3 AM

3am, like clockwork.

Nicotine stains, ruffled sheets and desires.

The silken veil drapes around misread memories.

The breath in my ear, the soft growl of an unsaid soliloquy.

•

Lovelets, left to trace my bones.

Trinkets of lost moments, unfurled into my skin.

Life drawn through parted lips,

Whispering names, faded, a symphony.

•

Hushed amour, a forbidden indulgence.

Stealing unwritten stories, from diamond lined eyes.

Tresses for miles, an invisible line,

Evanescence, yearning, the only ardour.

•

Moonshine, on my tongue.

Intoxication, the redolance at your neck.

Naked remnants of strings unplayed,

Anticipation, a thirst for rancour.

•

Exist tonight, trace me down.

Disappear, like petrichor, a mythical night.

Waking up, with mere words for souvenirs,

I pen you in, azure ink and dreams denied.

•

Crossing the Rubicon

Born to glory, from rested ashes;

Of a past cordoned off in Wants.

Glistening in oil, anointed by experience;

Of a tread over-wrought with Cants.

•

Steadfast, unwavering steps across waters;

Rolling with testing truths and fateful lies.

Hold my gaze, don’t wither away;

Watch me, fixated, I cross the Rubicon.

•

Ominous flashes, crystal clear drapes;

Sleeves hung with dark diamonds galore.

A trail of silver dust, traces of despair;

Shush! Am I the conqueror after all?!

•

Your Crassus dead, Magnus forlorn;

Numbers you count, desperation reeking.

Kneel, you silly man, don’t hover in vain;

Step into the dearth of your own cosmic fate.

•

Listen, listen close;

Is that whisper from your Ebenezer?!

Listen, listen closer;

For YOU are my Rome,

and I, your Caesar.

The Armour.

Flaming red lips, clinking metal and glass, fingers slipping through pages turned,

Lazy curls falling down her nape, caressing what your fingers had dreamt of a million times.

Looking up you knew her kohl-lined gaze pierced right through and way beyond,

After all, it wasn’t a floating ghost you had opened the doors of your wounded soul to.

The endless talk hidden behind lit screens, a snug little corner, all you ever asked for,

Your imagination living stories that only your fingers could conjure up.

The moment of truth, that moment she had dreaded and you not,

The tables turned, with a blink of a veiled eye, vulnerabilities out on the lot.

A brave frontier? A naked fear? A clear blurred line, evidently obnoxious.

It wasn’t just your bubble anymore, but stark reality, in flesh and in bone.

You knew her story, you knew her hands, you knew her breath, you knew her kind.

But the only thing that you could fathom henceforth, was how much of you she knew or might.

All the hours after that you sat through, knowing you were running, running scared and running straight.

All the words you spewed that night, integrity forlorn, honesty denied.

Bits and pieces, your path traced by shattered facades or mere disappointment,

Were you running from her or your own shadow where your ghosts reside?

In holding up your weak tin walls, maybe you cracked open her steel-stoned vault,

Or maybe in her long line of breaches, you were the very last straw drawn.

Rest assured, she whispers poetry, she still draws dragons and traces stars,

A dragon she puts behind an armour now, an armour of everything that you were not.

Nostalgia.

Nostalgia is a bitch they say. I never understood what that meant until we stopped being who we were and became who we are right now. We are still us, the same people alright. But it doesn’t feel like the times are the same, obviously because things changed. But what things? Because I don’t remember there ever being a ‘thing’. Well, not anything that we acknowledged of course. You know what’s weird though, that nostalgia hits every single night, every damn sundown. And yeah, it does hurt like a bitch.

Remember the little game the PE teacher made us play back in school where we had to take a step forward for every ‘Yes’ to his questions? Yeah, I think that was our game. The only difference being that we weren’t in the same line like back in the day, we were at opposite ends of the court. We asked the questions, we answered the questions and we took the steps too. I guess I just didn’t realise the moment when I stopped asking them and just stayed in the game for you, but apparently you played by the rules only skipping the one that said you couldn’t skip mine.

Of course I do not understand, I never do to be honest. It’s funny, it doesn’t even make me mad anymore. I wasn’t even surprised when I realised I was halfway past the court by the time I saw that I had no audience, not even you. The game had ended, just like that, broken rules and well not broken but a slightly dented heart. So what are the rules now? Because I never made them, I only played to your tune. I told you I do not like games, half because I do not understand them and the other obvious half being that I somehow always lose.

I remember watching the sun go down together, swaying legs and beating hearts, we were never great talkers. Contrary to Harry’s beliefs, comfortable silence is so not over-rated. I liked the quiet with you, I liked that you just held my hand and didn’t kiss me when the sun went down. Kisses really weren’t our thing either, we were weird that way. Kindred spirits I called us, because we definitely weren’t soulmates. You didn’t understand my words, you said they weren’t made for you but you know what you said after though? You said you only listened to them because maybe I was made for you. You fucking bastard, always with the charm.

I’m still smiling writing this, I’m not mad and that kind of makes me mad if it makes any sense. I thought you meant something to me, that I owed you that sense of  togetherness. But turns out that I couldn’t have been more mistaken, you were okay on your own. You weren’t going to be my next charity case, and I definitely didn’t need one since I wished I could be someone’s myself. Even the thought of you makes me restless, only because I thought I’d let myself go again. I’m so glad I stayed sane, and I’m so glad you were way above my usual crazy dominoes. I call them dominoes because they always end up face down, never disappoint – not once.

I don’t think it’s you that I miss, I think it’s the way it felt to have what we had. I don’t know how it feels to you, specially with changed priorities but I feel a sense of emptiness. There is a space. Don’t get me wrong though, it isn’t uncomfortable or anything, it’s just very noticeable. My brain isn’t empty at the end of the day anymore, so many thoughts, so many many words. It’s hard to fall asleep knowing that you wouldn’t hold me for the same reasons, even if you did it would probably be because you were just too scared of a cold bed. It feels weird knowing that I’m probably not the last person you talk to anymore, definitely not the first person for sure.

You told me you had never been happier, I told you that it scared the hell out of me. You told me that you needed this, I told you that all I wanted to do was run away. You told me that I felt like home, I told you that it felt like a fucking storm. The day you knocked on my door at 3am, asking me if everything was alright; I swear to God I felt everything come crashing down. The irony of it all, our god-damned hearts. I hate your flannel shirts, I hate your stupid blue beads and I hate your stupid hugs that I never could resist. And you know what else I hate? I hate how you made me feel.

I let you in right at the time that you walked me out, I didn’t know and neither did you. I guess I lost my charm the day I held your hand before you held mine, you see, that was so not me and obviously you noticed. I watched you from across the table, smiling and talking just the same but your eyes wandered. It wasn’t other girls that caught your eye, it was just another life; a different future. You didn’t ask me if I’d written anything in my book anymore, you didn’t even tell me if you wrote anything in yours. I didn’t need to tell you the words that heartened me that day or the next or another, because I knew you didn’t care.

I’m not saying that you didn’t care about me anymore, because of course you did and you showed it too. You just didn’t care about us, the idea of us that you had planted yourself. You made extra effort, you brought home cake every Thursday, you tried almost too hard. The fact that even now I can’t just write a sentence and be done with it without going into an elaborate explanation just so you don’t misunderstand says a lot I think. We were never meant to be, just two lonely souls clinging to one another till the phase passed. It’s unfortunate though that yours passed sooner, and I’m still here trying to grab onto whatever little of it is left.

But you know what the hardest part of it all is? That it was all for nothing. My days are the same, actually better but the nights are just a little too long. You’re being so brave and pushing away, and you’re doing such a great job at it that’s it’s almost impossibly perfect. It’s not my Skype that rings when something is going on anymore, it’s just the door to your room that closes behind you. I still need to talk to you though, you don’t realize that and even if you do – you turn away. I don’t need you to be my wall, I need you to just let me be your shadow. I don’t need your cuddles anymore, because I sleep in your empty shirts these days.

You’ve let us slip too far, I let you do it but only after I tried clinging onto your shirt every damn night. But now I don’t feel the connection anymore either, honestly I’m starting to doubt if we ever even had one. Maybe all we had were your empty words, the castles you built in the air, making me its delusional princess. I am not going to give you peace by denying the hurt, I am not going to be a liar just because you thought it was okay to be one. I’m just going to let you go, just as easily as I let you in. That’s always been your specialty with me, hasn’t it? You get what you want, a little too easily. The room is empty once more, my bags are packed and unfortunately enough, so is my little heart.

Those Stars.

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

The little sparkling lights – light years away.

Against the thick black of the outer space,

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

 

As I extend my arms, hands reaching,

Trying to imagine what it’d feel like.

Putting aside all the science and theories,

If stars just felt like what the books described.

 

Tracing patterns, one twinkle to another,

Not just constellations but my very own mind.

Look between them, what seems like void,

Is endless, infinite, mysterious and oh so divine.

 

The night sky, the only constant, my constant respite,

Respite from you, from her, from air itself.

Breathing stardust, teasing glitter trails,

Making magic, all the while just laying there.

 

Lay by me, I’ll tell you stories; stories the stars told me themselves.

Hold my hand, I’ll pass you memories; memories I drew out of thin air.

Written in the darkness, colours picked straight out of galaxies,

Drawn blindfolded, just feelings of moments that will never be again.

 

What is beauty? You’ve held her before.

Kissed another? You’ve touched a lot more.

Look beyond, a mortal body but a miracle soul,

Look beyond, look past, look far away – eyes closed.

 

Do you want to fall in love with true beauty?

Beauty of the mind, like what your heart shows.

Or do you want to fall in like with the other kind?

The kind that doesn’t speak to you like the stars shone.

 

Little shimmery specks, blazing balls of fire and what not.

Yet so pretty, so fragile; like you could blow them away like a birthday light.

It’s like nature’s poetry, strung together with strings unseen,

When light can make music, that’s how the sky came to be.

 

Do you think they wish upon us like we do at their passage?

How many wishes could they possibly make, trying to keep up with our every fall?

If you listen close, you can hear them whispering secrets,

Secrets you can only decipher if your promises mean forevermore.

 

But alas, I feel like the last of the kind.

You right here, but yet your mind wanders.

It’s a gift they say, to be able to feel the universe within you.

A bigger gift, to be able to find words to put it into.

 

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

Of course, you see them, of course you see.

But what’s beyond and between, that’s only for me to keep.

Come lay by me, hold my hand, eyes closed – stay still baby.

Ball Rooms.

Six inch heels, high slits, red lips and champagne in hand – I stare out at the obnoxious luxury strewn all across the ballroom so vast. 

Everyone decked up in their best and at their finest, like an exhibition of absurdity, being seen – the only demand.

Glittering chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling, shimmering dresses cascading down perfectly etched curves of every woman’s body.

The heavy elegant drapes on the high windows, the crisp cuts and button ups on the men with their chin up high and engaged in big words.

I fit in here, my world, I don’t feel the slightest unfamiliarity. My impeccable style on display, my engaging eyes and my indifference to stares just in place.

The invisible bubble that kept everyone at bay, always pulled up, they could look all they want but could never step into my playing field.

It wasn’t a conscious choice, nor was it completely out of character of me. I was known to be aloof, probably part of the appeal.

I liked the distance, the liberty, the mystery that came with a life not shared but yet overbearingly noticeable to say the least.

I look down at my hands, noticing light smudges of ink from an afternoon spent writing out in the meadow complete with the best bitter brew.

So many characters to be watched, even better than the ones I caught out the window from my usual corner at the town’s coffee house.

Even the most uninspiring of people inspiring my best work, the ones with instant charisma eventually floundering into anonymity.

My secret life on paper never rivalling the one I lived every time I closed the pages and put my pen away, each as dear to me as the other.

Too many people had stepped in, many pushed away and some pulled out. I was just too much to stand up to for anyone with a sense of self.

Why settle for mere spectators or men with egos that demanded constant feeding? Why cater to lives lived behind lit screens, words spewed with no actual integrity?

A woman of such influence, a rarity but not the last of her kind. My time and attention valued at a lot more than the societal subtleties for sure.

I might lace your body with words, trace your thoughts in poetry but know for sure, it’ll only be a wager against the substance you aspire to offer.

I like being someone’s tragedy, suits me better than having one of my own. No one survives my fleeting thoughts, specially not the ones that don’t strive to hold my gaze.

Narcissism you call it? I call it human nature. When you find a precious ruby in a pile of blood soaked rags, would you just leave it behind for someone else to find?

The one who chooses to unsee the wealth lying in a gory mess just because the shine is brighter than his own – I call him a fool and nothing more.

I let people walk away, I say my goodbyes with written words. I hold the sole keys to both my body and my mind, the only gatekeeper forever and beyond.

I sip the bubbles and smile at the scripts being lived out all around, knowing that I’m atleast not living mine blindfolded like the rest.

A selfish act each time I step into such grandeur, silently measuring time and reassuring myself of the lack of my own ignominy.

Realisations dwell in such places, places that remind me of my own ideals and perspectives that are worth striving against, every second an experience and every sight an opinion.

Consider it my drug of choice, my drug of addiction but not a drug that I can’t fight against. Everything is a choice I can make and I make this mine every chance I get.

People and words, words and people – twirling and entangling into one another. The beauty, the intrigue and a source of epiphanies rivalled by none other.

Rain.

Like calming rain in the dark, pouring heavy, pouring on.

How could I ever escape the soothing downpour? How could I ever even breathe it all in?

Rushing through my hair, untangling and unfurling my golden locks,

But the flowers and the beads in my woven braid, washed away – baring it all.

Wiping away the masking glory, pulling at the shimmering volto,

As it falls away, my eyes reflect – someone I’ve never known before.

The pretty little boa around my neck, feathers curling up onto themselves – now overladen,

Dark slivers of a struggle unseen, now out for everyone’s cognizance.

My hands reach up with uncertainty, my fingers tracing the lines consciously.

The silken veil falls to the ground, my shoulders finally free,

All the crushing weight, forgotten – or maybe just so  it seems.

Just in a dress, in cloth as thin as air, shivering against the water, that snugly holds me everywhere.

Feet bare, the shackles still on, that’s one thing that will always be there,

Reminding me of days bygone, that i refuse to let go of, choosing to stay.
 

Is this just rain or is it a downpour of everything that I ever was?

Ever so elusive, considered a past, yet always everywhere.

I wrap my arms around myself, falling to the ground, pulling my knees into my chest,

There I am, drenched to the bone, almost naked but yet never there.

It always seems to wash over me, my body, every crevice and corner unseen,

But what i wish for truly is to be washed away completely, to not have a past, to not be me.

But each time, I’m left unsure of who I am and who I used to be,

Because here I stand, forever in a loop, nothing changing but just layers being peeled away.

With every cycle, I lose something, something that was never mine I feel,

Just afraid that when the last curtain is drawn, I’ll be nothing but air – invisible but on a stage.

 

 

Nights like these

I knew there were going to be nights, nights that were just too long, just too dark.. 

So here I am, lighting it up, watching the smoke leave my lips.. 

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Seeing me like this, it’s been awhile.. 

Trying to hide behind the smoke, trying to lose myself in the taste on my tongue.. 

What is wrong I wonder? Everything seems just fine, or so it seems.. 

But deep down under, there is this poetry that burns inside.. 

Burns like my throat right now, leaving behind traces that will one day tear it all down.. 

Looking in the mirror, I see the same old me staring right back, deeper eyes though.. 

Like it’s a challenge – the change, something I’m trying to keep.. 

Do I need someone? Do I need myself? Or do I need just another? 

What is it I need?  Looking down at the half burnt stub between my fingers.. 

I know I’m not going to be sleeping tonight, definitely not going to cry either.. 

Cannot read a book, or hear a story, or close my eyes and fly.. 

There is nothing on my mind, but constant ringing that I can’t seem to escape tonight.. 

It was a story I foretold, a story I knew before it happened.. 

It is a story I see now, I see now as I watch myself give into fate.. 

I cringe as my fingers burn, the lit figure forgotten and left to turn.. 

Hear me tonight, there is a scream in my head, not me but there it is, right there..

An empty room, curtains drawn apart, windows wide open.. 

In the darkness, the only lights being stars and passing cars.. 

I knew there were going to be nights, nights that were just too long, just too dark.. 

So here I am, lighting it up, watching the smoke leave my lips.. 

Yet again, tonight. 

Lullaby

I stirred in my sleep, feeling you move beside me, my hand instinctively moving to your chest to pat you back to sleep. You’ve always been a light sleeper, I was used to being pulled closer, to awake nuzzled into you on the complete opposite side of the bed and not even knowing. But I’ve always been glad that you’re that way, makes me feel safer or rather closer. I know I comfort you, sometimes I’m scared I’ll fail you, probably why I’m a little too protective. I always knew when something was off, even your tiny little moods. And probably why as soon as my fingers reached your skin, I knew this wasn’t usual.

I jolted awake, my eyes immediately trying to find focus in the dimly lit room. It must be early dawn, light was seeping in through our floral curtains. I could see your outline, your stuttering breaths, I heard a whimper escape your lips. My eyes crinkled instinctively as I pulled myself closer to you, pushing the sheets aside, my hands reaching for your face. I caught your face contorted in pain, my breath caught, my heart tightened at just the sight of you. Even in that moment, I couldn’t stop but marvel at your striking features – curled thick lashes, perfectly etched jaw line, full lips tilting up right at the corners – you even had some rough stubble just the way I liked it. I longed for your deep brown eyes, or maybe they were the color of molten ash, I always felt it depended on your moods. They were loving and brown when we were around people, when we were outside or when we were just doing random things – brown meant comfort to me, brown was the boy I cuddled into each morning while he glanced through the paper. But the dark tint that so evidently bore into me, it never mattered if we were at a party or just watching tv at home – it made my breath hitch, sending shivers down my spine in anticipation – well, that was an entirely different story. 

I immediately shook my head, chiding myself & trying to clear it off the most absurd train of thought that it had caught onto! How could i be so distracted! I put my arm above your head, my fingers brushing your hair out of your face and continuing to run along the length. My other hand caressing your face as I leaned down to kiss your forehead, my body instinctively wrapping around you as I tried to shush you out of your nightmare. I didn’t even know you’d nightmares, I’d never even considered it. You were so strong, so brave and so.. I don’t even know what to call it! I just never considered anything that could get to you. And here you were, shaking in my arms, pushing your face into my chest like you were hiding –  like you were hiding from something only I could save you from. My heart panicked at the thought, I knew I should wake you, that I should pull you out of this, that I should tell you that I was right here! But I was scared, I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t bring myself to waking you.

 
I watched you intently, looking for signs, searching you like I’d find my answers written on your skin. The fallen angel on your chest, my mouth went slack in wonder, as she looked to be stirring too. My hands unconsciously reaching for her, lacing along the meteor shower that traced her fall. I’ve always been intrigued by your ink, you always denied them having a story but I knew. I knew because everything about you held a story, and I was determined to unravel them all. You groaned as you whispered a little ‘no’, my movement immediately halting – I pulled back feeling guilty for something I hadn’t even done yet, like I was invading your bubble. You were such a mystery to me, so enthralling, no wonder everyone thought I was being silly and hopeless with you – which sometimes, I myself thought too. 

I pulled myself together, as I dipped my lips to your ear as my arms circled your broad shoulders. ‘Baby?’, I whispered uncertainly, ‘Honey, wake up’. It took me a few more whispers, kisses and some shaking to wake you out of it. You looked surprised, you looked at me like you didn’t even know me for a second there. I knew it was silly, but my heart wrenched, it hurt even though I knew it was fleeting. You picked yourself off the bed onto your elbows, all the muscles suddenly more defined along your torso, your hands automatically reaching to tuck my straying strands behind my ear, a habit that i was more than just accustomed to by now. I almost smiled at the look of concern on your face, your eyes probing mine for any trouble. You pulled me in, bringing your lips to my hair as you whispered, ‘Are you okay babe?’ And I could all but giggle at the situation! 

Here I was thinking I would save you from whatever it was that had troubled you in your sleep, and the moment you were awake – every cell in your body did the same for me. God, this boy! This boy would be the end of me. I smiled as I pulled you into me, remembering that you always said it was almost comical how I tried to fit all of the six foot tall you into me, like it was even possible! Maybe we would talk about it another time, maybe over breakfast if you ever let me out of bed to get to making it first, but not now. We were okay, just tangled up in each other, just us and the morning light.

My body relaxed as I heard you sigh contently against my neck, feeling your heart settle into a lazy beat, fully aware that you were falling back asleep like nothing had happened. I let a stupid grin plaster onto my face as I remembered all the thoughts that had run through my mind in the past 15 minutes. You awakened that in me, you made me so much more receptive and in touch with everything. I loved it that you did that, I loved it even more because I knew I did the same to you. We kept each other on the edge, fully aware that neither of us were letting go. Just a tiny little thing that I probably never noticed with any of my boyfriends before, that tiny little thing had led my mind into overdrive. 

I let myself melt into your chest, my legs locking into yours, trying to match my breath to yours. That had become my very own lullaby ever since the first time I fell asleep with you. I closed my eyes as I pulled in a long breath, reminding myself to etch your smell into memory. I felt myself drift away with you, to wherever you were taking me and not once did I harbour a doubt. Never even once, since I met you. 

Incomplete.

What is it in being incomplete that is considered a pity?

To be on your own, to be all alone, in a bustling city?

Do not confuse being incomplete to being lonely,

Lonely might be incomplete, but incomplete never lonely.

 

How can you be alone, lying in all of your pieces?

Just one or two missing, but yet all of it right there.

There is a certain peace, a certain sanctity,

To knowing yourself well enough, to believe in an infinity.

 

Because you’re never going to be complete,

Even if you travel a 1000 miles, a 1000 places.

Meet a million people, experience even more changes,

There are still going to be those few inevitable blank spaces.

 

Blank spaces are not always ugly or sad,

Like a sky full of stars with no one beside,

A simple sweet melody with no voice or rhyme,

Like clear white paper with no words by which to abide.

 

There is a beauty in incomplete things,

Like a forgetful old man’s random musings,

A single white rose, sitting alone on the windowsill,

A placid lake, with nothing in it or on, water just still.

 

If we can relish the wonder of such inanimate things,

Why question the incompleteness of a human being?

Revel in people, revel in their being, revel in the life that they choose to lead,

Because everyone has a story, a story being written, a story to believe.