i wrote this for you

I tasted the rain today and remembered your kiss during the first rain of last summer.

I watched the clouds pass, tracing your skin across their depths.

I watched the flame from a lighter burn a cigarette and remembered how we burned in the fire of our passion.

I left a crossword spot blank because the answer was love and our love could never fit into a puzzle; it had no rationale, no explanation, no solution.

I wanted to write this for you, but the words told me ‘no, no, no, do not write us, we do not want to be written just yet.’ So I sojourned patiently, as I did when I waited for you.

And then I saw leaves fall as the season changed. I saw them crumple and I saw people walk past them, ignorant and uncaring. Just as we walked past the world we had so delicately nourished only a season ago.

They say love can mend everything. They forgot to say love can destroy anything.

Balcony Musings

Staring out over an overcast yet magnificent vista, I wished for a miracle that would freeze time and allow me to remain transfixed. My mind was full of appreciation for the beauty ahead of me, both natural and man made. However, wishes weren’t sufficient enough floats and the ticking clock drowned me, submerging me in the pool of reality. The doubts and uncertainties came flooding back, wave after unrelenting wave.

Perhaps, you were just my el nino; wild win and rain too big to handle but too powerful to escape. My desire to find solace with you, within you was setting me on fire because you belonged elsewhere. You were just a passing experience, so beautiful that the destruction you left in your wake was mistakenly assumed by your victims to be self inflicted.

To lavish you with gifts and to enjoy you was to bankrupt one of their long-term happiness. But then, maybe it would be wise to simply embrace relational uncertainty. It’s called romance.

…Even if it’s not for me to indulge in.

Letters, chargers and the kiss that wasn’t

Walking away from the coach station, he felt anything but satisfied. In fact, it had been a tumultuous weekend, not because anything dramatic or devastating had occurred but quite simply because; he had been himself.
But he hadn’t expected anything different. Her expression flatlining, practiced but blatantly fragile apathy raging, distances building slowly but surely.
It was almost unsurprising that for two people who could not stop talking, conversation had dried up, disintegrated like the very autumn leaves surrounding them.
Anecdotes they traded, jokes the shared, silence they enjoyed in the comfort of each other’s heartbeats had been replaced by ambient sounds.
Walking away from the coach station he felt anything but satisfied. Sitting down in a coffee shop smiling weakly at the thought of hot chocolate, he pulled out the letter he had written.
Slowly, he tore it apart, albeit neatly, until the words no longer meant anything. The pieces just lay there, irreparable. Destroyed.

Conversation: continued

“Can you not be cryptic?” Her exasperated tone began to betray the outward calm she was emanating.

“Would you rather I discuss the concupiscent expression as portrayed by your flushed cheeks, or would you rather I discuss how that look was not brought about by yours truly but an unknown?” He seemed almost smug as he finished. It was almost as if he had pulled a rabbit out of a hat. The thought made him chuckle, inwardly.

She groaned imperceptibly and launched into a tirade chastising him for his lack of faith and trust in her. For the first time that evening he turned and looked at her. Cold, calculated mirth radiated off him.

“Trust?” He spat. “Trust. Trust is sometimes just a word, a commodity if you will, that is bought and sold to the highest bidder.”

She shuddered as he continued; “Words do not only exist according to their dictionary definition. They are shaped by the way they roll of one’s tongue and similarly, they are defined by the user. Trust. Do not brandish that word as a defensive weapon, unless you wish to be cut down by its sharp edges.”

She threw her hands up in despair, confusion and weariness obliterated her guarded expression. He remained frozen, statue like and they stared at each other, communicating silently but not receiving each other’s messages.

Return of the reverie

I tried to walk away but kept getting pulled back
Had a chink in my armour that, once exploited, became a crack.
Now i’m road kill without a life-support pack

Ran me over, left me pinned to the ground,
Drove away, never bothered turning around.
Raised the volume to drown out my sound,
Left me in critical condition and vanished; nowhere to be found.

What happened to “till kingdom come”
Now it’s only heartbreak and then some.
Ignored all the warning signs and was left feeling dumb.
No get well soon card at the hospital where I was lying, numb.

You cracked the ice and now i’m adrift at sea.
I cling to a raft called ‘memory’
You managed to ruin me and seem like the victim so cleverly,
Now I think of all the what-ifs and reminisce in my reverie.

Is the right thing to do the best thing to do?

Somewhere along the path of making the ‘right’ choices and doing the ‘right’ things, it starts to become apparent that you’ve not made many mistakes but instead, you’ve made an enemy of yourself. Your emotions and instincts pleaded, explained, yelled to no avail while ‘right’ options presented you with cold, hard facts that you willingly embraced. You made decisions that led to career advancements while your social life was left to rot, like the once ripening, yet unpicked fruit.

Alternatively, somewhere along the path of making the wrong choices the image distorts anyway and you still end up isolating ‘you’ from yourself. You become a shadow of the right person, but perhaps your tryst with self defined hedonism was worth it, because when you fell and experienced a hard landing, recovery time allowed for you to create a new game plan, a ‘fool-proof’ plan.

I suppose, somewhere along the path, the trick is to realise that it is not about the ‘right’ thing or the ‘wrong’ thing. It is about finding a balance. It is about understanding our limitations, because contrary to popular belief, we cannot masquerade around in masks pretending to be what we are not. “Our ability to overcome our limits defines us” is what many people defiantly proclaim and these very people suggest that just as we reach our capacity we look up to the skies and the heavens above and realise our capacity is endless. However, we first need to understand who we are before we start understanding our capacities. We need to understand the ramifications the decisions we make have both on ourselves and those around us. Yes, sometimes, peace requires war but sometimes we just have to accept that; blindly indulging in the ‘right’ things may not be the best things. When you go to bed at night, you may rest your head on the most exquisite duck feathered pillow, but in order to achieve that you may have sacrificed resting your head across the body of a loved one.

You, I miss.

I miss you. I miss you but I cannot do anything about it. Once inseparable, now we cannot be together even if we want to. You’ve just taken off and gone on a journey and left me behind to combat everything I feared. You probably did it on purpose but I miss you. There’s a void that you’ve left that nothing and no one can occupy. I hear your voice reverberate through my soul and I can see your eyes penetrating through my façade and impregnable walls. But you’ve gone and…

I miss you. I miss us but I cannot do anything about it. Once you lay in my arms, now we cannot have such moments even if we want to. You’re asleep somewhere else and left me behind to combat nightmares and demons of the night. You probably did it on purpose but I miss you. There’s a side of the bed that remains cold where once your warm and exquisite figure lay elegantly. A side of the bed nothing and no one can occupy. I see your smile light up the darkness and I can hear your infectious laughter vanquish my unyielding misery. But you’ve gone and…

I miss you. All I have are memorabilia. All I have are memories. I can only be with you when I resign myself to reveries.

Heartbreak.

A couple of years ago, a relationship of mine came to an end and I was left heartbroken.
Today however, I realise how wrong I was back then. Today I am heartbroken. Today Manchester City have won the title…. Courtesy a superior goal difference. Today, Manchester United have finished second to their noise, inbred, mercenary filled neighbours. Today, even a man with no tear ducts is shedding tears, a fat lady no longer knows what song to sing and even the sun is afraid to shine tomorrow.

My heart has broken into 20 pieces. Given the option, I would lose a great love every-time rather than see, in big bold font, that a team from Manchester, but not United has won the premier league.

I am so very despondent and so full of despair that I may even watch a Salman Khan movie or Jersey Shore or even watch a game of darts. Surely it doesn’t get worse that today’s premier league madness.

But I believe in the saying “ordo ab chao” chaos from order. Manchester United have been burned this season, but like a phoenix, they will rise and conquer once again. Even the mighty stumble, we’ve seen it with Federer, Barcelona, Tendulkar, but just like the aforementioned names, they do not fall but bounce back and obliterate all obstacles in their way.

Glory… Glory… Man United

A tragic love story

Once upon a time, in an era where inflation was stable, economies were witnessing growth, unemployment was falling and people were generally buying things above their pay grade, I was in a stable relationship with fizzy, carbonated drinks. I would enjoy the company of Pepsi and Coco-Cola (I do not discriminate between races) and I would caress and hold and savour my drink. My lips would drain… never-mind, this is a family friendly post… Point is, I was happy.

Then disaster struck and the honeymoon period of contentedness was obliterated. I was unable to stay faithful and cheated and opted for the healthier and more boring option for water. As with most failed relationships, in the end we parted only to become completely estranged. A thankless, boring relationship ensued and the years passed on without me ever visiting carbonated drinks. Life took on a peaceful yet monotonous path and time continued to tick on unabated.

Recently though, I strolled into a mini-mart and saw it. Those curves, that intensity, that simple yet sophisticated design drew me in and seduced me. Without any rational thought, I went through the appropriate channels and acquired the beauty. However, just like two star crossed lovers, it just wasn’t meant to be. Stepping out of the mini-mart, I raised the beauty up to relish the moment and in an instant, my life was turned upside down.

Screeching tires, flashing lights and screams erupted. Okay, I lie. A car veered close to me and my grip slipped and in the blink of an eyelid, the damage was done and my carbonated fizzy drink was gone. It was over.  I was alone.

But, in a typically convoluted way, there’s a weird sense of satisfaction I felt. I stretched out my arms and went after something I wanted. So what if I didn’t get it? We had a moment and that will remain with me….

 

Until the next time I buy a fizzy drink…

Mistakes and lessons.

Mistakes made, lessons learnt,
Touched the kettle, fingers burnt.
But bad habits die hard as I sit within mistakes galore
It’s cold outside, but I patiently wait and continue to knock at your door.

Dreams and memories
What-ifs and reveries
Questions unanswered and words I never said,
All these things wreak havoc in my head.

I seek a resolution
Not a drawn out conclusion.
I don’t seek a restart,
You were an illusion, a devious devil from the start,
But I’ve moved on but my head needs to satisfy my aching heart.

Mistakes made, lessons learnt,
You were my kettle, you left me burnt.