I always tend to ask why.
Out of curiosity.
Or maybe, simply because I can.
I want to know what goes on in your mind.
What words are formed in its twists and turns. What secrets you bury on the inside. What thoughts you chose to hide.
Tell me your story that is painted from your experiences and perspectives. Fill up this canvas with all that is you. Show me all your beauty.
I want to know you.
Until you are as familiar as the back of this hand.
That will always reach out to you but never touch.
Maybe our relationship is like a sentence
It has gone on for too long
With so many commas in between
Here, there and everywhere
To break the pace and keep things flowing
Pretending that the conversation is working and this dialogue
Of sweet nothings will sustain itself
But we all know
That one day the commas will run out
And the full-stop will have to be placed
Trying to avoid further complications and confusion
Because a sentence is a sentence
And all sentences have an end
Just like how it all began.
Days have been long and ending them past midnight only to get up by six the next morning is not one of the best things in life.
Lines to learn, lessons to catch up on, sensations to be aware of, getting things done and generally, just to get on with life.
Friendly texts from nearly forgotten names, the surprise visit of the two loveliest souls I know for years and hugs. Big sincere hugs.
The wound is healing well, the colours are changing, partial mobility is restored and my face feels less tensed.
Because I am still loved, shined on and feeling the light from the universe whenever I desperately need it.
Constant questions running in and out of my mind, insecurities building homes under my skin and the little voice that sings its favourite haunting lullaby when the sun goes down.
New possibilities, looking onwards to the future and recognising that there are good things to want, to fight for and to grab onto with my small hands.
In the moment.
Letting all these words flow and no longer holding on to the useless intangibles.
This is one song that is buried so deep in my heart, but it never fails to draw tears to my eyes to water the flowers on my cheeks and deepen my breathing so breath can wake my bones.
Honestly, I do not really know why.
But this song really speaks to me and it makes me sad that I am unable to articulate the feelings dancing inside clearly.
Who needs blood running through your veins when you have a never-ending stream of tears that stain your face?
Why wish your heart to keep beating when nobody seems to understand its silent rhythm and the beautiful way it breathes?
How do words hurt you when they are just black and white while you are the one that’s living and made up of a castle of bones?
What would it be like to have another life full of colour, patterns and song instead of scarred stars and cancellations on skin?
When will it be Dusk and Dawn can finally end to be reborn again?
Losing someone you have loved for so long.
Being stuck with a person you never tried to understand.
Your heart skipping a beat.
The body rejecting food and drink for days on end.
Imperfections increasing with each time your eyes glance a mirror.
Silently hating yourself.
Death becomes a promise.
Leaves sound like whispers rather than song.
Becoming a mere skeleton for a lifeless soul.
Dry lips parted slightly.
Tongue that cannot help speak.
Is it ever possible to feel so used to chaos
That it becomes order?
Is it ever possible to get so used to noise
That it becomes a lullaby?
Is it ever possible to become so used to sadness
That it becomes who you are?