If Love Is Pain Then Darling, Let’s Hurt Tonight 

She holds my heart in her hands and we sit to talk. I need to feel warm and she needs to feel safe. We are quiet at the moment but stars speak. Her eyes glisten like emeralds as she flips and turns my heart in her hands carefully examining it. And I’m surprised how there isn’t even one moment of fear that crosses my mind that she might drop it. Because I know with surety she won’t.

I have never been as sure about anything in my life as I am about her. I am actually glad she has my heart in her hands because I fear it’s her touch that keeps it beating. Without her love, there will be just colourless voids and a heart that keeps forgetting to beat.

So we sat to talk. We should have talked. We could have talked. But we didn’t. Instead we just lay together staring into infinite space that looked nothing less than pure magic. I wanted her to tell me things, anything. Lot of things. Everything. Just hear her speak. But her eyes were too loud for me to hear anything else at that moment. So I stared at her while she stared at the stars.

I didn’t want us to be mere accident like something that just happens one day unexpectedly. I wanted us to be on purpose- that just has to be for a reason. I wanted to love her on purpose and not like an accident.

She was a calm whisper in a world that was too loud. And although she was a chaos herself, I knew she could calm the storm within me.

She broke her eye contact with the stars and looked at me. And all it took was flash of a second, for me to know; I’d be a fool to let her go. Because she needed me as much as I needed her. And together, we were going to heal and glue back together our broken pieces.

It has always been her and me.

All those empty cervixes inside us that echoed with scars that still bled and thunders that still ripped us apart from time to time. It has always been her and me. And we, together, were going to heal.

Hence, she holds my heart in her hands to keep it beating, while I hold her close so she can breathe easy. I’m never leaving her side nor she needs to fall because she’s already safe in my arms. She doesn’t need to break herself anymore to prove anything.

I’m sure now, it has always been; her and me. And there is no way I’d rather have it be.

(Daily post: Corner, magnetic, homage, rhyme, critical )

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We Bleed (To Transform)

(Transmogrify)
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I don’t know what it is about blood. We claim it’s a bad thing yet we can’t stop bleeding. We let others wound us over and over again until gash is a foot deep into our soul. Sometimes we wound others and get wounded in the process.

We clutch tightly to barbed wires of emotional attachments and walk on the burning coals of expectations. And by the end of it when we fall on the ground profusely gushing and wounded to our core, we make promises to ourselves; never again. But as we all know, promises are made to be broken.

The wound is by now infected because you didn’t take care of it well. You didn’t suture it on time and you didn’t put the bandage when you should have. You just let it be; as a reminder of all the things you loved that ruined you.

We fall back onto bed made of thorns of disappointment, exhausted. And bleed some more. We bleed until we can’t. We ache until every muscle in our body refuses to ache anymore. We suffer until pain itself screams in pain. Until the infection has spread onto every small vein and down to our very bones. Until we find ourselves disintegrating- crumbling, decaying, withering.

But,
How else could we have become anew,
If we had not first become ashes?

Let’s Make A Change

(WPC: The SunShine )

“Let me tell you something: no one is going to look at you, broken and shattered 
and think -
damn, you are beautiful.
No one is going to come pick up your broken pieces off the floor and
 assemble them into a beautiful whole.

Hell,
 you won’t even look at yourself and think – 
I made broken look beautiful.

You know why?

Because all those writers lied to you.

Yes, 
all those with their poems of scraped knuckles and 
blood dripping down chins, 
pomegranate songs and loves that ripped through you like 
hurricanes.

Liars.

So you and I, 
we are going to make a plan.

You are not going to romanticize days when your brain tells you to smash that mirror,
You are not going to romanticize the lover who doesn’t understand you 
but still writes about you.

Here is what you are going to romanticize instead:
You are going to romanticize the first day of spring,
Its gentle hands all over your body,
Lifting you up until you are as light as a feather.

You are going to romanticize the tea and honey kind of love,
No hurricanes, 
but sunshine that builds you up from within,
That helps you make it through the worst days.

You are going to romanticize gentle hands of a friend 
in yours,
Telling you that it is going to be okay.

Because it is.

And don’t trust poets, 
we’re no good,
 we love pretending that our jagged edges tantamount to a beautiful disaster, but in reality – 
there isn’t nothing beautiful about shaky hands holding a cigarette and 
empty eyes staring at the cracks in the walls.

You know what is beautiful, instead?

The days when you can look at yourself in the mirror and smile, 
scars and all.
Music that makes your soul flow like a river, 
books that offer comfort, 
families flocking together like overgrown birds to keep you safe and warm,
 friends that give you strength when you can find none, 
lovers who make you laugh through tears.

Baby, 
from now on 
you are going to romanticize healing;
Honey dripping down your fingertips,
August nights that stick to your skin, the day you find your purpose, 
long car rides and singing so loud that no one can shut you up now.

Bad news: 
no one is coming to save you.

Good news: 
you can save yourself.”
– Lana Rafaela (via wnq-writers.tumblr.com)

( Daily Prompt: Millions )

Rain and Reflections

(WPC: Mirror)

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She was sitting on the chair that barely fit her balcony, her feet perched on the damp rusted railing. It had been raining since morning. She was onto her sixth cigarette and her first glass of whiskey, befuddled about whether or not she liked the rain anymore. Rain drops slipping down the glass window like their words that used to slip down her heart. Effortlessly. Some words used to scratch and claw at her throat as she would try to swallow them whole, like gulping down warm beer. Some words were like silk being dragged across thorns. Agonizing.

Her loneliness. That emptiness. That’s why she smoked. To fill those empty crevices that people left, with toxins. A splendid metaphoric reminder of how they took away her pieces and left her with nothing in return. Not that she wanted anything in return. Or maybe just love? Only love. Oh maybe she was asking for far too much, that silly girl. Who could have given her love? She was one glass of bourbon and one line of cocaine away from death. Hanging on to life by a thin string of her loneliness. That stupid girl.

Back to rain, so she kind of loved rain. It was an excellent accomplice to her demise. At least it was there as she cried. A perfect muse, to mask the tears.

But she kind of hated the rain, it reminded her of her solitary confinement within her own self. The way it would cover her feet with mud reminding her of how unclean her soul was. Fuck, she needed to drink more. She needed to drown her soul clean, even if it meant baptizing herself in poison. Rain was too pure for her. She was too contaminated to be cleaned by something so pristine. Maybe gasoline was a better option. Or even better, absinthe. She was meant for things like absinthe. Or rather things like absinthe were meant for her. That was the only thing that could handle the mourning in her every breath. Everything else was too feeble for her prowliness and too languid to supplement her solitude.

She was sitting on the chair, her legs crossed that once used to wrap around sheets so damn perfectly, her hair that once used to be gripped with conviction, her eyes that once used to reflect constellations, her lips that once used to bleed with passion. Now, everything seemed senile in that deafening silence that surrounded her. So she just smoked some toxins and drank some poison, and just hoped for the suffering to seep out of her being, pore by pore.

Beautiful People

Weekly Photo Challenge: Optimistic
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I read this line somewhere, “Beautiful people do not just happen” and I realized how incredibly true that is. Beautiful people however, are mostly those who are broken and patched, sewn and torn, in all the different places known and the unknown. Who carry the scars of the heaviest dirtiest battles they have fought- some won while some lost. But in the end they have learned and conquered, what we call life. They might not have the essence of life all figured out and known but they do have it experienced down to their bones. And maybe that is why they have a much deeper understanding of the human conditions rolling down the road, waiting and craving for our attention.

These beautiful people are worth fighting for- lest you find them. And once you do, hold on to them, for they are far and few in between. Cherish them and make sure they know they are loved. Because you see, Love is what they lack most, the love for themselves mainly. Most of them can’t see the beauty in their scars and shinning bright light in their eyes filled with universe of wisdom and deep thoughts. So make sure they know they are loved, because love is the only language that transcends time, space, present and the past.

Beautiful people do not just happen you see, there is a reason why they are a little lost- trying to find a place in this world they don’t really belong. They are lost all the while showing way to others, you know what the secret is? We all get lost, to get found. So hold on to them and don’t let go- a little warmth is what they need from being out there in this cold wild world, for far too long.

Beautiful people are what make this world a better place to live in and on.

This goes out to every beautiful person out there- for whom every day is a struggle, sometimes easier while sometimes a little harder. But they greet the world with a smile on their face nevertheless and the sun shines a little brighter for them while the sky opens up to embrace them in it’s infinite vastness.

These are the people worth melting for, as Olaf had once said.

Let’s Try

Maybe rather than trying to fix your whole life, you can try to fix it piece by piece. Maybe instead of trying to remove every single bad moment from your memory you can try to add good one’s. Maybe we should try to pile up good things so someday we would over come all the bad things that ever happened. Maybe all we can do is try. It IS all we can do. So let’s try, let’s pile up the goodness and happiness in hopes it would someday weigh on the sadness. Let’s do, shall we?

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Human Nature

Good Day

For me any day spent watching the sun go down is a good day.

For me any day spent watching the sun go down is a good day.

It’s very easy to like people, to love them. ‘Love’ not just the relationship and romantic kind of love: love in so many colors, in so many layers, in so many different ways- in a broader , wider, vaster perspective. I never understand why we label love as something to do with attraction and personal attachment. I think it’s very easy to fall in love with the way someone’s smile lights up the room, to fall in love with the way they listen to you and understand, to fall in love with the way they are kind, humble and compassionate. And all of this without the typical standards in which we label ‘love’ or Maybe that’s just me.

That is not what I want to write about today though, about how easy it is to fall in love for people. But how easy it is to fall out of love for them. And again “Love” not in it’s typical sense. We get to know people , we start to like them, we make a certain image of them in our minds that they are like this, they aren’t like that etc. So basically we hold them to certain standards. Which is a part of human nature and completely understandable. We can’t help but expect them to behave a certain way, the way we think they are supposed to act all the time. But then one day, we see a completely different side of them. A side we had not seen before, a side which is usually dark, twisted and a destructive blow to the standards we hold them to. And we think this is not the person we thought we knew. This person has changed or this person is completely different from what we perceived earlier.

So just like that, in one moment, we start to think differently of them. Which up until now is not in our complete control. Our human nature which is flawed and defective plays a role in changing our perspective of a certain person. But it’s alright. It happens.

What we do after, however, is definitely in our control. At most if not at all. I’m in the process of learning and understanding human condition takes a lifetime, but I’m sharing what I’ve learned so far. I’ve seen from experience that what usually happens is that we run the other way, we essentially fall out of love of the traits of a person we initially loved. As our perspective of the person shatters, as the standards we held them to; they fail to meet, we just leave them to be and look the other way, thinking this person was not who I thought he/she was. And just like that we turn our backs. Isn’t that what usually happens? I think in most cases it does. More often than not.

One slip of a moment is enough to let us fall out of love for a person. We see the dark side, we see their demons, we see them lash out, we see them flare in anger and…poof.

At this point, is where we can change. The point which is mostly in our control. We should hate only that one trait of them rather than the whole person. Let me correct myself, Hate is a rather strong word. We start seeing them in a different light. We see a side we had not seen before and we define them by it. We define them by a moment they slipped up.

We have to realize that we should to let a moment define others, we should not let a moment define ourselves. A moment is just that; A moment. And that’s it. We all have our demons, we all have our worse nights, we all have our worse days, we all have a dark side.

What would it make us as a person if we ran the other way when we caught a glimpse of their dark side? Who doesn’t have their worst days? Who doesn’t struggle with keeping a straight head? Who doesn’t lose once a while to their demons?! You do, I do, We do, All of us do. Each and every one of us is struggling one way or another.

What I’m trying to say here is, rather than falling out of love for them, we should probably love them a little more. We should love them enough to defeat their demons. We should love them more so they know that they are allowed to lose it once a while and still not be judged by it. That breaking down is fine. That it’s very human to do so.

We are so perfectly imperfect, flawed, glitched, crooked, fallacious, awry, confused and so much more. Much much more than those few words and that is what makes us humans at the end of the day. Nobody is perfect, we say and hear that a lot. But I think very few of us truly believe in it. Very few of us truly understand it And very few of us are willing to hold people to the imperfections in their nature.

Loving people when they least expect you to do so can do miracles. To love people- when they can’t love themselves, when they run out of love for themselves, when the dark side takes over, when there demons have their hold- is the best thing you can do to another person as a fellow human being. And that is exactly where the perfection in the perfectly imperfect nature of humans lies.
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Note: Special thanks to my twinnie Maria for helping me 
realize all that.

She Walks The Earth

Weekly Photo Challenge: Beneath My Feet
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She walks the earth with eloquence and grace.
She passes me by as soft as the wind,
And I can’t help but get shivers down my spine
As desire churns deep in my belly.

This woman- I’m going to have her.
Not because of her undeniable beauty
But because of her soul.
Which she strips bare,
As she walks down the halls.

They way she talks- her lips parting and that half smile.
The scars she carries adorns her skin,
Are only visible to those who dare to look close.

This woman- I’m going to have her.
And then I will strip her bare of all the masks she once wore,
I will let her see herself the way I see her,
By letting her look deep into my soul.

I will have her see her reflection in my eyes
And I swear….
It will be the most beautiful image she will ever see in her life.