My Old Heartbreak

Hello, my old heartbreak. The one who made me feel like the most important thing at fifteen, the one who said he'd love me at sixteen, and broke my heart when i turned seventeen. The one who told me to "wait, I'll get you my jacket" when i was cold, but never did. The one who understood my need to write and draw and talk so much, so fast. The one who always came back but never stayed. The one whose presence i never looked for again, but always welcomed. The one who always made me the almost girl.
Hello, old friend. I don't miss you, not anymore. I also don't want you to come back to me, never again. I see you're finally writing another chapter of your life, it only took you eight years. But still, I'm proud of you. Congratulations. I mean it.

To Those Who Sold Me Short

This is a letter to that girl in 1st Grade, who told me I would never amount to anything, because I was getting better grades than her.

This is for those girls in 2nd Grade, who bullied me to the point of not wanting to go to school anymore, because I spoke better English than all of them combined.

This is for those girls in 4th and 5th Grade, who made me lose my confidence, who alienated me, who made me have no friends, because someone I trusted egged them on, because she was threatened that I would grab her ever-so-smart crown.

This is for that one girl in high school who said my curls looked like pubic hair, the girl who always shouted EWWWW at me in the hallways, the girl who made me cry. This is for her friends, too; the ones who would gang up on me and make me want to kill myself because, damn, I felt THAT small.

This is for that girl who told me I was too dark-skinned to be pretty, because "OMG, why are you so dark, did you go to the beach?"

NO, BITCH. BUT YOU LOOK LIKE YOU DID.

Sorry, lost myself there. Anyway.

This is for all you bullies, all you bitches, all you insecure motherfuckers in my life.

This is for the girl who once told me I was never going to be pretty enough to have a man even consider being in a relationship with me.

This is for everyone who made it hard to love myself.

Because, you know what?

I realised so many things because of your negativity.

I am not pretty, I never was. I am not THAT smart, either.

I am BEAUTIFUL, I am DIVINE, I am BEYOND YOUR EXPECTATIONS, beyond your capacity to comprehend, I am CELESTIAL.

I am ME, and I have discovered, I am all I need to be.

And you all, I realise now, were just passing little specks of dirt that got caught in my eyes and blurred my vision.

Sad Songs

I should not be listening to sad songs, I think, as I play the Twenty-One Pilots' cover of My Chemical Romance's "Cancer" on loop.

Turn away, if you could get me a drink of water, cause my lips are chapped and faded.

I should turn this off before the lyrics start getting under my skin. I stare blankly at my computer screen, quietly contemplating whether slitting my wrists would mean I could get a few months off work, maybe the finance department will finally process my commission.



And bury me in all my favorite colors

You're being over dramatic, again. overthinking, again, pull yourself together.  I shake my head and try not rub the eye shadow from my eyes.

I will not kiss you

Stop this song, it's getting to your head. But it's too late. That line has sent me spiraling off the edge into the darkness I've tried beating into a corner for the past three months. Not for the first time, getting hit by a speeding bus seems more like salvation than tragedy.

Now turn away

'Cause I'm awful just to see

You're being selfish again, wake up. But my mind has gone into a coma and it's happy there, dead or dying, I can't tell the difference anymore. There's worse things in the world, damn it. Just because your world is crumbling does not mean the one outside will stop spinning. Get up.

But counting down the days to go

It just ain't living

I fight the tears, tell myself I'm made of marble, again. I am carved from diamond and will not break. Force myself to smile, again, tell myself not to think of blood and death, and...

Lips are chapped and faded 

Stupid sad song, I tell myself. But I know it isn't the song. I just needed an excuse to succumb to the darkness again. Just for today, tomorrow will be different. I'll be better.

I will not kiss you

Demons

There are demons that I have to fight on my own. Most days, they never stop whispering malicious things: like how I will never be good enough for the world because I will never be good enough for my mother; like no matter how hard I try, I will always fail.

They tell me, every day, that I am unlovable, that I am not worth anything, that my darkness is too much, too consuming, to handle.
Most days, I tune them out.
I couldn't do that today.
I can't... I can't do it anymore. I am at the point of my life where I am ready and willing to succumb to the blade of the guillotine that has been set above me since I turned 8. I cannot keep trying and trying and just see the same look of disdain and disappointment in my parents' eyes. I can't keep crying myself to sleep at night. I am too tired to fight.
I can't be vulnerable and strong at the same time. I can't let anyone in without them being scared of whatever monster has taken root within my soul. I cannot shut the demons up, not anymore.
The rain clouds are coming back, and I have no more stories to tell, no more faith, trust, pixie dust. There's no more naivete to spare. It's all just ashes and bones, and cracked skulls and spilled blood... And me, crying on the bathroom floor at two in the morning, trying to swallow the spine-racking sobs so that no one in my family wakes up.

Void

I really do not understand
How I can be so sad
For days at a time,
For months,
And years,
And still have enough tears
To soak through pillows,
To fill up oceans,
To drown my sorrows.
I do not understand
How I can look at you
And think about leaving,
Think about disappearing,
Think about ending it all.
I do not understand
How you can still love me,
This mess of bones,
This empty shell,
This ember-less pit,
This desolate plain,
This souless void,
This haunted ghost.
I do not understand
Why I must keep fighting,
Why I must keep trying,
When I have prayed,
For years,
For it all to end.
I am tired,
My bones,
My muscles,
My lungs,
My heart,
My mind,
I am tired.
Make it end.

Selfish

My mother calls me selfish.

All the time.

Because I refuse to do what she wants me to, because I have already begun to put myself first, because I refuse to now please the crowd she puts before me.

My mother calls me selfish because I do not like being the only one assigned to watch over unruly cousins whose father does not know how to parent.

My mother calls me selfish because I would rather be at work than be at a family gathering.

My mother calls me selfish because I would rather be treated like an adult human being than the perfect robot she wants me to be.

My mother calls me selfish because I don't give her the answers she wants to hear.

My mother calls me selfish because I know how to stand up for myself now.

My mother calls me selfish because I would rather be alone than go out to the dining room and have a conversation with her, where I know that everything I say can and will be used against me in her own rule of court.

My mother calls me selfish because I'd like to be asked what I want to do, how I feel, what I think, every once in a while.

My mother calls me selfish because now that I'm 23 and can't be bossed around, it's all she can hang against me.

My mother calls me selfish because I stopped caring when I turned 20; because I realized it won't matter, I will never be good enough.

My mother calls me selfish because I am, I guess. I don't really care.

Storms In My Head

I sit in the passenger's seat of the car while you drive. I haven't said a word.
You ask if I'm alright, I just nod, afraid to speak. It's one of those days where the wrong word can make me bawl my eyes out; and I've no plans to cry in front of you again, not if I can help it, not now. My makeup's perfect.

You ask me what I want to eat, I say nothing, let's head back to the office, I need to redraft a proposal. It's the quietest ride we've shared so far, quieter even than the time I almost stopped this all. You ask me if I want anything. I want to break your heart and mine. I want to end this all today, this second. I want to see our world implode and crumple into itself, I need to feel something. I've had a bad day. It's not reason enough to break up with you. So I'm not saying anything. Just leave me to my silence, wait until I remember you aren't a complication, you're a blessing. Just... I'm a little difficult to love today, a bit more distant than I usually am. But that's me when the storms in my head don't want to calm down.

I woke up this morning and recited this to myself: I am the tempest, I am the swirling, foaming sea whose waves swallow ships the size of whales. I am the deepest recesses of the ocean where the monsters lurk and feed off your dreams. I am the hurricane, wild and destructive, pulling trees from their roots and bringing down the highest towers. I am the raging inferno that engulfs forests and mountains, and leaves all blanketed in ash. I am the dragons of lore who fly down from their mountains and bring destruction to all that man has built. I am diamond, I am marble, I am strong. I am the volcano beneath the sea that creates her own island. I need no one. I need nothing. I am all I have. I am all I will ever need.

I'm having a bad day. It scares me how easily I can go from warm and sweet, to stone in a few seconds. Somehow I convinced myself this morning that I didn't need you. I don't, not really, but you make me better; and I want you here, with me. I just... I just need to remember that I can still stand alone sometimes. 

Alone

I was always alone, or at least, it felt that way. I never had to let anyone in the way I have to let you in. Two decades of trying to come to terms with the fact that, at the end of the day, all that was left was me, twenty years trying to stop hating myself for the person that I am, and maybe fifteen years of telling myself I was impossible to love, can make it hard to believe in anything you tell me. It was always just me. I was never coddled, never really told it was OK to be wrong, to be misunderstood, to be imperfect, to be human. Every time I fell, I had to brush it off, " Don't cry," they told me, "It will hurt more if you do." I could be bleeding and holding my own heart in my hands, and it would be expected of me to stuff it back in my chest and soldier on. I expected it of myself. 

I made myself seem like I was strong enough to stand on my own, that I was my own fortress, my own guardian, my own battalion. I have stood on my own for so long, trying my best to hide my softness from the world. It worked. It worked so well, I forgot how to be soft for a while, forgot that feeling was something you needed to do. Then heartbreak after heartbreak happened, and I steeled myself even more, and withdrew my emotions from the world; all it did was hurt me, and I would have rather hurt myself, at least I knew how much pain I could take. So that's what I did, I bruised and battered myself to the point of oblivion, and hated myself so much I could barely look in the mirror.

Then one day I woke up, and decided it was enough. It was time to heal, finally, to learn how to accept the scars and the faults, and the mistakes. But, oh, what I wouldn't give for a moment to rewrite a few endings. I was beginning to accept myself, but I still had all the defenses up.  I still had to protect me from the scrutiny of society, shield myself from the judging eyes. I kept everyone out, while I healed and tried to believe in myself again. Then all of a sudden, there you were; and I wanted you. I wanted you. It was so strange. I tried not to, you know, tried my hardest to let you go, brush you off like I did with so many others. But there you were, and you were so kind, and sweet, and kind of indifferent and aloof, and I liked you. You saw through everything, the walls, the steel, the armies and the wall of fire, you saw through it all. So here we are.

But old habits die hard, and I'll distance myself every now and then, and doubt everything you tell me, because I still have difficulty loving myself, so how could you love me? There will be days when I want to be alone, but please understand, I'd love to be alone, and together, with you. I need my space and my independence, but I also need you there when I'm done being idiotic. I just need to breathe, sometimes, and it's terrifying for me to discover that I'd rather be breathing with your arms wrapped around me and my head on your chest. It's scary how much power you already have over me, how my heart clenches at the thought of losing you; and here I am still telling everyone it isn't serious. Who am I kidding? 

I love being alone, but now, I'd rather be alone with you.

All We Are

What am I?
A girl stuck in a woman's body, trying to make sense of whatever society throws at her.
Who am I?
Someone trying her hardest not to settle for a dead beat job, trying her best not to forget all the ambitions and dreams she hammered into her bones all those years ago when the world was more beautiful and forgiving.
Where am I?
Chained to a desk and imprisoned in a town I promised I'd leave and never return to; digging my grave in a relationship I've already stamped an expiry date on.
Why?
Because if I give in now, I'd never forgive myself. If I give in now, I'd never be able to live with myself, with the questions and the "what ifs". I'd end up like my mother, and that's my worst nightmare.

What are we all, anyway? Except stardust that was pulled together by gravity and fate all those years ago? What are we? Shreds of souls patched and stitched together with ectoplasmic glue or whatever.

What am I?
A bleeding, broken, vessel of sadness whose galaxies spilled out and emptied long before you met me. A broken doll with a painted on smile and a broken heart. A victim of society and the world, carrying every cross they have asked me to bear because... because once upon a time I couldn't say no, and I still can't.

Sunsets and Silhouettes

I always liked sunsets. I don't know if I've told you this already, but they're one of my favorite things. 

You took me to our first sunset yesterday, April 24, 2016. The first sunset I've ever shared with someone not from my family. I realized, after you kissed me, while we looked at the pale pinks and pastel oranges that riddled the darkening sky, that this sunset was you, and I needed to take a picture of it. I needed it photographed. 

I need it, so that I will be reminded that you aren't the dark purple storm clouds that have hovered above my skies from the time of my first heartbreak. I need it so that I'll remember you aren't painfully bright, iridescent oranges that blind me every time I fall in love. I need it to tell me that you're not the drastic, dark blue of the night sky during a storm cloud filled sunset. I need it to always remind me that you aren't them. 

You're you. You're this sunset, and our city on a sleepy Sunday when there's no traffic and no bustle. You're a different kind of sunset, and I love you for it.

 

Ropes

Do you recall, clearly, a time when you used to dream? No, not the confusing dreams that become nightmares, not your day musings of impossible future scenarios, but dreams: pure and true, and happy. Can you bring one to mind as vivid as the night you dreamed it?

Can you remember the days when you would laugh at the world's rules, and tell it to leave you alone as you ran away from the voices, laughing ecstatically because it felt so good to be alive? Because you could feel the grass at your feet and the warm breeze whipping your hair back and forth as your laughter was thrown back at you with the sun shining above and the calm waves of the sea lapping by the shoreline not far below.

Do you still remember when you lived? Or does the memory of when you started existing instead cover that in such a black shroud, the memory eluding you every time? 

Do you look at the sky and miss the feeling of being free? Do you look at yourself in the mirror and see the empty chasm where your soul used to reside? Do you feel the ropes binding your ankles and your hands, so tight that they've began chafing the skin? Do your wings still try to break from the bonds that hold them? Do the stars in your eyes still shine, or have they turned into black holes? Has the supernova gone out of your system? Do you still feel your heart beating? Can you hear it? Or has the iron cage that they wrapped around it so tightly constricted it so much that it hurts when it beats, and it hurts when you breathe, and all you want is to rip it out with your bare hands, but you can't because they've been tied?

Do you still cry out in the darkness, for someone to save you? Do you still believe someone will? Because your voice has broken over tears so many damned times, and you've screamed yourself hoarse, you don't know if you still have a voice; and no one came. No one cared. 

Do you still remember when you thought life was worth living?

Do you still feel the rare warm breeze from your prison cell?

Do you still try to fly, even when you don't remember how, even when you can't?

Do tears still fall from your eyes?

Does your heart still beat?

Are you still alive?

Silently at War

There's a war in my head, and my heart's staying out of it. You're making me break every single rule I've ever etched in stone, and I'm locked in a battle within myself. The voices won't shut up when you're gone. They tell me the abandoned graveyard of my dead selves with flowers sprouting from empty chests and shriveled hearts grasped in bony fingers will scare you off, and the fiery landscape of the desolated plains that make up my emotions will scorch you and make you wish for a cooler drink of water. They also say the ice capped mountains of my broken heart beats will make you wish for a warmer love, and that the dragons that guard my thoughts will throw scathing words and poisonous fumes and keep you at bay. They told me the tigress that holds my heart in her blood-stained claws will never let it go, that the fear will grip and cut me to shreds before your eyes and your eyes will fill with disgust, and, much worse, pity. They said you'd wake up one morning and see how broken I am, and that the cracks can't be covered up or stitched together, and I will be too much for you... and you'll leave me, like everyone else, more broken than before and wishing I had never met you... and you wishing you'd never met me.They tell me you'll leave, eventually. You'll grow tired of me, and wander off into the sunset with someone else, someone infinitely more deserving of your love, and not this empty vessel who is never good enough. 

Add caption

But when you're there, and you have an arm around my shoulders, the voices stop, and I start feeling. Maybe the abandoned graveyard won't scare you away, maybe you'd take my hand and walk through it with me, while I tell you the stories the skeletons can't. There's a small chance you might be the reason why the polar ice capped mountains begin to melt and start flooding my emotional deserts and they become lush green gardens instead of despicable wastelands. Maybe the dragons will decide to fly away, and the tigress will decide to fall asleep, for once. Maybe the fear will not grip me as heavily this time, and all I will come out with are scratches and a few stitches, and you'll hold me and we'd laugh about it after. Maybe you'll never tire of me, like you said. Maybe I'm worth it this time, maybe I'm enough, finally.
Maybe you're it, finally... But the Tigress and the Dragons refuse to silence themselves, and the voices are still screaming in your absence. There's too much wildness in me to tame, and I'm afraid because you're afraid. But you kiss me so gently sometimes, I start hoping it's me and you, and that sunset in the end; the reds, blues, purples and oranges playing along with the bright pinks and pale yellows. Then you put your arms around my waist, and it makes me think that you'll fight my monsters just fine, and do it with a smile on your face. 

Happy Little Pill

I'm trying to write something happy,
I have found there is no more reason for me to write about sadness,
and unrequited love.
But old habits die hard,
and how on earth can I sell happiness to a world that devours heartache
like it's the newest strain of Cannabis, or the next best thing to cocaine?
I've been so cooped up and defensive of everything,
so negative, so.... blasé...
so fucking uninterested in your feelings and mine.
I've denied it all,
the signs you put out,
the way you looked at me,
the way you made me feel,
the existence of my heart,
and then BAM!
They come crashing down and all of a sudden...
the world's all stolen kisses,
and watery sunshine seeping through rain clouds,
It's bright purples and happy blues,
and vibrant pinks and iridescent oranges,
it's so much color and so much life... and...
How did I manage to miss it all?
How could I not see it all?
I never thought I'd ever be this happy,
never thought I'd ever deserve to feel this kind of elation,
this kind of constant giddiness.
You're every color of the spectrum that I have never seen before,
and every sunset that I have yet to see.
You're everything I need right now,
you're me, but different.
More loving, more secretive,
more... scared.
But I love it.
And I love you,
and I kind of hate you for it,
but I don't care.

For Now

I refuse to believe in forever,
because once you do,
the heartache of losing you becomes unbearable.
I refuse to believe that you will never tire of me.
You will, it's a matter of time.
I will, however, believe in right now,
in this moment,
in the feelings you evoke from me.
And I will love you,
because I want to,
until it hurts,
until I can't anymore.
And I will smile every time
you tell me you love me back.
I will melt into you every time
you kiss my lips,
my neck,
my chest.
I will hold your hands
when you need me to;
and cradle your head in my lap
when it hurts.
And I will love you,
because this is a novelty for me,
to have someone love me back.
But I'll also wait
for when you want someone else.
Because you aren't my forever.
You're my for now,
and you're more than enough.

Things I wish I Could Tell You, But You Don't Like Words

I needed you to fight for me. 
I needed to know that if i gave up, you wouldn't. 
I needed to know if you'd be there if I break down and know what to do. 
I needed you to say something, anything. 
You should know me well enough by now. I am an open book.
I was always an open book to you. 
I never hid anything. 
I wanted to let you in, 
I wanted you to FIGHT FOR ME. 
But you didn't. 
You just let me go. 
I gave you so many chances to stop me, but you let me... 
You let me leave. 
So i left. 
And i already miss you. 
I can hardly stop crying. 
I LOVED YOU, I still do. 
But it's not like it matters that i'm hurting, too. 
And i am every bit so sorry about hurting you, 
I am sorry I gave you so much only to take it all away, 
I am sorry. 
Because I was so happy with you, you made me so happy. 
But I needed more, wanted more, 
and we both said we could not give any more than what we had planned. 
And I know you don't like talking about ANYTHING, 
but I NEED to talk. 
I need this to get out. 
I cant NOT tell you this, 
it will kill me inside. 
I love you, I'm sorry.

HBD

I still look for you.

I miss you.

I look for you in the eyes of every boy who has caught mine. 

I try to find you in the warmth that seeps into me when lying with someone else. 

I try to search for hints of your thoughts in the conversations I have with all of them. 

I try to find the shadow of your bright, knowing smile on their lips 

and try not to cringe when I don't see it.

You're the same, and different at the same time,

 and you're still everything I would ever want and need. 

You're still my white picket fence and two bedroom house with a large yard. 

You're still the happily ever after that I've always dreamed of, and will never have.

You're still every single unanswered question, 

and every single answer to my existence.

But I'm not that to you, am I?

 I was never that to you.

 I never will be.

I still love you, though. 

You still have my heart. 

You can keep it, I don't need it... 

not yet, anyway.

~C

Aftermath

I know that look you have on your face when you see me in a dress, when I slap on some eyeliner. I know that look. The soft one, with your eyes twinkling, and your mouth twitching at the corners. I know that look because I've lived that look. That look has been my life. I've looked at so many men the way you look at me, with the heart in my eyes and a ready kiss on my lips. But I've never looked at you like that.

I know the hungry way your hands grip my waist, my thighs, my neck, my face, my breasts. I've felt that hunger, that yearning, the need to rip clothes off and kiss the bare skin underneath. That, at least, I have felt with you, on multiple occasions, wishing we were some place private and not jumping at the slightest sound.

I know the way your breath hitches as you deepen the kiss, the rise and fall of your chest that moves erratically with mine. I know the way your heart beats like it's running a marathon. I've felt that only with one before you.

I know the way you're teetering from the edge of falling in love, or maybe you've already fallen. Please don't fall, I won't catch you.

But, babe, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING.

Spoiling me and pampering me, hoping that maybe I'd like it all enough to keep you close, to maybe jump off the edge like you are so ready to do. Making me feel at home, and safe, and like you'll be there forever and ever to hold my hand and take care of me. I know what you're doing, because I'm doing the same thing.

I know you think I'm sweet, and loving, and cute, and caring and soft.. and I am. I really am. But I am also the hurricane that will unforgivably rip off the hinges of your front door and decimate all you love. You hold me like I am the most fragile flower and kiss me with such softness sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve these moments with you. But you have to remember, love, I am also the monsters in your head, and the darkness that makes you miss me at night. 

And you're sweet, and kind... and everything I'd have ever wanted if I wasn't this... strange and broken and grotesque.

You are only selfish when taking my kisses.

I am selfish because I allow you to be mine for this moment, this day, this week, this month, until I tire of you or find someone else.

It would be so easy to love you, you know? So easy. But I can't give you that gun. I can't give you that power to hurt me. I refuse.

The Fear

You're every shade of calm.

The sea on a sunny day, in the distance,

the sky on cloudless days and nights,

the heavy, heady smell of the ocean,

the electric blue neon lights.

I'm every shade of anger.

The bright light of a flame devouring roses,

the heat from the candle on a cold night,

the darkness that refuses to leave you,

the jarring headlights in the dark.

Baby,

you and I,

we're like wild fire:

all consuming, all heat and hands,

and mouths pressed to each other,

swallowing each others' moans

as the heat creeps into our system.

And you kiss my neck, and down my chest,

like it's a lifeline for something more,

but it isn't.

You lose yourself in my mazes,

and here I am watching you,

getting engulfed in my supernovas

while I calculate the distance my heart needs to move

away from you.

Always away from you.

You're giving yourself away,

and here I am,

waiting for me to tire of you,

waiting for myself to walk away,

before you do.

I am every shade of anger, babe.

I am the forest fires

that burn your fortresses down,

and I am the cold winter storms.

I am the darkness that I bring out in you,

I am the selfish hands you use to cling to my hips,

I am your maddening kisses,

I am the jealousy you feel,

Stop giving yourself to me.

I'll take it.

I'll take it all.

Lip Bite

Your arm is around my shoulder, and you're playing with my hair, toying with the curls. I look at you questioningly, an eyebrow raised, and you laugh and pull away. It makes me smile.

I look away from you again, and your hands at my cheek now, caressing it. I have half a mind to turn towards it and suck a finger into my mouth so you can get the message already, why don't you just kiss me?

But I don't; instead, I joke about how thin you are and you laugh again, but this time you pull me close, and we touch foreheads. I try not to get my hopes up. I mean, what are the chances? You aren't going to kiss me, this is all just... but there it is. Your lips on mine. I am shocked, and surprised, and elated, and want to scream "FINALLY"at you at the same time.

But I can't talk right now, I can barely think. All there is on my mind is your lips on mine, slowly, oh, so slowly, kissing me like I'm the most fragile thing on Earth. So soft, and sweet, and strong, and you don't let go.

At one point, you smooth my hair away from my face, and cup it in your hands. You softly kiss the corners of my mouth over and over again, making me smile in the process, and then you take my bottom lip in between your teeth and tug softly before sucking on it. My hands are at your side, fistfuls of your t-shirt in them. It's all I can do to stop myself from ripping the damn thing off.

Then you kiss my neck, my pulse point, and I hold in a shiver. It tickles. You kiss my cheek, the tip of my nose, my lips, again.

And it's like this for at least 40 minutes, just us getting lost in each other's hot, wet, kisses.

It's glorious.

Unrequited

I fell in love with you too easily.
Too easily, i hoped and prayed
and placed too much faith in something i knew,
in the back of my mind,
was not there.
I placed you on a pedestal
so high and above the clouds
it was unreachable,
and i loved you
from the ground on which i stood
to the stars
that hung above your head.
You never looked down,
you never noticed.
And i planted beanstalk
upon beanstalk
to try and get to you, but
they all withered and died.
I tried and tried,
and still you never glanced at me.
But i loved you all the same.
I loved from a distance,
the same way i loved before.
It was easy to love you,
it was easy to try.
And it was easy to get hurt,
and have my selfish hopes ruined.
It was also easy to stop caring,
to stop sitting at the base
of the pedestal that i built.
Oh it was so easy
to dismantle that pedestal.
Too easy.
It was hard, though,
seeing you on the same plane as i. Seeing you for who you were
and not what i wanted you to be.
It was hard to walk away,
because i did love you,
i just didn't love you enough to stay and hope anymore.
So i did.
I walked away,
and left you there,
bewildered at my antics,
and still not seeing
the ruins of the pedestal,
the dimming of the stars,
or the withered beanstalks
that littered the ground around you.

I walked away.
But i left a piece of me with you,
and you still haven't noticed.

circa 2014

Hello, R.

Hello, my old love, how have you been?

I've realized, lately, especially after yesterday,

That you're just a pretty, shiny thing that I want on my shelf.

I've also realized that yesterday was one of the best days of my life.

Not because of what we did, not directly,

But because of how you made me feel:

So alive, so powerful, and womanly.

It was an awakening.

I've also discovered,

You aren't the man I thought you were,

You're far better, but much worse at the same time.

You see, you're wonderfully sweet,

and respectful, and nice.

But you're... you, babe.

Thank you, though, for answering all my questions.

Thank you for this.. awakening.

Thank you for letting me feel this feminine power,

This wonderful strength,

This undeniable majesty I have discovered.

Until next time, babe.

Because, R, there will be a next time. 

To Want the Contradiction

I need the sunsets,

purple and orange

and angry for having to leave.

I need the ocean,

blue and aqua

and enraged by a storm.

I need the wind,

swift and cool

and tearing trees from their roots.

I need the fire,

warm and comforting

and turning everything to ashes.

I need the land,

strong and sure,

and temperamental with its shaking.

I need the feeling,

of love and contentment

and lust and heat

and pain and strength.

Oh to want

both the anger

and the happiness,

the love

and the hate,

the softness

and the pain.

And to wish to want

naught more

than what you give me

But to always want more

than what i have.

The greif there is

in contradiction, and

the hurt there is

in not being enough.

But to want more

is to be human, and

it is in being human

that we love.

So I will take

what it is you give, and

hope and pray

I will want

naught more than you.

Warning

Please don't fall in love with me,

do not even begin to like me,

do not romanticize me.

There are universes in my veins,

they will make you lose your mind.

There are black holes in my soul,

they will swallow you whole.

There are dragons in my heart,

they will scald you with their flames

and devour you slowly, painfully.

There are monsters in my blood,

they will terrify you to no end.

There are skeletons in my closets,

they creak and jingle in the darkness

with all the unanswered questions

you will end up asking.

Please don't fall in love with me,

I will love you back for two seconds,

two days, two years, two decades,

two centuries.

But you will lose yourself,

You will drown in my mess,

in my galaxies,

in my stars.

You will lose yourself

in between the clashing meteorites,

and the dragons'breath.

You will never forgive me for it.

FICTION, number 2

"Hi," you say to me, an apprehensive smile on your face.

"Hey," I smile brightly back at you.

You look the same, sort of, a bit more beefed up, but you have the same sparkle in your eyes, and the same shy attitude that got me hooked four years ago. T-shirt, jeans, sneakers.

"It's been a while," you say in our dialect.

That's an understatement and you know it.

I laugh anyway, "Yeah, it has." I look at you again, really look this time, and I know behind those glasses is a calculating player who is trying to get me back into his chess board.

"So how have you been?" you ask, again in the dialect, as you assess me slowly, your heated eyes raking in the length of me.

 You see that I have changed a bit, too, and for the better.

"Fine, actually, back home now," I grin as your eyes finally reach mine, and I tell you without words that I know what you were doing, because I was doing it, too.

"You look good," I say, a sly smile forming on my red lips.

You look away shyly, oh, but I know you, love, and I've played this game with you before.

"Don't say that," you grin, and look back at me, "you look beautiful." You say sincerely, but you were always sincere when the moment suited you, and, yes, of course I look pretty, I'm in a short red skirt and a white tank top with red lipstick on.

"It's the truth, though," I laugh, "thanks," I smile sweetly and already I see you melt.

You look at me with smoldering eyes, and my breath hitches, oh, but I have missed you. I was too young then, I think, too naive. But I'm here now, aren't I? Let's play.

"Where are you staying?" you ask as we walk down the mall hallways.

I already know where this is headed.

"Nowhere, yet," I shrug, "I left my bag at the package counter. You have any ideas?"

You look at me and smile in that predatory way you men do, "I have an extra bed."

I smile back, I've been waiting for this, "Extra bed, as in extra bed, or extra space in your bed?" I raise a questioning brow.

This time you shrug, "It's free, at least."

"Where is it, then?" I ask.

You tell me the address and I nod, "Yeah, sure, why not?"

"Great," you smile, "So, dinner?"

"And Gelatissimo after," I smile back, and there's the 18 year old who fell in love with your artwork, again. I feel everything in a split second: the awe, the attraction, the way your hands felt against my skin while you painted me for that contest, the way I felt warm every time you spoke of your art.

You smile brightly, "Like that first date!"

"Exactly!" I laugh, only this time you take me to a fancier restaurant than KFC, and you offer to pay for the ice cream.

Just as we pick up my bags from the package counter, my phone rings, "Hi, C, yeah?" I answer, the present is catching up with us, but it's not like we're anything more than friends, "Yes, found a place to stay, yeah, see you tomorrow."

"Who was that?" you ask as you lift my bag and we go look for a taxi.

"Work mate," I answer simply, "I was supposed to meet up with them, because I'm not here on official business, but they were busy, so I ended up here," I gesture to the mall, "and i bumped into you."

"Good timing, then?" you flirt. So, it begins.

"Definitely," I laugh. We flirt a bit, and I ask you about your work now, you're teaching art. You seem happy, and the passion is still in your eyes, you still love it all. Too bad you never loved me, huh?

We reach your apartment, and you open the door, you take me to your room, and already I feel the heady anticipation in the air.

"Uhm, hey," I say, my voice small, because how do I tell you I don't want to do IT, I just really want to know how it feels to really kiss you?

"Don't worry," you say as you slowly put my bag at the foot of your bed and walk towards me, you're lips are a hairsbreadth away from mine, "We won't" you whisper as if you've read my mind.

I sigh as your lips touch mine softly, carefully, and I melt. Four years, I've waited for this kiss, the questions of how you would feel or taste plaguing me every day. You're sweet, at first, but then you always were, soft and endearing, and protective. I kiss you back gently, savoring the moment.

You pull away, and look me in the eyes, yours are molten, they still take my breath away. Then your lips come crashing down on mine in a hungered frenzy, and I try to catch my breath as you pin me to the wall. I match your kisses, trying to get my bearings, because my brain has become such a frazzled mess. My hands find your shoulders and i rake my nails on your shoulder blades because I can, because I want to. You smile against our kiss as I start to learn your taste, and it's all haggard breaths and hands everywhere, and silenced moans, and licks, and kisses.

Somehow we end up on the bed with your shirt off and me straddling you. Your hands creep under my skirt.

"Shorts?" you grin through the lust filled fog in your eyes, and you look so damned cute with your hair a mess from me running my fingers through it, I have to laugh.

"Yes, shorts," I bite my lip, and place my hands on your bare chest, Goodness, you've gotten wider. I trace the lines on your torso and feel the muscles jump underneath my fingertips. You take my hand in yours, while the other tugs at my now untucked tank top.

"Your turn," you whisper, eyes hungry, lips pink from ravaging mine.

I smile and rake both my hands down your torso before I lift my shirt and take it off. I'm wearing a black lace tube bra, and your eyes immediately zero in on it. Typical. I am amused now, really.

"Baby," I whisper as you finally look at me, "off, or on?" I ask, referring to my bra.

Your hands are on my waist as I bend over and plant little kisses on your neck.

They find the clasp and undo it.

"Off." you say in a husky whisper.
~~

It's morning and my phone alarm is blaring from your bedside table. I reach over and shut it up. 8 am.
I'm topless and skirtless, but i still have my cycling shorts on, and on top of you. My head is on your chest and my legs are tangled with yours. You're still sleeping soundly, but I have to go. I trace circles around your chest for a few seconds and then get up.

I find the shirt you were wearing yesterday and put it on. I grab my toiletry pouch from my bag and brush my teeth in your bathroom. My phone rings suddenly, and I rush to take it. You groggily hand it to me, and I kiss you on the cheek, "Good morning, R," I whisper and you smile sleepily.

"Hello?" I answer my phone. It's C. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. I'll meet you at the mall at 10. Yeah, ok." I don't hang up, not right away, because you've wrapped your arms around my waist and  pressed my back against your front.

"Good morning, baby." you say in your deep bedroom voice. The call is still going.

"Hi, handsome," I laugh back, "Kiss?" I grin as I turn to face you. Why haven't I hung up yet?

"Yes, please," you growl and I hang up, finally. We make out again for almost an hour until I push you away and say I have to go.

You pout, and it's extremely adorable, but you and I both know this was all just a calculated game.

"Again, soon?" you ask after I've showered and changed and kissed you again.

"Maybe, if you're in town," I wink and say goodbye. Of course I didn't hang up right away. I was trying to make someone jealous. I'm never going to see you again. Not intentionally, I suppose. You've answered all my questions, but I do respect you more. I smile as I wait for a taxi.
~~

"So who was that?" C asks as he drives back home in the company car, all our workmates in the seats behind us.

I look at him through my rose tinted sunglasses, he looks nice today, a bit tense, but nice. His jaw is doing that clenching thing it does when he's thinking of something.

I wave my hand form the passenger seat, like I'm shooing away a fly, "Nobody."

"Didn't sound like nobody," he says, voice measured.

"Really none of your business, C," I laugh and push his shoulder, "an old... flame, I guess."

"So what happened?" he asks, curious, but his voice is still tight.

"We just made out, bruh," I shrug, "he didn't even try to have sex."

"Really?" his eyebrows raise.

"Would I lie to you?" I smile at him.

He nods, knowing that I wouldn't. Not about stuff like these.

"So who is he?"he asks again.

"No one, really, you don't need to know."

The next four hours are the quietest we have ever been.