In Threes. 

Beginning, development, and finally the ending. Is that how all stories have to be? 

A weary heart here

Tug hard and pull at the air 

Nothing is left now 
Hot tears rolling down 

Dried lips sealed with waning love

Disappointment stained
She said, “Just be friends.”

Nothing more and nothing less

He said, “I’ll pretend.”

Advertisements

Sometimes, sometimes. 

(Nobody will ever know love in its entirety. We keep trying to grasp it with two empty hands. Holding it tightly until it can no longer breathe. We think we can never live without love, but maybe it is love that cannot exist without us dreaming.) 

Sometimes it is not about seeing each other in the flesh. A physical holding of hands that all you feel is warmth and a pulse. The kisses that touch lip to lip or lip to cheek to the endless spine of nakedness. The hugs that bring two bodies together to fit like a puzzle found. 

It is about seeing the soul in another pair of eyes. Feeling how much work the hands have done since the last time its skin caressed yours. Kisses that try to translate what love can be, would be, should be into a language that the human body will understand. The way our heartbeats sync when gently fitted chest to chest and a symphony starts singing quietly from within. 
Sometimes it is not about how many fast plans, fast dinners and fast forward into the future we can last. Filling our timetables to the brim with no space to breathe ourselves. Seeing our tired faces reflected on the other and trying to keep work away from the dinner plate. Coming together for an hour or two but drawn apart right from the beginning – minds working in the background like sweatshop humans. No rest and no passion. 

It is about entering a world that has only us. A timelessness that overwhelms the senses and the universe stops. Relaxing into each other’s arms and really looking into dilated irises: how are you, really? Listening to every word uttered and there to catch the unsaid in uneven breaths. The emptying of the mind and heart to make space for each other, even if it is just a temporal pocket in that space in time. Letting the other person occupy all of you – like a nervous first date and laughing is still a favourite sound. 
What is everything? Everything is beyond a body and the five senses. Everything is your nervous habit of picking at your fingers, messing up the dinner table with carelessness and your constant running away from my prodding fingers. Everything is how your eyes water when I refuse a kiss, how you care so much about what is music and how you talk about the future but not about your past. Everything is knowing how your heartbreaks so delicately and how you piece it together again. Everything is knowing how you like being traced in bed, like an undiscovered island and the moans you whisper when you want more. Everything is intimacy inside and out, a forwardness and honesty with all masks abandoned. 
Being naked of the mind, the heart, the spirit and revealing first through the first layer of just a body. 
Sometimes it is not about whose fault is it and the things that went wrong. 

It is about the tiredness, the reflecting and the need to look at ourselves before looking at each other for comfort. It is about finding a love lost and remembering. 

Remembering what we had, what we have and what we should be having. 

Remembering what is it that we are fighting for, before the goodbye kiss. 
A kiss can just be a kiss. 

Or it can be the thread that promises us a home forever. 

Overwhelmed. 

Combustion 

Of hot tears 

Storm after the calm 

But I am not a wreckage 

Just hit by a tsunami of feelings 

Still straight back but so many curved lines 

Eyes searching for you the whisper you the caress you the gaze 

And I say nothing; letting my words tiptoe at the tip of tongue to drown in this moment a little longer 

– 

How is it possible to love another human being so much? 

I don’t know, and I don’t ever need to know. 

Endless Conversation. 

He: 

How much do you love me? 

She: 

How am I to measure the depth of the endless ocean with numbers and mere emotion? 

She: 

Can you show me more of your love? 

He: 

How is that possible when every little thing I do is done out of feeling so much for you? 

– 

He: 

Do you love me? 

She: 

How can we ever be sure of anything in this game of chance and time? 

Swallowed By Carelessness. 

You don’t slur words just to let them slip by 

You don’t pray for rain just to want it to go away 

You don’t grow a forest just to burn them down 

You don’t love a person just to watch them leave your side 

– 

Why let happiness be swallowed by carelessness? 

Why let happiness be swallowed by anything at all? 

– 

Your words leave gaps in my bones 

After you plant them there and weed them out one by one 

It was carelessness; a gentle hurt 

But the hurt is no less 

Than cuts to growing saplings

Rooted right in the heart of our love

June 25th. 

  • Love can be thrown away. 
  • Love can be reused, reduced or recycled. 
  • Love can be returned.
  • Love can be a passing comment. 
  • Love can leave halfway. 
  • Love can be kidnapped and never come back. 
  • Love can be a person. Love can be a plant. Love can be anything you would want. 
  • Love can be anything and nothing. 
  • Love can and Love cannot. 
  • Love can be unwanted. 
  • Love can be an obligation. 
  • Love can be an abuse of authority. 
  • Love can be a disguise for many things. 
  • Love can be measured, touched or tasted. 
  • Love can be invisible. 
  • Love can be just a mere legend. 
  • Love can be a story. 
  • Love can end. 

Or Love can just be Love. 

Past and Present. 

Can you touch me and think of her?Can you let my words slip by as she whispers secrets into your ear? 

Can you look at my face and see her eyes, even though mine are scarred and hers 20/20? 

Can you hold my strong and stubborn body with your skin only remembering how her softness, her small bones and her tanned skin knitted with yours perfectly?

“You two are the same. Similar in so many ways. Differences only in looks.” 

– 

She is just past, 

And I, the present. 
But does it matter when the shadows are always there as long as the sun shines? 

– 

What is it like?

Pretending to love someone when dreaming of another.