barbecue evenings, walked away from the hope bubbling in my chest that perhaps this time she would choose me the way I had always chosen her.
some things are better left unsaid, and some hopes better left unanswered // a continuation of this // a.b
I cry for you,
If only you knew.
Every single night,
I spend waiting.
Hoping that tomorrow ,
Will take away the sorrows.
When you’re in my dreams,
I never want to leave.
As I open my eyes,
The reality hits me.
Maybe some day,
You’ll take away,
The pain that kills.
And listen to what,
I have to say.
‘Cause you’re the only one.
The one, who understands.
love is so closely bonded with anger. warm smiles soon replaced by fury. but often the hatred is not for the person them self. love gives a person the opportunity to crush your heart into smithereens. anger means they took it, creating shards that cause wounds a lifetime can barely heal.
Every morning when I wake up, my mother sees my dead looking eyes and asks “what’s wrong?”
And every morning I tell her,
“Nothing at all”
After all, nothing is wrong. The moon is still revolving around earth, and earth is still revolving around the sun. The birds are still chirping, this city is still buzzing.
And this is how life is supposed to be isn’t it? Sometimes soul mates aren’t meant to be together, sometimes one becomes unhealthy for the other. So you move on, find new people to love and you never allow yourself to wonder
“will I ever love anyone else I meet the same way I loved them?”
But I’m an over thinker, and that question is always on the back of mind.
“will I ever really be able to move on?”
“If nothing is wrong, then why do you have that look on your face?” my mother asks again.
And I don’t know what else to do except to shrug at her and walk away.
Because nothing is wrong.
Nothing is wrong, but I still wake up half dazed because I would rather be in dreamland than in a reality that refuses to acknowledge my pain.
Nothing is wrong, yet my chest is always tight and there’s a constant imaginary lump in my throat; just on the verge of crying but not quite there.
Nothing is wrong at all, but I suck at goodbyes; and even more so at talking about it.
Nothing is wrong, but nothing is right either.
Take it day by day sweetheart, it’ll get easier to live without him each day. And that’s how you’ll be okay.”
“But is it ever going to get easier to live with myself? What is the definition of okay anyway? Is it drowning the memories into whiskey bottles? Is it looking at blank walls just to try to distract yourself but somehow you realize the wall you’re staring at is his favorite color. Is it just ignoring the feeling that your chest is caving in? Is it pretending that you can breathe? Is it avoiding any and all emotions because you know the minute you let it in; it will crash into you like a wave and drown you. Is that what it’s like to be “okay” after a heartbreak? If it is, then I’m perfectly fine.
Dear Future Soulmate
I’m stubborn and I hate asking for help so don’t take it personally when I don’t ask for yours. I’m very territorial, what’s mine is mine. I don’t use the word “love” lightly; if I tell you “I love you” I mean it with all of my heart. You can have as much freedom as you want, you’re not my prisoner, all I ask is that you stay honest. If you break my trust, it is not guaranteed that you will have it back a hundred percent. I don’t mind clingy, I do need reassurance and it’s nice to know that you care but I also need space; I don’t want to feel smothered. No matter what happens I will always stay by your side. I’m yours, and yours only.