Blaze.

It's a slow burn,
A flickering light,
Like the smoulder of fire,
Kept through the night,

His touch is not static,
It's dynamic yet slow,
Gradually losing control,
To that fiery glow,

Turning doubts to ash,
And settling in the haze,
Lost in this gentle,
But heavy hot blaze.

The best kind of break up.

I watched a movie tonight called "Celeste and Jesse Forever" that was sweet and sad and funny and honest.

It is about a break up between two people who are essentially soul mates and best friends and how each of them copes with moving on from the relationship.

It made me think...all break ups should be like theirs.

Wouldn't you want the last thing you say to each other to be 'I love you', whilst accepting that now it is over and you both have to move on?

You could leave knowing that you have left a piece of your heart with them, and likewise you have a piece of theirs. Forever.

The perfect break up.

Instead, it seems that break ups are too often nasty and whatever love was there to begin with is buried in the aftermath.

I cried because I wish that this movie could be true in life, whilst I know that it is unlikely that it ever will be.

Friendships disintegrate. Relationships break down. We all have to move on.

Thoughts on life.

In life, in this moment breath and mind come together to create, leave a fiery path of passion behind you. Believe. Leave only memory of the way you lived. Live to leave memories. Love, and love, and love again. Become a little more broken each time you lose but find someone capable of holding the pieces of you together. Smile. Frown. Laugh. Cry. The passage of time is better marked on your skin with lines than ink. Be unwise to find wisdom. Accept your fears and then beat them. Always learn. Let new information become a part of you. Create. Do not expect breath to last because one day it will be gone. Breathe deeper. Live.

No words.

Thought I had better write an explanation for why my blog has been so neglected lately... It's a shame because I love writing and it's almost a form of therapy for me. But I'm doing my honours project this year at university and I think all of my words are going to be taken up in that 10 000 word thesis due in October. Yeesh.

Also, I just can't write when I'm happy and life has been pretty alright lately I guess :) There might be the odd procrastination post every now and then just before exams come round. For now, I'm just looking forward to the day when I have more time to myself and can get stuck into writing for myself again.

Until then.

Tears in the darkness.

Nighttime slid, darkly through the window,
Glanced out as I pulled the curtains to,
And saw the star shine pouring down,

Thought of how this once was always,
Staring, lost in thoughts and words,
And puzzling life out piece by piece,

Stuttered start, trying to get the words out,
Feelings that scratch under my skin,
And eke out in the form of tears and the truth.

Love.

It's the moonlight cutting through a gap in the blinds that I can not close and shining right across the bridge of my nose in otherwise darkness.

It's the joy of fitting exactly perfectly into your embrace and not ever wanting to move no matter how much it aches.

It's tracing your name into the grain of the wood of the table with my nail and wishing it was a chisel instead so that I could make it permanent like the way you're etched into every stray thought.

It's staring at my phone wondering why it is silent still and checking it compulsively for no reason other than the thought of you.

It's feeling your heart beat and pretending that it beats just for me.

Uninspired.

There is something lost and dull about this place. It is the only place uninspiring enough to inspire me right now. Turns out I can't write when I'm happy. At all. So I have to seek out these feelings of loneliness. And nothingness. And maybe even sadness.

There's too much light in that other place. There, I don't have to turn to the solace of a blank piece of paper and my favourite pen or a blank Word document with flashing cursor to turn these train track thoughts into something solid that I can get over.

I have writer's block like nothing else right now.

Out of sync.

If you knew how it was,
To feel so mangled,
Then why did you let me,
End up this way,

And how could you,
With your distant vague promises,
Let me fall down,
For something that is never close,

Crashing hard and fast,
Love and life shattered to pieces,
The only person who could,
Fix and put me back together,

Too far away to know.

Chocolate.

I look across the horizon. Against a backdrop of pearl-grey clouds is the burnt outline of branches, brittle and clenched to a trunk that is bleached and cracking. The sun causes the air to shimmer in waves that resemble the cracks in the baked clay of the land rather than waves of moisture. There is nothing else, just the loneliness of that tree, lost in a landscape to which it does not belong. My eyes stray from the desolate setting contained within the wooden frame, where the grains whorl and strain towards each other but never quite meet, and into your questioning glance.

Your eyes are the most generic brown, not clear or bright or deep. They are not the richness of varnished wood or the clarity of hazel. They do not see past the carefully constructed mask of vagueness on my face. They do not see my soul. They are brown and they are lost and they do not know how to save me.

I am as alone as that tree, seated inches from you with your body turned to me and eyes unblinking. There is a need in the tense of your body. I can feel the conviction of your belief in the lukewarm air between us. If only our skin would touch, by accident or design, across those miles of inches then the situation could be saved. We could believe in each other, in not being alone. It could be mistaken for attraction, this tension between us. But it is not. Because I feel nothing.

There was feeling, once. I remember when there was anticipation between us. When our bodies strained towards each other and our skin was as a stranger. Your eyes were warm as chocolate and I believed they knew me. I melted like your eyes in the sun, liquid and deep. We could not be contained nor did we explore further than ourselves. We lost ourselves to life and found each other.

Now we balance on the precipice of losing everything. Our everything has become each other and it is not enough. The realisation that I know you precisely, down to the millimetres of space with which we lived between us, is overwhelming. For every second of your life that you have spent with me, I feel like I have known you a minute longer. You. You do not know me at all.

You lost me. You are losing me now. I can feel tears in the corners of my eyes as I open my mouth to explain. Your eyes are more lost than before and I can feel the tension turn to disbelief. I wonder if there were a rewind button in life, would I press it now. Swallow up my words and fix us. I know if there were a replay button in life, I would be us again. Just for one more memory of our first glance, a situation reversed. My eyes lost, yours a deep fondue.

I turn back, once. Just as I reach the door, hand outstretched to exit. You are still watching me. I do not know if it is a memory or the truth, but your eyes are the colour of chocolate.

Be mine.

Burn fire

Ache

Millimetres

Miles apart

Your warmth

B l e e d s

Into air

Unwanted there

But desired

Intoxicatingly

Suffocating

You

Care less

Free

Could you

Be caged

Locked

In arms

Heart mind

Mine?

Just for le jour de la Saint-Valentin.

No posts til the 25th...

Just thought I'd write a quick note to let whoever's reading this know that because I have no internet at home at the moment, I won't be posting any pieces until late January at the earliest. Just so there's no needless stalking (that's you anonymous!).

Your happiness.

The happiness you hand out is fleeting. It feels plastic and mass-produced. Made in China. It is brittle and easily broken. So easily. It is transparent, and still would be even if there were depth to it at all. Thin and sticky as toffee, it clings and leaves a noticeable mark. A mark that stains. It leaves a taste in the mouth, sour and at times over-sweet. It is tinny and always stuck on repeat. One wonders if it ever was, is, or will be real...

Happiness. Joy. Pleasure. Cheer. Glee. Delight. Ecstasy.

A kiss.

Want to take your jaw into my hands,
And catch your breath between my teeth,
Make you open your mouth,
And let the words on the tip of my tongue,
Trace the shape of your lips.

Backseat.

You're the emptiness of the seat beside me.
An itch where my fingers grasp empty air.
The flash of a streetlight into shadow.
A yearning for something that just isn't there.

Mess.

Fighting back the tears,
That sting and burn my eyelids,
From exhaustion, anger, grief,
And all I know is,
I just have to get through this next day.

Shimmer.

Is it really true
That everything that shimmers
In this world
Will fade
I'd like to believe
That the sun of a smile
Will always shine
Even if it's just
In my own orbit
And that the murmur
Of some voice
Will always turn my head
Sending shivers down my spine
Putting a sparkle
In my eyes
Even if it's not always you
That puts it there.

There's 7 billion people in this world, so why are we so scared of being alone?

Doing my thing.

I got a new pen today.

Oh yes, I did.

In time.

Sometimes. Time moves so fast, it scares me. Then other times. I look back and time hasn't changed at all. I watch the hands of the clock move the seconds of time away. I panic. Where is time going? I look again at the clock and only a minute has passed. I think about the seconds that count and the ones that don't. Or do they all, and I've just never noticed...?

Watching you pass by.

I long for things,
I left behind,
But have to wonder,
Were they ever really mine?

You move so slow,
You cut so deep,
It makes me believe,
You were just that way with me.

Dilemma of a listener.

Those people, the ones who are always there. The ones who listen, comfort and help to find a solution. What happens when everyone they were there for have other people to fill that space. What happens when all those people that needed a shoulder to cry on have found someone else's to cry on instead. Do they find someone who will be there for them? What if they can't? What if they spent too much time listening instead of finding someone who will hear them...?