long nights (pro)cured the protagonist’s echoes;
those hours when we were too afraid of dawn,
too afraid to count out the seconds
& let time run its course
intricate shells were cracked wide open
by yet another clumsy footfall
& a lopsided smile, jauntily misplaced
beneath the floorboards
our teenage dreams stayed
rubber-stamped & swept away,
our secret a tangible thing —
(or was it)
night falls, thickly
with a taste of tangy orange
that masks the lump in my throat
while I think about
saying goodbye to you, predestined,
in the early hours of morning
discomfort slouches at the back of my neck
& I tap my nails on those angular customs
as I see myself squirm in this crammed space —
You and Me were all sepia smiles &
so much more than worn wooden benches
I will keep our moments
in a pudding cup,
squeeze them joyfully
a little too hard
& still raise your voice
long after the silence.
once
I buried you
in the shallow waters
below the bridge &
when I hung my head in shame
I could see your frown deepen,
touched by the current
your gaze lingered
throughout the years, never wavering
beneath those watered-down ripples
while I closed my eyes
& burnt my heart
now
you & me
gather pebbles from the riverbed
(like long-lost treasure),
for they cradled your love for me
while I was Gone.
___________________________________________________________
For my Friend (capital “F”). Thank you… from the bottom of my heart.
Never ever want to lose you again. xx
vital
are the days
that seem to end
in no tomorrow ~
when a friend’s hand
crumbles into dust,
holding yours
there might be
pain ~
cloaked and hooded,
hidden from the light,
but there is also
radiating truth.
preach to me
in utter silence ~
resemblance, though shared,
counts for nothing;
the listless, featherless bird
feasts on
moldy bread
and
poisoned water
i know which day it is.
of course i know.
i’ve had this queasy feeling in my stomach all week.
last year, i sent you a postcard from this spanish island – and i wrote it in tears.
this year, i won’t even do that.
i don’t know if you even deserve it if i say happy birthday – no, i won’t say it. you probably don’t.
i guess part of me wants everything to still be okay.
we were friends… after all.
ah, i think i’ll just wish you a *blank* *blank* (whatever that might be) and be done… i’m not really sure why i wrote this…
had to get it out of my head somehow, right?
have a nice life. ???!!!
sincerely,
someone you once knew
the ground screams crimson –
a battle’s aftermath,
fought with teeth and nails
remnants in ashes,
merciful wind takes over –
and i am
relieved of duty.
the wolf howls
one last time –
no longer
will the cries be heard…
for i am deaf
to these calls.
I am pissed at someone.
royally pissed. (so pissed, that I will even use capital I’s for this post.)
since this is my cave, I decided to spray paint the walls black and red for a little while… because I really need to blow off some steam.
let’s call this person The Smurf.
the smurf and I went roller skating… for about 3 years. It was great in the beginning – and I mean GREAT… you can’t imagine how much fun we had.
Then came the time where the smurf faced a really steep hill – one, the smurf had no option but to go down. I made sure the 
smurf didn’t fall too hard, took care of the smurf’s boo boo’s, applied more than enough band-aids for a lifetime and basically tried everything to keep the smurf off the concrete. it was fine. it was a pleasure for me to take care of the smurf – because I always thought that the smurf would do the same for me. the smurf did in the beginning… and i was happy.
the hill really was steep, but the smurf mastered it – bravely.
the smurf stayed off the ground.
recently, I had to discover that the smurf also looking out for me wasn’t true… not anymore. I got unstable, took a tumble and fell right on my butt, while the smurf stood idly by… not offering a hand, not even a word. while I had a fresh wound that needed patching up, the smurf was still too busy licking his old wounds and wallowing in the pain they caused.
I do know that some of the wounds the smurf suffered needed stitching and they still need time to heal… but I honestly have no idea how the smurf got so self-centred… and now ignores – and insults – the ones who care about the smurf, whom the smurf once deeply cared about.
sadly, the once so wonderful, caring and friendly smurf now looks like this:
and I am simply sick and tired of looking like this:
I can only hope the smurf will come back around, because underneath, the smurf is beautiful. until then, I will stay away… and let the smurf be grouchy.
if the smurf never comes back… well, so be it. nothing I can – and want to – do about it.
rant over.
now, back to whitewashing my cave’s walls… maybe not white yet, but a brighter shade than black and red… until the storm clouds pass.
i will go now and tape my scowl away… hope i can find tape strong enough for that.
___________________
photo credits: internet
the doormat
doesn’t say “Welcome”,
not anymore.
as if i
would be able to look
through the windows ~
now fogged up and dark.
i try,
but even squinting,
i fail miserably.
the brick wall
grows thicker
every day
and i wonder…
why now?
somebody help
the transformation to start
and bring
gray flesh
back to life.
mind stops spinning
and for a moment
you see
the face… so clear
you run
as fast as feet may carry
into the tornado
your thoughts provide
…
you don’t want to see
what once mattered
for you fear
its claws
upon your flesh.
the stone
doesn’t weep ~
its surface
is not soft and smooth
the ice
is so cold ~
try to lick it
and your tongue gets stuck.
once i was allowed
to read and admire
the pages
now
i am forced to stare
at the dark cover.
come sit with me
for a while ~
join me
on my tree swing
and listen
to the song of dusk.
come sit with me
for a while ~
watch sky’s colors change,
slowly going dark.
come sit with me
for a while ~
and soothe my thoughts
with your mellow tongue
that i may
find peace and comfort
beneath the stars.
come sit with me
for a while ~
until the night settles in,
my head hits your shoulder –
and i sleep
a dreamless sleep
cradled and safe
beneath the old willow –
with you by my side.
don’t call me missy!
i know not what i did…
don’t call me missy!
oh, i hate the sound of it.
don’t call me missy!
but just because it’s you…
you can call me missy
it’s a joke… between us two.
isn’t it cruel how memories can sneak up on you sometimes and hit you full-on in the face?
that just happened to me. ugh.
one moment you’re doing fine, everything’s wonderful and comfortable and then… BAM! you’re taking a blow to the head and find yourself with your butt on the ground wondering what the hell happened.
i think the past 3 years just hit me. sneaky bastards. wow, that was a bad time.
i am happy to say that this part is over now.
still hurts, but i guess that’s okay.
isn’t it just wonderful how certain things just pop into your head sometimes and make you laugh?
i had a conversation with a good friend of mine today. we haven’t seen each other in a really long time and for the past couple of days, he’s been trying to get his computer to work so we can video chat for a bit. no luck so far.
he told me he gained a couple of pounds while he was away and since he’s always been rather slender, i’m curious what he looks like now.
so today, i did him a little favor and ordered him something that will surely make it easier to get the computer working properly again.
he always gets a bit grumpy when i do stuff for him… but in a good-natured way. it’s funny when he does that.
so, of course, he asked me why i did it… why i felt the need to help him out.
and this line popped into my head…
“I did it all for the belly.”
we laughed.
i love when things like this happen… how the little things can brighten your day in such a huge manner.
i am thankful for my friend and that i get to spend time with him again.
oh, and i also think that “I did it all for the Belly” would be a somewhat great book title.
i’ll definitely think about it.
Another Wandering Soul 