Something inside me turns from ash to tulips as you slowly pull me closer
I run my fingers from your temple to your lips and STOP
I draw violet flowers all over your lips as I feel the mask on your face slowly melting away with each stroke
Words drip from your blank mouth, eating through space and time
My body longs for your warmth, my eyes writhe in the absence of your heart.
There's an Autumn in me that cries for the Spring in you.
Winter is the language we speak.
The south pole in you brings closer the north pole in me and it breaks the universe within us
Shattered constellations
A fallen star here
A broken heart there
You were my destiny with no destination.
"In what language does rain fall over tormented cities?", Neruda had once sighed!
You call out my name one moment
And I find myself drowning under the weight of his words the next
Maybe the absence of signs is a sign
Or maybe we meet again. Someday.
Somewhere in between my longings and the ever evolving regrets
Somewhere in between your suppose and the unsaid-
Broken but beautiful
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Our love is the star dangling in the night sky admiring the imperfections of the moon. Like the cool waves of dawn kissing the sands at bay. Like the horizon embracing the sun as it sets leaving behind traces of it reflected in the sea for the horizon to keep. Like the soft blow of the wind to a falling of an autumn leaf cradling it gently until it reaches the ground. I will always understand that our closeness is so far apart. Like how Icarus stared longingly at the Sun wishing that he'd be able to touch her and feel her warmth. Like how Romeo's stars never aligned with Juliet's no matter how hard they drew a new constellation. Like Jack and Rose watching the sinking of Titanic never knowing they themselves will be only memories of wreckage at the end.
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It is this deep ache inside me
That unfurls and creeps over every crevice that adorns my soul.
It's home and yet I loathe it It's dark and yet I hold on tight
.
.
.
Its this ache that pains me
Holds me and ruins me
Everytime guilt whispers into my conscience
It is this ache that tells me I live. Everytime doubt caresses my belief slowly
Seducing it into fear.
I hate those voices that never stop inside my head
I despise it when I let the ones outside in I want to catch hold of my fleeting self and shake it to its grave.
I want my eyes to stop searching
My brain to stop sowing the love In my heart
To stop this ache
But this ache is all but consuming
As it keeps me breathing
When death marches my way.
I don't want to look over my shoulder In the dark alleys anymore
Don't want to breathe the stale air that greets me in a rush
End this ache and tear me apart
There is nothing left but my scrapes.
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I was a little girl when I heard somewhere that
love feels like home
Maybe love does feel like home
mine was just haunted-
There is an empty rest stop between staying and leaving. A stop that doesn't attract the crowd. Doesn't matter who comes, doesn't matter who gets away. It silently exists and every once in a while, hope visits the stop and weeps in silence
-
The brightness of the moonlit sky melts softly on my skin and I realize this as I try to soak it in, that all that is left behind, clinging to my bones is stardust burned to ashes that is now all gone.
The midnight sun had always been an object of my fascination, only today I realized how utterly human it is
A never-ending canvas of broken shreds of light, trying to pierce through, trying to spread all across, but never really there yet...
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I waltz with him slowly as he whispers to me sweet nothings
'tis the final dance, he said
As I moved to the sway of it rythmless I felt the warmth of his cold fingers twirling my existence towards the edge
The start of life is the end of life, he said
and as the clock strikes 13
and I slowly feel my heartbeat fading
I ask myself if it was all worth it?
I feel my bones breaking into ashes and my soul turning into stardust
I ask myself once again
Was it all worth it?
I see the blinding light at the end of the tunnel
I see your face
The lights go out
Death smiles at me
Some things are best left unsaid...-
Somedays I find myself going back to our home,
or whatever is left of it
And if I press my ear hard against the wall
I can hear
soft moans and whispers
and promises of a forever
And then
if I close my eyes
it sometimes takes me back to our happy times
Which I try to hold onto
but fail everytime
Somedays I find myself
sitting in an empty chair
with you on the other side of our dust covered dinner table
enjoying the half stale food
trying to have a conversation with you
Silence is now the language we speak
Somedays I find myself tracing my fingers on the wall
Trying to write our story with ashes only to feel the paint coming off of the wall
And there it comes back all at once
the screams
the abuse
the bitter fights
Promises of a forever crumbling into the night
It makes me wonder if relationships too are like old houses.
After all with time everything eventually falls apart
People and houses alike
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