Your soul feels so much like home, and when I met you, I finally understood what they mean when they say, ‘Not all who wander are lost’.
For I always find myself wandering back in your arms.
It is the feeling of tiredness that creeps on you even if you haven’t done anything all day long. It is the crying spells that overtakes you when you are finally left all alone after a long day of pretending to be okay. It is the waking up every 2AM with your thoughts all jumbled up and morose. It is the desire to sleep all the time, to stubbornly stay on bed, and be continually lost in dreams that never makes sense. It is wanting to be somewhere that isn’t really here on the here and now. It is the staring contest at the ceiling, when you finally found a temporary peace in finding no thoughts, no chaos, no feelings, just a deep hollowed numbness at the center of your being.
We, always, always, always have a choice. No matter how much other people or circumstances try to convince you otherwise, do not for a single second believe that you don’t have one.
In reality, I have to remind myself of this truth everyday. That I have a choice. That right at this moment, I am choosing this. And at any moment, I can unchoose this too.
And you can unchoose this too.
Only you know
the depth of my soul
the beat of my heart
the sigh on my lips
the heat of my fevers
the cold of my chills
the roundness of my bones
the edges in my curves
Only you know
the taste of my tears
the sting of my words
the hatred in myself
the grief in my smiles
the swings of my moods
the darkness of my secrets
the pureness of my reasons
Only you know
of me, apart from the One above
for only you I have trusted my thoughts
with the sound of my voice
before I sleep
And now that your feeling is waning
and mine will soon follow
let me just say,
I love you
for the very first and last time.
I need to get away
before you see all that I am
and all that I’ve been through
I bet it just a matter of time
before you realize
what mess I put myself through
And I never wanted the time to come
when I will see disappointment and disgust
reflected in your eyes
So let me run away for good now
before I get too deep
and trust you too real
And allow me to be
the one who walks away
because I won’t ever manage if it’s you.
I hold on to you
just like a cutter
holding on to its blade
you can magically make pain
go all away.
But every time,
after the storm passed
and the mood subsided
like a cut,
you make a scar in my heart
so deeply, I’m afraid
I will never be whole again.
There’s something about rooftops and heights and buildings that makes me want to live, and jump, and die, and laugh, and fall in love, and cry, all at the same time.
I’m in love with heights. I love the scenic view of anything from above. No matter what it is, even if it’s just a view of garbage pile, I don’t really mind as long as I’m on up above, above the world’s care, above the people’s chatter below, above the lines of honking cars that piles up creating the typical Monday traffic.
I guess it’s the peaceful feeling that comes with it. Of being above. The kind of peace that makes all the noises and voices in my head stop. And I crave for that feeling, that feeling of stillness and of calm nothingness.
So it’s not too much to ask I guess
to be on the world’s highest building
on a windy cold midnight
and with the moon shining in the clear sky
then waking up the next day
with nothing but a vague feeling
tugging at my heart
for the rest of my life.
Maybe, I have been already in that place. That place that haunts me on my sleep when I was young, that special place that I haven’t been on yet but am familiar like the back of my hand, a place I don’t even know if it exists.
And sometimes when the vision persists you can’t help but wonder if it happened in some past lives or some dream that you can’t remember anymore.
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Inspired by #FWF Free Write Friday: Ponder This…
It’s a cold rainy afternoon, and it’s weekend, and there’s nothing much to do but read a novel, watch TV, or curl up on a bed with him—with First. And in that moment and time, I imagine that he is my husband and it’s already the future that I’d always saw in my visions and long-lost dreams—
He would be in the kitchen making a cup of hot tea for me because my stomach is cramping after eating the lunch that we’d had, while I’m on our bed, on my side with a book, waiting for him to finish whatever tea he is brewing.
Then he would silently open the door, and I would hear his footsteps but I wouldn’t look at him and I would pretend to be so engrossed in the book I’m reading when the fact is that all I want to do is to look at his beautiful face the entire day.
Then I would hear him place the cup on our side table, and then I would hear the bed creak, and I would feel him on my side. He would wrap his arms around me and my stomach and he would kiss my bare shoulders, then he would whisper to my ears, “Still hurts?”
Inside I would smile, but I would turn to him, and making a face I would say, “Yes, a little.”
He would nod in understanding, and I would see love and concern in his eyes. He would bring his face close to mine, almost kissing me, then he would breathe, closing his eyes, and I would inhale too his scent, clean and heavenly, and I would feel instantly safe, and then he would whisper to me that he prepared me my favorite tea.
I would touch his beautiful face, grateful for having this being before me, and I would murmur, “Thanks.”
Then with that, he would open his eyes and would lock his gaze on me.
Then he would smile and I would forget that my stomach is cramping or that the protagonist in the book I was reading is about to get shot and I would forget everything in the world, and why I even chose him, or why I even have a problem in choosing him in the past, for this is my reality now; he is my God-willed and God-given reality. Then, as if knowing that I’m about to be lost forever in his eyes, he would nudge me gently, kiss my forehead, and remind me softly that my tea will get cold any moment if I don’t start sipping it.
An entry to Daily Post weekly writing challenge and a first timer on *yeah write.
Yesterday on my way home, a poem was building on my mind. A poem about you and me. But not really you, for it is more about me and how I want to feel the beauty of feeling that people always ascribe to love. I wanted to capture it in a poem, even for a fleeting moment, a poem just full of happiness and no pain. I wanted to feel the happiness, even for that poem, even by being just inside that poem. So I resolved to write it when I got home. But then I got lazy and I went to bed early instead.
There I read a book while I lay on my stomach, and then you came to me as always, and I saw your face, and I felt every bit of you as you cup my cheeks in between your hands, and kissed me lightly on the lips, as you always did now. You must love me or respect me to kiss me like that always, the way I wanted to be kissed, not the way you wanted to kiss me. You might think I might not notice, but I do. Because the first time wasn’t how I really wanted it. Just passion and lust. And I don’t want anything like that. But then I noticed as days and years pass, you changed. I mean the kisses change and how you held me every night. For the first time then, I feel love from you, and you started to be more gentle, in your kisses, in your hugs, in your touches.
I still don’t believe anything of it is true. I’m the kind of person who pretty much believes in everything, and don’t believe in anything. It’s like being on two opposite poles and I’m never on the center. Sometimes I believe on everything, and then the next time, I don’t anymore. That’s how I am like. So there were times I believed in you, moments I tried to let the idea sink into my head, down into my heart, and deep into my soul.
But there were moments, and there are pretty much many times when I tried to cast it all away. To banish you, to push you away, and to pull myself away from you. And I enjoyed those times. Yes, I enjoyed harming myself when feelings went too much because I don’t know how else to cope but to feel another pain, much more intense than the first one. And that’s how I do it. Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m not. But definitely having you in my life nailed me as one.
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