Dear Lover

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Please feed my soul or I’ll be forced to let go

Wasted are my thoughts. Thoughts of those who weren’t worth my time. Empty shells have come knocking, but once they saw my spirit they fled, leaving less then dust behind. There is one, who is different from the rest.

He does more than feed my soul, he nourishes my psyche. He loves me wholeheartedly. I whispered words of affection into his ear. And he asked me to say them aloud, strong and clear.

“Dance with me, transcend with me, challenge me, be everything I ask you to be, be more than what I ask you to be, be song and dance for not me, but for you. Be life and death with me, progress with me, kill time with me, intertwine both our minds for me, smile with me, cry with me.

For you, I would write a million poems because there are simply not enough words to describe the type of being you are.”

Some say truth hurts and a lie is bittersweet, but I would rather you, be honest and kind to me. Say what you mean, don’t be silent because in this moment, there exist just you and I. In this space we share, this small amount of time. We are in unison in almost every kind of way. We are limited, when it comes to how long we stay. And he never calls me beautiful, because beauty never lasts. But he calls me, his and I tell him every night that he is mine. For we are flawed and free, but unlike our flesh, this love will always be.

Give them a smile

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He stares into the mirror. Unable to recognize the man, who looks back at him. The joke. Dreary eyed, the skin of his eyelids so thin, they appear transparent. His lips stretched and black, form a smile curling to the tips of his ear lobes. His eerie laugh transitions from laughter to a painful screech, lastly fading into a soft distorted whimper. He knows that he must wipe his tears. “The show must go on.” He muttered. He applies the chalk white powder onto his already dried, lifeless skin. Smearing black circles around his eyes and red paint onto his lips. He smiles, remembering a time when his teeth were not rotten and his spirit was youthful, filled with life and passion. Those days are long gone now. A red curtain behind him is all that lies between him and the act. He exits onto the stage, filled with fraudulent laughter. The audience loves it, but does he?

The creator

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There’s nothing I want more than to be closer to my creator. For you have shaped my skin and bone. Made every beauty mark and scar. You stretched out the subtle space between my two front teeth. You made my hair so wild, it even defies gravity, and my skin the very shade of the earth, that we walk upon.

All this, so that I would remember to love myself, never settling for less than I deserve. You made sure to send people into my life who would help teach me, patience. Molded me with kindness and fire, so that I could push through adversity. You made a rough draft of my life, crumbled it up into a ball and said, I’ll let her decide. Whether she will or will not follow all my signs.

Love me either way, but constantly remind me that really, truth and raw beauty lies inside.

you melt me

We had made eye contact more than than once, twice. Now going for a third time, our eyes locked like lions on the prowl. My eyes wandered from his hair line, to the bridge of his nose, down to his slightly plumped lower lip, where I then looked away. Across the bar, he sat with two other men, friends I assumed. They were way too busy debating, who would win the football tournament to notice the exchange of our hungry looks. My friends, on the hand, had abandoned me to go dancing on tabletops with all the other alcoholics. His eyes caught mine again… glazed over from being lightly buzzed, I guess he was an alcoholic too, but it didn’t matter to me. The loud music blaring static in the background didn’t matter, neither did the sixty year old drunk over my shoulder, who insisted on buying me drinks the whole night. None of it mattered. All of a sudden he bit down on his lower lip, so deliberate, so sensual. It seemed as if we were in a room all alone, lit only by a single candle, with the faint sound of harsh acoustic roots and blues. This is what I imagined of course, none of it was real. I can remember, wishing I too was drunk like all the others, so I could muster the courage to walk right up to him and demand that he come home with me. But I wasn’t drunk, matter fact I was 100 % sober. Sober, miserable and lonesome staring into the eyes of my dubious, impending lover. Would he come to me or me to him? I played the various scenarios in my head over and over again, but still nothing. We both sat quietly at across road, waiting for the light to turn green. Hours later, I was calling a taxi for my two intoxicated friends, so my poor car seat wouldn’t receive, yet another victorious stain and that’s when he appeared. Locking eyes again, he paused and then continued to enter his car, speeding off into the night. “Well that’s that.” I thought , getting into my car. While driving, I approached a red light. Suddenly, I heard the revving of a car engine and there he was sitting to the left of me. He rolled his window down and with a smirk asked, “Will you come home with me?” I looked down shyly, then back at him, the light was green and we both sped off into the night.

His lips were on mine, before we even entered his place. The taste of his lips so soft, but threatening. His tongue and mine intertwined, as if it were fate that had brought the two together. His hands searching his back pocket for a key, distracted by the feeling of my waist, my hips pressed against his. I distanced my lips from his, allowing him to open the front door. He hit on the light switch, then gestured me to enter before him. It was small and crowded with piping still exposed. He reached into a cabinet behind the door, pulling out a match and lighting a candle in the middle of the floor, I turned off the lights. “So…” he whispered softly walking closer towards me. “What’s your name?” I looked down at my feet searching for the confidence to lie. “My name? My name is … um Honey.” I lied. “Honey, huh? Well, don’t you want to know my name Honey?” He grinned. “Um no… no I don’t. I think it’s better that way, don’t you?” I responded nervously. He stepped closer, his hands drifting from my face to my hips to my hands, guiding me to his bedroom. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.” He mumbled. It was in that moment, that I felt a rush of anxiety, like I suddenly forgot how to breathe. “Do you have a bathroom? I just want to get more comfortable…” I muttered. “Yeah of course, it’s to the left.” He replied with a confused look on his face. After entering the bathroom, I locked the door behind me, glaring into the mirror at my own reflection. What was I doing here? How did I end up here? I splashed cold water onto my face, prying farther into my own thoughts. Was I really going to sleep with this man, this stranger? I have never done anything like this before, this daring, this stupid. These were the types of situations I was taught to avoid. I’ve never been so trusting, why was it different with him? I was completely drawn to him, for reasons I, myself were unaware of. So many thoughts raced through my head. Was this just a physical attraction, lust? No, there was more, or was there? Why did I allow myself to get to this place. He could be a murderer or a pervert, I had to be smart about this, I thought. I started to pace back and forth, back and forth, until I stopped, took a deep breath and slowly opened the bathroom door. The sound of smooth acoustic was playing on the radio. I walked back to the bedroom in nothing, but my fine silk lingerie, to find him passed out across his bed. “Beautiful…” I whispered. Then proceeded to lie down onto the sofa in the living room.

The next morning I woke up to the sound, ‘Like real people do’ by Hozier, birds chirping and the smell of burning waffles. I lifted my head from the sofa to find him standing there in the outfit, only God could design. “Good! You’re awake!” He shouted. “And you’re naked!?” I squealed covering my eyes. He busted into laughter. “So you’ve never seen a naked man before aye? I cooked breakfast, I think they’re a little underdone.” He said cocking his head sideways, looking strangely at the scorched waffles. “Under?” I chuckled. “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you, I feel so dumb… I mean, I don’t even know your name.” I said shamefully. “Well, I would say we are in the same boat… HONEY?” He laughed holding my driver’s license in his other hand, giving me that same devilish grin. “Looks like you’ve been waiting for the light to turn green. Well, what are you waiting for, honey.” He whispered placing the burnt waffles beside me on the sofa. I smiled slightly and then our lips met. “Can I ask you a question?” I asked pulling out of our embrace. “How would you describe a kiss like ours?” I muttered kissing the sides of his neck, up then down, then up again. ” Like… fireworks, you know like a star waning with countless titanic explosions, a supernova. A gentle, but fatal supernova.” He whispered softly in my ear. His hands held me so gently, so close, so warm. I was so much like the candle lit in the middle of floor from the night before and he, so much like the match.

“You…You melt me.” I smiled.

The story of the sun

Once upon a time, there lived a star. She was obsessed with the idea of love, so she would watched as all the other stars shot across the galaxy to meet one another in unity… But because she was too fearful to give her heart away, too afraid to join all the other shooting stars, she waited and waited, until she grew older. So much older, that all she began to attract were cold, small, lifeless rocks. She unknowingly began to warm all the rocks nearby with all the things she imagined love to be like. These rocks would soon form an orbit, all rotating around her light. But her poor heart, she kept it in a jar protected by a ring of fire. Far from harm, but also so far away from love. And this is the story of the sun and how our planets were formed.

Dragon’s breath

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The walls of all the ancient kingdoms have now fallen from grace. Our ancestors thought themselves as God and built structures and carved stone, painted sensations and wrote history in the most poetic form.

How do you follow greatness?

How do you overcome the fear of your own failure?

Do we resist it, do we remain stagnant, so that we may never fail?

Do we push through?

Persist even if the end isn’t ideal? Try, even when our outcome is defeat?

I will not attempt to be great like my ancestors, imitate any one form of art. Instead I aim to capture my rawness in its entirety and take that fire, that electricity and hone it. Then when the time is right, (if there ever was such a thing) I will spew fire with every breath I take. My fire will find its way on to paper, and that is where my legacy lies.

All that is left when I am reduced to blood and bone. The sweet soil of the earth.

All that will be left is dragon’s breath.

Burning Paper

The room is dark.

Lit only by the faint shimmer of a candle, burning.

I had wrote something melancholy, but full of life and passion for you.

I planned on leaving it somewhere I knew only you would find, but then suddenly I changed my mind.

Anxiety creeped up over my shoulders and and found its way inside. Underneath my skin.

Will he appreciate your words?

No.

Will he think of all the time that it took you to write such a profound letter?

No.

Would he…no he couldn’t possibly understand or care about the thoughts that dwell in your mind late at night that provoked such a letter.

The embodiment of romance, I thought or maybe it’s a representation of fear.

Fear.

That’s why it’s burning.

That’s why the faint shimmer has dimmed and the light that once lived has receded.

All that lives here now is fear and girl trapped in her mind, in a dark room