I was your Home.

You made your home inside of me. You started slowly, placing brick by brick and fixing those bricks with cement and water. You came close, sometimes too close and sometimes; not close enough. You were there, enchanting and then you were gone. Your eyes would meet mine and for the rest of the night, I would search for my favourite pair. Then there were doors. There were tiny creaking doors and large doors with no handles and no locks. And suddenly you were everywhere. Your eyes were the only pair and your shoulder was the only one I wanted rubbing against mine. Your breath was synced with mine and your days were now ours. Your home had windows, windows that would open with no locks and windows that would stay open through the night. You’d walk in and grab by the hand and take me out for hours. We’d be by the sea one second and staring at the stars next. There was no limit to and there were no questions asked. Your home was chaotic and calm with a hint of lavender perfume in the air and a voice in my ears which always made my skin crawl and the hair on the back of my neck rise and that’s when I Knew that you should never build Homes in people because when you start slamming doors and shattering windows and painting the walls from red to blue and from blue to a pale grey, it Crumbles.

It crumbles beneath the sheer pain of abandonment and loss. It stands there on its bricks and mud trying to hold the life it contained within it, only to find that you can build Houses but sustain them with Life and only then can they become Homes.

I was Home and when you left, the doors broke off of their hinges and the ceiling crashed against the wall. There were shards of glasses everywhere. There were mirrors and frames and photographs and records and posters of your favourite 70’s rock band and that the last remnant of your most worn hoodie and your mother’s jewellery box which always had my ring. They were there but not anymore. They shattered under the agony of hearts falling apart and fates falling together and only then did I chant, “Never build homes in people, because they will burn and break and you will leave the four walls barely standing”.

You left a flight at risk without a fear of falling.

Advertisements

I wonder.

Look at us. Look at the distance between us. This distance; I can stretch my arms and cannot reach you and that is the definition of distance; to not be able your bones against mine, to feel the shiver down your spine go down mine too.

Look at us. How did we get this far? How did we get here at all? I am standing here and you are standing there and in between us there is this huge wall of hurt and remorse and pain and resentment.

You used to like me at some point didn’t you? You used to like nudging shoulders and having me close and having our breaths in sync, the rhythmic rise and fall of our chests; the slight smiles always on our faces. You used to like me before.. right? There was something and I didn’t make it all up. But look at us now.

I want to hold you close and feel your ache as my own and to feel the words coming out of your mouth fall right into mine and to understand your pain as my own but you are too fucking far. You don’t want me to share your parts anymore. You don’t want me to breathe your air and to share your moments to and stumble and fall my way into your arms.

You refuse to take me as your own and you refuse to acknowledge Us. You refuse you to take a step forward and you refuse to let me hold on. You make it hard on purpose and you make it impossible to leave. You reel me in and push me away and you slap the door only to leave it unlocked. You look straight into my eyes only to break away the contact and you brush past my hands only to remind me what it was.

You seep into my skin only to settle down but never going deeper than skin. You used to make up my bones and every fibre of me.

Now you sit in my skin and keep me wondering.

Here I am Alive.

Here I Stand. Relaying my words to you, reading out my story to you. Here I stand. Writing down all the words that I have ever known and all the stories that these two eyes have seen and all of the hearts that these two hands have held and all of the tears that have been shed from these eyes into these hands and have brushed against crumbled skirts and loose sleeves and have been shed for once and for all; never again.

Here I lay, beneath the open sky and on a patch of grass that isn’t the greenest. Here I lay and here I lay to tell you that the worse is yet to come and the best is always looming behind it. Here I lay to tell you that no matter what colour the grass is, as long you’re laying on it and you’re laying long enough to tell your story, You are enough. That is all that matters.

Here I sprint. Sprint away from all that has ever haunted me and all that will forever take away from me and all that has little bits and pieces of me and all that owns me. Here, I run away from them onto a place which accepts my broken and incomplete self because all that is broken does not need mending but healing. And all that is shattered will rise from the deepest browns of the earth and will fall upon you from the highest realms of these skies.

Here I fly, fly into the starry sky which has never once failed to awe me. These starry skies are my kryptonite and I shall never ask of you to come with me but if you may, my hand is held open and my heart’s doors always creak open for you.

Here I stop. Stop right in front of you and stop only for a brief moment. I ask you, “Are you here? Are you alive? Do you feel your heart racing and your body tingling and your ears thrumming with the beats of a new tomorrow? Does your mind say yes to your body? Do you want to get out of here? Do you want to go up up and away?”

Here I wait, Not for long, but I shall patiently and keenly wait for the greatest question of them all, “Here I am before you, Am I enough?”

What then?

“I am yours, don’t you see that? Everything I am and everything I will ever be; that is all yours, my Love. This is all of me and now all of this is as much Yours; if not more, than it was ever mine. You might not understand, but  everything I do,  reminds me of you. Everything I see, I imagine seeing it with you. Every time i listen to good music, i think of telling you about it so we can dance to it and every time I dream a dream at night and it doesn’t have you in it, I wake up a little disappointed. I want you, I want us, all of us and all of the friggin time. It is so bizarre imagining a life before you were here and It is almost impossible to NOT have you hereafter. And I am so scared that I more Yours than I am Mine and I feel like I can never reclaim my bits from you anymore and that petrifies me because what if you don’t want some parts of me and I can’t have them back and you decide to toss out in the trash. What then?

Everyone talks about the beauty and the happiness that comes with love, but no one talks about losing yourself to the person. Nobody talks about how possessed you feel and how Powerless that makes you feel. You are not in control anymore. And the fact that I am readily giving up that control and power into your hands with the key to my heart to you is a bigger deal than you could ever possibly imagine. This isn’t me. I am not mine anymore. I am yours and I am doing what I cannot control anymore. This; Me.. Is All You.

And I am afraid. I am so afraid and I am devoid of air in my lungs.  And what if you wake up one morning and you don’t want me anymore and you decide that out there is where you belong and all I am is just a mere reminder of how much heavy weight exists in your life. And maybe you won’t ever want to see me. What then? How do I walk again? How do I ever step out again?

Incomplete Sentences Forgotten Remembrances.

I felt a sudden sinking sensation, I always did, at around 2:09 am. The end seemed very plausible and very close at this time. The sky is always dark and these days, the moon doesn’t face my balcony which only adds to my suspicion.

I can see it, I can constantly see my life passing by. Its always flashing past me and I am witnessing it as I’m living it, as twisted and interstellar like that may be. I constantly feel like I’m not doing enough to make this count.. that my remains will account for nothing but a name. There are times when I want to scream and bang and yell and jump up and down until the whole neighbourhood is awake and i have somehow marked a day in their lives and in mine.. kind of etching myself into everyone’s lives.. for one fleeting moment. Something so big and momentous or tiny and miniscule.. something that captures the essence of being here. Something that is unabashedly me and that calls my name. Something that would make my friends shake their heads with smiles on their faces and say “Only she, only She would do something like this” and for everyone else who wasn’t my friend; get them wondering.

Yes, this seems very Augustus Waters like  but I don’t understand whats so wrong in wanting to be remembered and making an effort in order to do so. Leaving a mark is essential and not all of get a chance to.

And is where  Hazel would interject (somehow, only profound things came to her) “Am I not enough? Is leaving a mark on me not enough?”

Step in. Step Closer.

It may not seem like a lot, but I think about you. I think about you even when I shouldn’t and I honestly think about you a whole lot. Not in a creepy way, but in the kind of way where I can spend my whole day thinking about you and still not run out of things to think about; in the kind of way which is Consuming. just imagining the little details about your face or all of your moles or just the way that you are constantly laughing with all of your mouth just gaping open and for the world to see, making the whole room laugh around you and if you are going to live, Live in a way that is going to effect everyone around you.. live so that others have a reason to as well and live a whole and true life just for yourself.

And if you ever read this and if you ever find that you are thinking about me too, even in the slightest bit or even in the tiniest little thing that you come across in the street, then please don’t be a coward like me. please don’t just stare and wait for some hurricane to swing us into each other’s arms. Please don’t be me when you can be you and you can come and say that you think my shirt is cool or that hey, have you listened to Bastille’s take on the Scrubs or anything, but if you ever see what I do between the two of us and if I am too late by then, then please by all means, go ahed and do what I couldn’t and do what I have always wanted to.

Will I see you there?

I’ll see you at the beginning;

In between stolen glances and words which were mine even before you uttered them. Where your gorgeous eyes were only looking for mine. Somewhere in  between the slight brushing of the hands and the times where I would go back home and hold my hand against my heart and hear the loudest beats. Somewhere in between the words unsaid and the smiles that were intended for me and me only.

I’ll see you somewhere in my dreams where you would lay next to me and hold my hand and make me feel like all the stars in the sky were ours and the light from them was enough to keep us alive. And in that moment we felt like conquerers, where all of the world was ours and we were enough for all of its might. In that moment, your hand was all the power I needed to feel like that no unknown was scarier to break us down.

I will see you somewhere, where  all the songs were about you and all the words reminded me of you and your gorgeous hair and the feeling where my heart actually felt like it had left my body and was floating above in the sky and had left me down here to deal with the chaotic mess that I so often was around you.  I’ll see you somewhere, some where distant, somewhere far away from here, somewhere where we know no one and no one knows us. Of the past that we had or the life that we want to have. Somewhere where I sing in the morning and you hold my hand and dance with me. Somewhere, where our eyes meet and we instantly smile because this is it and somehow even though it shouldn’t be, you were my first and you were enough and I was enough for you.

 

But right now, you are yours and I am mine and we aren’t enough anymore.. We will take a while to get there, to be there, to find or way into the walls of the house that we may someday have, Into the wooden floors and the glass windows… We’ll get there soon. Just not now.

Holding on and Letting Go.

He sighed, exasperated after multiple trials and exhausted after no new discoveries from her part. She was getting harder to read, or maybe he was just getting more timid by the day. Who could blame him? She was too much to take in and every new discovery left him faded.

He tried once more. “What are you so afraid of? I’m here and I will always be here. Why can’t you see that?”

She looked at him long and hard. Then sighed. Looked down at her hands and start fiddling with her hair, never meeting his eyes. “I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of the rush and the pleasure. I’m afraid of not ever being able to love after you. I’m scared that I’ll give you too much.. all of it and when you leave, I’ll have none of me and everything of you and you’ll have all of me and all of you. How am I supposed to ever move past that? How am i ever supposed to pick myself back up and move forward and search for future endeavours? How am I ever supposed to go ahead and start new adventures and find new loves?”

She was almost crying. He ran towards her and enveloped her his my arms. “Why do you say ‘when’ I leave? Who said that I’m leaving? I’m not going anywhere. I’m here and I will take all of you and you will take all of me and we will both have way too much of either one of us and that is how we will live.”

 

2 years since, he had left, without any explanation.

They always leave.

[NOT] A Morning Person. 

I woke up this morning to a new me, one that was woken up by your snores. New me isnt annoyed, she’s pleased. She’s laughing to herself as she slowly runs her fingers over your lips while you look like you’re on a cloud (well, except for that snoring). New me doesnt drag her feet on the ground to get to the espresso machine; to actually wake up to this messy world. New me actually loves stretching on the bed while I sing the most annoying song, in full volume to wake you up. You wake up with that nasty grin on your face; one that reads that you’re going to get me back for this. You tickle me and tackle me until I stop and I tackle back; with heavy laughter, that comes from far deeper than the lungs. My heart is fluttering (which biologically isnt possible, but poetically; makes all the sense in the world) and my body feels so much more awake than those coffee grains have ever made me feel. 

 New me loves Mornings. 
-Footnote:

{This may not seem alot, But Better Mornings make for better Days.💖}

Snippets (1)

If you ask me to, I’d say yes to anything Love. I’ll cross oceans and travel a thousand miles to be with you. If you ask me, I’ll move mountains and tress. I’ll cross bridges and burn walls to be near you. Why don’t you see that as I stand before you; holding my heart in my palm, offering it to you with every ounce of being that I have. Can you not see this?