Novelty II

She couldn’t keep her eyes off him, as she walked away. Something about him made it special. Perhaps a realization would dawn on her later, that her world is sequentially different without him. It was what she wanted at the time. She was tired of all the fighting, not the fighting for parts. A need to stop the bleeding, she was tearing up from within. Her walls were thick enough, never letting anything through. His love porous-ed its way in, deep into heart void heart. Like a dawn of a rainy day, the spasms of rays light up the sky. Creating spatial rainbows amidst tiny droplets of rain, what is rain really? She asked herself. What’s the use of flying yet chained? She questioned herself. She was chained to her heart, locked down by blindness. She cried for a well written story, not an unfolding one. She was but un-bothered that her story was still being written. Her heart felt cold with each drop of tear that stretched down her cheeks. He disappeared into his dark-ended street. Both oblivious of the street lights, trying to pave him an obvious path back home. What would be the odds? Of both their tears hitting the rugged uneven ground? He would have caught her tears, if she gave him a chance.

But in reality, it was she that needed a chance to save them. But she saved herself. A life of resilience and building from nothing wasn’t in her to-do list. A life laid out already was hers for the taking, a king, a prince of charms, or a well written story ready for her to be edited in. And in that moment, as the rain died down tired from all the down pouring, her phone rang. That well written story, waiting to be picked up. She broke down, tears torrentially pouring down. She knew then that all her walls had broken down, from inside, waiting for his love to do the inevitable, of leaving with him.

For her, as he walked away, she understood his story was just being unfolded. And she would have been beautifully written with it, not edited.

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Novelty

…He wished someone came around and taught him, at that moment. As he walked away from everything he ever knew. As the chills made his spine their rocking chair, something beautiful happened in that dark moment. Willing to go the distance, he traded on. His heart sunk in, his brain shut down. The rush of a warm summer’s breeze filled the air. Even the rain wasn’t coming that evening. It knew better. Just the cover of light clouds dancing on a dark evening sky represented it. Then the street lights came on.

He wished someone came around and taught him, at that moment, how to love past the rejection. The fresh breathe of the first evening star took away the first tear off his right eye. All around were fellow living things, oblivious of the raging emotions crawling their way up his veins. But at the end of each step forward, he felt a sense of relief. His undying spirit: fighting on against oblivion of loathness. To him, she symbolized perfection; an embodiment of richness in serene beauty and breathtaking curvaceous smile.

He wished someone came around and taught him, at that moment, how to breathe in darkness and see the beauty of light seeping through the cracks, to feed his empty basement of a heart. So that one day, he may look up with his teary eyes, and smile.

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That Tired Bench

In a clogged world full of noise, I just want to be immersed in silence.

The depressing, dark-filled silence.

For not many find beauty in it, but agony and pain.

But what is a world without pain?

Would we know love if there was no hate?

Would we know what it felt like being complete without being broken?

So in the middle of that evening, I sat on that silent bench.

As people rushed to catch their evening bus home,

Seemingly to their ever happy homes.

I knew why darkness was beautiful, at that moment.

I understood why the best of time comes after the worst.

It wasn’t the cold evening breeze that made itself felt,

But the promise of a beautiful starry night revealed itself on the horizon.

So I sat there, on a freezing bench, breathing in sets of fresh air with mounts of foulness in it.

It must have silently seen worse days pass by, as I had seen better days come to pass.

And grew tired of them.

Nothing is ever perfect, not even the sincerest smiles of the universe.

Its flaws ensure its beauty never runs dry.

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Slow Down

Slow down, I just want to get lost in your soul. Drown myself inside your love. Hold you tight deep in the night. I want to taste the saltiness of your soul until it becomes my drug. You have no idea what it feels like for you to lay on my chest and the scent of your body intoxicates me. A point where it’s addictive with just the sound of your slow breathes. So before the skies open up in the morning, slow down and let me embrace your love.

As the morning dawns on your sweaty fragranced velvet skin, remind me to trace the edges of your soul on it. Remind me to take my lips for a walk on your boulevard of luscious soft lips; dipped in silk-honey. Your full energy makes broken beautiful; the woman with a broken heart. Take it slow; let me taste the cracks and broken pieces on my tongue. So that as I bleed, I’m reminded of how beautifully broken you are to me. My scars will heal, with just the smear of your silk-honey on my tongue.

And forever I’ll cherish you, because I’d know what it feels like to be hurt, to be broken, and to be beautiful all at once through you, on my tongue every day. So slow down love, remember that reason that led you to my embrace.

 

And when you do find it, let it out with soft moans through your warm lips as I slowly trace your body with my lips. So that when i do reach your lips, it’ll feel like standing with you beneath the stars.

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The Drop

I don’t know what happened.

But when it struck, it struck good.

Her arrows dropped on me.

Yet I wasn’t injured.

Except that one broken arrow, that passed through to my heart.

An arrow full of poison, hurting in all the right ways, in all the loving spots, it hit my heart in a true way.

And I don’t want to ever heal from my wounds, not anymore.

I want to bleed forever.

For my blood to run, overflowing in an ocean.

And if I ever run out of blood, I know she will share hers with me.

Let’s drown inside our blood, an ocean full of love.

Get lost in my love.

Hidden beneath drops of love, I’ll hide you.

And with every drop, we’ll grow stronger, and we’ll grow drunk.

Staring into the reflection of a starry sky, for as long as we can to never remember how deep we are.

For as long as they try to drain our ocean, we’ll always remain with it in us and nothing else.

For our last drop will be a new ocean, in itself, always.

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Beautiful

There’s beauty in life.

In every corner, in each angle, there is beauty.

So, I don’t want to wake up when it’s too late.

I don’t want to open my eyes when my world is too bleak.

I don’t want to appreciate something when it’s far gone.

I don’t want to negotiate when the world already set my course straight.

The little things, the small variations in the angles, make life what it is.

It’s the colors of a portrait that make it breathtaking.

But it’s the angles of the colors that make it priceless.

It’s the direction of the gentle strokes that make it unique.

But what makes it astonishing; it’s where it’ll finally feel at home.

No matter how many buyers admire it, there’s one that connects with it.

And that is where its beauty lays, a connection of souls.

A connection of souls that wakes you up,

A connection of souls that colors your world with its beauty,

A connection of two souls that gives your life, life!

So when i do find home, please remember to remind me.

To feel beautiful, at home!

beautiful

 

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Sinking Thoughts

It had been just but a few years, pretty rough, in my thoughts.

People had been through hell and back, yet I felt I was in one.

I keep on wondering what really I had accomplished.

Was I an inspiration?

Was I a role model?

Was I but an older guy like the rest?

I had dreams, I wrote down goals.

The law of attraction they said.

Pray more they said.

So I dug deeper into a muddy pool of quick sand.

Only that I wasn’t sinking.

I was stuck, sinking in my own thoughts.

Every day, I sat on the same chair.

Every day, I realized the veracity of my life.

Every day, thoughts of my dreams reminded me of what I hadn’t accomplished.

A cycle of never-changing days, each day absolutely the same with the next.

I also had dreams, young and ambitious.

I went ahead and took on life, a desire to do everything.

A desire, filled with castle-air promises.

Time, ticking away slowly, is of the essence.

An escape is all I needed.

Leave my mind behind, sinking in its thoughts.

*telephone rings*

My thoughts pause, just for a while.

The voice on the other end reminds me of my obligation.

The voice reminds me of my big dreams that got narrower and specific.

The voice reminds me of my small yet of magnitude accomplishments.

The voice reminds me of a home I’m to go to.

The voice reminds me of family I’ve built up.

The voice is a constant reminder that I’m still on the highway of life.

A voice, reminding me that I’m young enough to dream,

But old enough to do what it takes, to accomplish them, step by step.

Voices, mature enough to show me what I’ve build so far.

They remind me, through my sinking thoughts.

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Promise Me

It’s the last day of a long year.

Nothing has changed, really, to the better.

It is as it was, the first day of the year.

I’m still drowning in my own tears.

I can’t stop because of a heavy heart.

Everything in between the year was as beautiful as the universe itself.

A universe drenched in darkness.

As promises echoed through my veins, my smile got rearranged.

My laughter replaced.

It felt like heaven, the darkness itself.

Somehow it turned into my light.

Something about drowning,

Something about hitting the bottom was liberating.

Something about it was unexplainable.

The only way after hitting the rock bottom, was up.

But I needed to take my rock bottom with me.

For it fired me into everything I was.

A new being, facing anything.

I yearned for everything in-between the darkness and light.

Ships sink for letting water in, not mine.

Sailing with the gods, to let the darkness in,

For it was the source of my light.

Until when I’m full, I’ll drown in her darkness, her broken promises.

And my broken pieces will be liberated into the light of the darkness.

But just promise me to pause, and enjoy the liberation.

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Dream About Me

I get lost in my dreams, but I never stop dreaming.

Thoughts remind me in the morning that I am still human, not an animal.

Painting faces, coloring worlds but my own.

Save the best for last.

Yet my dreams swim alone in dark rooms, pretending.

Pretending it’s a world full of city streets and candles.

I don’t know what happens inside them.

I wish I could.

I wish I did call my dreams, late in the night.

Talk endlessly, living in self-mirages.

I wish I could hear its voices, in my head.

Guiding path of wonder and illusion of what’s to come.

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Shooting Stars

I wish I believed in shooting stars.

Maybe then I’d be living my fantasy.

Only then could I understand.

Why the sky is full of stars, to be wished upon.

I wish I lived in the moments.

Maybe then I’d realize how life sets you apart to your own journey.

I wish I forced my limits to the sky.

Maybe then I would understand what it’s like to be airborne.

I wish I jumped to opportunities.

Maybe then I’d have been far away living my dreams.

I wish life was unfair.

Maybe then I’d have accepted how fair it in its existence.

Life is a journey.

Full of wishes set out free into the universe.

At the end of every sunset, it doesn’t matter where I’m going or where I am.

All that is brought forth into the horizon in each sunrise is the importance.

An importance of whether or not I keep on moving.

The distance in-between serves as a reminder.

A reminder to keep on wishing, to keep on moving, to keep on building, to keep on growing!

After it’s all said and done, nothing will change how it began.

As a wish!

I’ve been drowned in so many wishes, but no regrets in the end.

Life turns out better than the wish of my wishes, every day.

Everyday, the stars keep on shooting.

So why regret and the sky is full of them?

stars

 

 

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