I wish reading your thoughts was like opening a book.
Everything is laid out in black and white.
I wish skimming the pages was all it took.
To gain the truth of what is going on inside.
But reading you takes work and a lot of time.
I would like to say you’re written literature
Alas you are not because books have spines.
Standing on edge, waiting for that dive.
Waiting for that one moment, where I can feel alive.
The bright blue waves crashing towards boulders
Give me no fear, I am ready to go under.
Shouting, at blue and open skies.
I challenge fate, the kind that defies.
No rules, no reservations.
No stopping, no considerations.
Toes perched, on a cliff.
Swinging arms, thrusting hips.
Down, down a spiral I will go.
I will enjoy the ride.
I will enjoy the show!
I love waiting for the rain. I like how mysteriously it creeps up with thunder and clouds. I especially like it when its scent invades my senses. It’s exciting and thrills me to the bones.
I love waiting for the rain because I know you are about to arrive. You are about to caress my face, my neck and my entire body. You are about to fill my world with your hues of grays. I am ready to drown in you. I am addicted but I am patient.
Sometimes you never come at all although I hear your grumbles. I look up, your clouds are there, hovering but you never come. It’s like you are teasing me. You make me want you more. I am annoyed, my skin prickling and uncomfortable. Heat does not become my cold dark soul. I am melting and you are my salvation.
Oh how summer tortures me. Our memories rip apart my soul over and over until every piece of me is falling like the leaves of autumn. I am in pain but still, I am patient.
I love waiting for the rain. I love your every form. Often times you are stormy, torrid and vicious. You pelt me with your words, as if I deserve to be drowned in your anger. There are times when you are so sweet, silently falling and giving that comfort only you can give. I might say I like you better that way but then when you are so passionately falling when I am in bed, I am on fire! Your lightning and thunder send shivers all over my body. It’s electricity and I am sated, happy.
Painfully, every meeting ends with my waiting. It is because you can never stay too long. You can never keep falling eternally. Somebody needs you as well. I do not own your heart, no not even your name. I only own these moments of torment and bliss. But I am patient and I wait…always waiting…
so she wore a dress that made her look so
She danced, pranced, flitted and got all flirty
it became an addiction she could no let go
The dress fused with her fickle soul, imbued with shallow thoughts
that when she tried to take it off, it wouldn’t budge, she became distraught.
Pretty as she thought she was, the games she played has gone and passed
Now try she may to change her ways
Her soul had rotted, her reputation decayed.
Prettily she sat all alone with her mess
With nothing left but misery and her now filthy dress
To fools whose vanity borders on insanity
Take caution with how you play your game
For if your conceit exceeds propriety
You’ll pay ten-fold for the hearts you’ve maimed…
The sheets are cold nowadays.
I could feel the chill settling through my very soul.
It’s not surprising given the fact that he left a few nights ago. I was dreamless that night and yet, I did not feel anything when he unwrapped his arms around my resting body. I did not stir when he got up and dressed to leave.
The morning I woke up, I was still as an ice sculpture. I had known that this was coming –the silence after each intimate evening loomed over the horizon like a thunderstorm ready to wreak devastation. I listened intently to anything that would negate what I was thinking at least, blur the white-hot reality.
But my shallow breathing was all that I could hear, amplifying the stale odor of being alone, not just in bed but also in the future.
I shuddered and curled myself into a ball wondering when the tears would start coming. I did not have any idea when it started but I’m pretty certain I always woke up with a wet pillow and tear-stained cheeks.
It was like that for a few days until I couldn’t cry anymore -Not that it made things better. There’s nothing worse than crying with dry eyes. It’s like trying to push sawdust out of heavy, unwilling-to-open eyelids.
Tonight, I feel the cool pillow on my cheeks as I lay my head. I could hear my soul praying for sleep to come early so as to save myself from the intense emotional pounding brought on by the stillness of the night. Silence screams the loudest, this we all know.
I never heard from him again. He never even bothered to get his things. I sigh heavily in the dark, which is my new companion.
Was it that horrible for him then? Was I that blind when it came to knowing how he truly felt? Had I love him too much or too little? Did my touch seem cold or my look too distant? I wonder if he could no longer stand touching me- knowing my secrets? Did I feel foreign to him or was it that he had found the joy in somebody else? Did he see a different set of eyes when he looked into mine? Did he imagine tasting somebody else’s lips when he kissed me over and over? Did he want to hear a different voice or feel a different touch? What happened to forever? Has it reached its end? Was this eternity then… the end of the road?
I lie and wait for the shadows to answer me. I hear nothing. It doesn’t help that the sound of my breaking heart stood out like a beacon. No, my pain had to echo, scream and pound in every corner of my dark room; like waves crashing angrily to the shore –uncaring if it erodes the strongest of rocks.
He could never understand her. He muttered about how he didn’t like the way she, unconsciously, changed the channel during the last two minutes of a very thrilling NBA game. He can’t blame her for being oblivious to the fact that he was sitting on edge, biting his nails off in anticipation. She just wanted to watch the Brad Pitt flick that was on HBO.
He sighed and looked at the heavens then let out a low laugh.
He hated the way she talked to him sometimes, as if he was hearing impaired. There wasn’t any need to shout. He cleaned his ears regularly. He resented the fact that she calls him a liar and that he’s not a good listener. He just didn’t want to argue with her over something silly and impossible.
He stopped talking for a moment looking at his hands. He seemed at a loss for words. He took a deep breath and softly whispered. ” But you know what I hated the most…I loathed it when you left me…”
He fixes the flowers he had laid on the ground for her. He wipes the tears that were streaming down his face and takes a deep breath.
He will never forget her…because he knew she loved him… and oh, how he had loved her.
Precocious Madness 