Category: writing

you and I

On this rainy night, slowly descending into the earth I play the same waltz over and over. My hands bled from the strings and my heart from the ache. Each note a token of my affection I send to your ears. Hear my song tonight, all night and the next. Every single night forever more until this waltz is the language we share and the only words speak are poems from the romantics.

A Folie à deux.

simple pleasure

Your kisses can take me away, someplace else

another dimension, only we know.

Your eyes usher me in, piercing my soul

looking away would only hurt me more

Tell me how you light the darkness up,

and how you bring flames underwater.

How does the winter seem like springtime?

and rain seem like sunlight?

Dark wood burning

and the smell of candles

Deserted streets

and the break of dusk.

I see you in the most delicate things.

When it is mundane

you are there to make it,

extraordinary.

time

The sun has not risen yet, the birds are not chirping; the world outside does not know it is almost morning, we still have time. 

Why does it go so fast from us? Always slipping away. For us, we are always chasing another moment, wishing it was the one before. 

We know we can never go back, and we cannot go any faster; yet we still pray that time bends for us just this once.

 

Time is a deviant, it plays tricks on lovers; when they are apart it stretches itself as far as it can so one minute is a million. But when they are together it shrinks itself up until there’s nothing left.

Maybe it is jealous?  Maybe it is lonely? Here from the beginning and here till the end, with no one as constant to company it.

 

Time is as desolate and unforgiving as a dessert; forced to watch every sunrise and sunset alone, to watch lovers dream of one another, to listen to sonnets and musicians play ballads.

Brought here by some unknown power and bound to govern us all; we curse it out for its very nature as well as beg it to obey us.

Yet time is not free like us we get to do as we wish. We get to rise when we want and set when we please.

 

This morning when our sun rises and our birds start to chirp, let’s watch it with time and let it pass without willing it to change. Let’s not wish for more, let’s not beg it to slow down.

The morning will come again for us and we will have our moment once more, because time is precious to us and one day we may have no more.

the way home

These days are so long

and my legs so weary

i wish you were here

to carry me home

 

a hazel hue to light the way

my voice, a guide

travelling fast enough

to beat the break of day

 

when we arrive a bed awaits

and there, we take rest

a side for each of us

a sanctuary for lovers

 

we fall asleep

and we hope we meet in our dreams

because even in sleep

we can’t bear to be alone

the rain

It is raining now, pouring.  The kind of rain that lasts all day; the kind that wakes you up in the morning and puts you to sleep at night.

The kind that washes all of the day before away, all of the worries and all the pain. Everything that was consuming your mind, gone. The kind that leaves you cleansed.

It is the rain that quenches the thirsty trees and brings flowers back to life. The rain at the end of winter, heralding springtime.

The rain that just falls and falls and falls, it seems as if it will never stop. The kind of rain that falls so long, the skies turn grey and you forget what the sun looks like.

And then, it stops. Just as quickly as it came, and as fast as it fell, it stops. The skies turn blue and the sunlight pierces through the clouds.

Suddenly you are grateful for the rain, because you know without it, you would not get see what always comes after.

a rainbow.