Dreams and Nightmares

I dream of that stairwell, where we shed our inhibitions and our intertwined fingers linked our futures together.

I have  nightmares of departures, delivered in less than 160 characters.

I dream of that timetable, two lives, one schedule.

I have nightmares of departures, delivered by silence.

I dream of that dimly lit entrance foyer, where we stole kisses and left enduring memories.

I have nightmares of departures, your tears erasing my final letter.

I dream of that clandestine meetings in a study room, your eyes catching mine and my smile illuminating your body.

I have nightmares of departures, a happy meal devoid of joy, *exit stage left*

I dream of those little talks and long walks, where our hearts would beat louder than our words.

I have nightmares of departures, your misplaced anger setting fire to all that we knew.

Someday, a love will not know loss and a relationship will not bear cost. A love will be found on open streets with one someone unknown, beautiful and sweet. Slow kisses, long lives – a timeless dance, innocent yet cleverly,

She will be my reverie.


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.