Smileblackfishblog

They say, the first time you fall,

You fall hardest;

Cause you’ve never fallen before.

Like a baby, each experience,

Brand new and exciting. 

Each hardship, the most

Devastating encountered.

Every emotion, every moment,

The most vivid they’ve ever been.

Colours, seem brighter,

Songs, happier,

The world, less frightening,

With you by my side.

They say the first time you fall,

You fall hardest;

But I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Standing at a precipice,

You at the bottom;

No one could have prepared me for how heartbreakingly lonely I would find myself in your absence

I am embarrassed by how much I miss you

Even though it has only been a few dozen hours since you’ve been gone

The space beside me feels empty, hauntingly so

Every spare moment my mind wanders to you,

The sound of your voice,

The infatuation in your eyes,

The gentle caress of your touch,

As the hours tick up, 

So too does my desire to see you again,

Only minutes apart,

Yet I long to hear your voice,

And yearn to see your smile

The space beside me sits empty

So I’ll count the cents,

And the seconds,

And the memories,

Until I can see you again,

I wonder why this is so hard to write. There are an endless amount of emotions inside me, pooling at the tip of my pen, yet refusing to share their secrets with the pristine page. How am I to describe such a feeling? I am surrounded, drowning, in thoughts; of you. How am I to express through words the way my heart jumps or my breath quickens at your touch. How can I transcribe the way my eyes soften and my cheeks flush at your gaze, or how a smile creeps to my lips at the mention of your name in passing. 

There is no way to truly express how your presence comforts me. Just the very thought of you puts my soul at ease. Your mere existence makes me feel safe.

Every moment beside you slows to a thousand. Stretching our limited time into a thousand perfect forevers. Every time. 

Yet every moment you aren’t around brings my world to a complete standstill. Each second seeming to take a million, each breath held longer than the last.

I’m not good with goodbyes. Something about the word, is so, Final. 

See you later, is a promise. 

A much more fitting end. 

so,

see ya,

later, 

I’m not scared of heartbreak, more, the unfamiliarity that heartbreak leaves behind.

an intimidation tactic.

Two lovers

Two friends

The bond they shared slowly corroded by the passage of time

It’s not the absence of the other person that is so devastatingly tragic.

It’s the loss of moments, the bonds once shared broken, the memories faded, that is tragic. 

Two friends

Two lovers 

We can chase the moon

If the sun never sets Our day never has to end

The sky will shine for you

Even if i have to pierce the holes  for each and every star myself

You can let go

I have the constellations to guide me

They map out our future  And conserve our past

They tell our stories yet forget our names

And when I can no longer feel your presence  I’ll place a star upon my tongue And let sweet memories of you nourish me

TW (spoilers) Guilt, Suicide.

   Going to the shore on the first morning of the holiday, the English boy stopped at the turning path and looked down at the wild and rocky bay, and then over to the crowded beach he knew so well from other years. He wished to go back to that time, live in those bittersweet memories, get lost in the glow of the sunlight. He had tried many times before, lost in thought, swaying with the breeze, only to catch a glimpse of fluttering eyelashes, honey coloured hair framing a smiling face. He looked down, his stomach swaying and knees weak at the reminder. He was about to turn back when his attention was stolen by a whisper of his name in the wind. The boy snapped his head back to the crowded beach, his eyes darting to find the source. There, standing amidst the crowd, piercing his gaze, was Loralei. The boy stood heart pounding as she took a step forward. Her pale skin, so fragile it resembled porcelain, had dark lines etched into it from her veins, filled with blood which had long gone sour. She seemed to part the sea of people bustling around her. The busy shore line somehow silenced by her presence; she moved with a force that made the ground shake beneath his already weakened knees, but nobody else noticed her. Cutting through the crowd around her as though everyone else was one mass, moving in slow motion. The boy, captivated by her essence, couldn’t figure out when he had fallen; the earth felt strained under his weight, cold and unforgiving. The ground had started spinning around him. Loralei’s pace hadn’t faltered. She was stepping towards him, each movement deliberate, seemingly moving faster than the crowd, yet taking an eternity to reach the boy. The boy's eyes analyzed her, maybe it had been a trick of the light, it couldn't really be her. The wind whipped her waterlogged hair in a furious cloud around her head; what had once been a soft honey brown looked black, tainted by the sea foam. Her clothes, tattered as though they had been laundered with rocks, were backlit by the sun, the light hardly interrupted by the fabric, as though she had been wearing glass. Her eyes, once as blue as the ocean reflecting the sky, had been overtaken by storm clouds, foggy and glazed over, ever unfocused, surrounded by the pink swollen flesh indicative of someone cursed by a heavy heart. She looked more stout than usual, water weight, she would have told him, if she would ever arrive at his side. As she approached, the boy lifted his head, and clambered over himself, cursing the sand which now seemed an enticing escape, stood to greet the person who moments ago seemed lifetimes away. They stood there for a moment embracing each other with their eyes. And then she turned to face the cliff.

“Why are you here?” Loralei sighed, “you won’t leave me alone…”

“What am I supposed to do Loralei?” The boy hadn’t taken his eyes off her, remembering her once elegant profile, she always seemed calmer up here, looking at the sea. “I don’t know what to do.” The air in his throat caught as he reached out to hold her.

“Move on,” she snapped, taking a second to slow her breathing, she continued, “please I just want to rest, this isn’t healthy for either of us.” The boy refrained from caressing her, her words echoing off the chasm below. Her inviting demeanor shifted, stiffening at the sound of his voice. Her eyes washed over him, relieved she didn’t meet his gaze.

“I want to,” he paused, casting his eyes to the ground, praying that the words would write themselves in the sand, “it’s my fault, you know, that this,” his hand gestured between them, “didn’t work out.” The boy shifted his weight, wishing he had worn something warmer, baggier, anything to hide from her icy stare. She bent forward, patiently, lifting his chin so she could examine his features. Sunken eyes with thick bags, a cruel joke left by the mistress of a sleepless night, his cheeks hollow, skin pale.

“Look Mallory,” he flinched at the sound of her sweet voice, almost sickeningly so, uttering his name; probably for the last time. She sighed as she continued, “You can’t blame yourself. After all,” she paused to look out at the sea, watching the waves crash down and the tide rush back - an invitation almost, the waves urging you to return to the sea with them, allowing herself to get distracted before deciding how to phrase the words Mallory so desperately wanted to keep locked away, just past her lips.

“All good things must come to an end.” She dropped her hand to her side, prolonging the moment by dragging her fingers along his face as her hand fell. “Goodbye, Mallory.” Her voice broken, forcing herself to look forward, she walked, no ground beneath her feet save the rock bed some distance below.

“Wait!” Mallory cried, hand outstretched towards hers. The ground beneath him, a shapeshifter, the holder of happy memories, a cold shoulder, a hiding place, now filled him with memories past, hope. It excited him, pierced through the cutting wind, filled his every inch with electricity. She turned, hovering still. Loralei and Mallory, like reflections in a mirror. Two worlds, unable to truly meet. Adrenaline. Tension hung in the air as Mallory prepared for the usual song and dance, holding his tongue in anticipation of the ironic words surely to fall out of Loralei's mouth.

“Come with me.” It was a bitter statement. Why give up what he had to follow her? Harsh, but what else could she say? Fate. A devil tempted too many times. What had come first? Their names? Or the destiny fulfilled by the ones beholden of them. At this point, did it matter? She was prepared for a battle of wills but he gave in at once.

A young man, not quite an adult, stood alone at a window, his attention fleeting. The wind danced with the leaves of a nearby tree, filling the room with the sweet scent of fresh greenery. Light, giving a golden complexion to the world, illuminated a smiling face; a boy. He had a mature face for being just shy of eighteen, rich brown skin glistening from the heat, his hair, a soft black, stuck to his forehead, covering his deep brown eyes, made even more inviting by the warm glow of the setting sun. He moved swiftly, his demeanor shifting from carefree to cautious once his eyes had met with the boys in the windowsill. Without a second glance at the boy above, he scanned the alleyway, before hurriedly climbing the stairs. As if in the same movement the boy was in the room and forcefully shutting the soft curtains. “Amin!” The boy said, analyzing the boy from the window. “This is reckless behaviour,” Amin reached for his hand but was met with a staunch glare. “Not-” he grabbed Amin’s hand and whisked him to the other side of the room, “by the window.” he finished in a more empathetic tone.

   “Always so cautious, Karim.” It was said teasingly, but stung nonetheless.

   “I’m just trying to keep you safe, I can’t lose you.” It was a harshly serious answer to what was supposed to have been a joke. Karim didn’t like Amin’s careless attitude, always so flamboyant and indiscreet out in public. It was the last time they would get to see each other before the Konkur, a four and a half hour long test that would determine whether they got into university or not, after which they would be expected to get married and start a family.

   “It’s the last time you’re ever going to see me, enjoy it a little!” Amin smirked at him, his eyes dampening as the words sat heavy in the room. The silence was deafening as Karim enveloped Amin in his arms and they sank to the ground. It felt like an eternity before anyone spoke again. The floor cold beneath him, this once special space tainted by bittersweet goodbyes. The room had been filled with a warm, gentle light, but the sun had bleached all colour and warmth from the room as it sank past the horizon. This should have been a joyous occasion. Karim and Amin had been seeing each other under the guise of studying for the Konkur all year, and now, they were going to take the test, the hard work was going to pay off. So why was it that he felt gut wrenchingly nauseous.

   “We could run away together,” it was Amin who spoke first. Karim couldn’t tell if it was the same foolish joke he had been telling all year or if this time he meant it. Amin’s expression was deadpan “we’ll go to Turkey,” he paused thinking of a way to convince Karim, “it’s safer there,” was all he could manage.

   Karim could barely muster up a sentence, “But, my parents.”

   “Your parents would throw you out if they knew!” The room filled with silence for a second time, a heavy fog obscuring their vision of the future. “I’m sorry,” Amin started, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

   “But it’s true, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. They both knew the answer, until then the words had been left unspoken. Ignorance. Much more blissful than truth.

“C’mon Karim, you know they only admit the top ten percent of people who take the Konkur, I’ll never be accepted.” there was a brief pause before Amin averted his gaze and continued “But you will…”

Karim stood, shuffling awkwardly, like they had never been alone together. “I guess this is goodbye.” He turned his head away as if sheltering Amin from his tears.

“I guess so,” Amin muttered, “I’m leaving tomorrow,” his voice, betrayed by emotion, caught, “If you change your mind. I’ll be at the fountain.” Dragging out the sentence in the hopes of elongating the conversation, he whispered, “We’d have to leave before dawn.” Karim crouched down cupping Amins face in his hands.

“Goodbye, Amin.” His words cut like a knife, severing any sense of hope Amin still had for their future together. “I love you.” He leaned in and kissed the tears off of Amins face and finally, taking a breath, left Amin alone in the room.

Amin wanted nothing more than to scream his name, cry out after him in anguish, run to catch up with him. But that would’ve been a foolish mistake, risking both of their futures, their lives, for something they both knew was coming. The inevitable.

The room looked barren now, a place destined to be demolished. The only testimony to their time together, stolen. They had found it as kids, a place to sneak off to, later they had used it for a place to be alone together, at first just to study in peace. A makeshift table and sofa lay in the corner; an attempt to make a more comfortable place to study, the site of their first kiss. Amin was flooded with memories, cascading through little droplets, forming a puddle on the floor. He looked around once more before checking the time. Twenty minutes had passed since Karim left, it was safe to leave, but he couldn’t manage to pry himself from the floor. His heart ached, not only for the time spent in this tiny room, but also for the fact that the room was to be abandoned; the little house for their future aspirations, demolished, just as their dreams were. Amin looked around, saddened by his now tainted view of the room. He had wanted it to live on, in his memories, a time capsule, their shared secret.

There wasn’t much holding us together in the first place. 

A shared eye roll or an acknowledgment in passing. Brief interactions spread out over weeks. 

Each conversation lasting longer than a smile, lit a beacon of hope.

Get to know each other. 

Become close. 

The rest was supposed to sort itself out. But now the candle has flickered out. 

The beacon dark, because, 

I’m leaving. 

Moving on to better places. 

Leaving you behind. 

I wish you knew my thoughts about you. Well, more accurately, I wish I knew your thoughts about me.

I wonder who I am to you. A friend? An acquaintance? Someone to talk to because no one else is around?

Did you notice? When I held your eye contact for a little too long and looked away meekly. When I asked you to repeat yourself three times because I kept getting distracted by just how much taller you actually are than me when standing so close. When I was too flustered to answer your question properly and just giggled while whisking away.

Do you remember those moments differently?

Do you remember those moments?

Were they just a passing in time to you? When I had to be acutely aware of myself to not melt in your presence were you functioning on autopilot?

I want to be friends.

I long to be more than friends.

How can you miss someone you don’t know yet?

My heart pines, for an unobtainable image of someone that I have created, a red balloon tethered to a stone with a neat little bow, weighing down in my chest.

My soul aches to feel your presence, longing to experience you, consume you, observe you.

I remember future events.

The feeling of your eyes dancing on my skin and drinking me in.

The feeling of my head rising and falling while listening to your lungs breathe me in.

It was dark. Not the kind of dark where the fear sets in that there might be something in the background. This was a lonely dark. I was the only entity around for light years. The stars around me shone, like twinkle lights, or the sun coming up after a fresh snow. There were millions of them, scattered haphazardly, as if someone had taken a handful of sugar and tossed it out onto a pitch black canvas. The most fascinating thing around, however, were the planets. They looked almost like gemstones, the light from the sun piercing through them, illuminated, casting brightly coloured lights that danced off my skin. At first, I marveled at the beauty of it all, figured I could sit here for all of eternity and not get bored. The sights never become less beautiful, just normal, mundane. I don’t know how I got here. Just that I must sit here; the watcher of the Milky Way.

It’s been enjoyable, watching the universe expand, the little humans, only here a short while, grow and develop. They’ve become infatuated with space. A place just outside their reach. Only a select few have ever come to visit me. I too once felt that same sense of amazement. The twinkling stars, the cascading light, the most indescribable colours. But, as time passed, the colours became muted, the opalescent planets clouded, the sun less astonishing, more a blindingly harsh light. Every single moment of mine, stretched out into a thousand. The sands in my hourglass flutter down like feathers, when I wish them to be stones. Every time I looked down at their little world, I could, if only for a second, imagine what it was like to be human. Their short lives, so insignificant, yet they extract joy from even the most meaningless of encounters. Tiny things, dancing, singing, drinking fermented fruit, and falling in love beneath the stars. The one thing we have in common. The stars. I’m not contemptuous, or bitter, I simply long for their ignorance. The chance to have my soul so fatally intertwined with another that I would rather cease to exist than go on living without. The thing that makes life so precious is the fact that it's limited. An hourglass turned at birth.

I lifted the sun, turning it between my palms, a smooth burning sensation. The thought had passed my mind before, I, never desperate enough to enact it. What use would a watcher be with nothing to watch? Praying that whatever being put me here was merciful, I closed my fist around the star in my hand and clasped as hard as I could. After a moment, a crack shot through the side of the sun, like a fire opal someone had dropped. Slowly, the crack grew longer, the star splitting and breaking between my fingers. The pain was excruciating, it felt as though I had taken shards of a thick glass and clenched them in my hands, even still, I continued. The pain was almost pleasant. After being alone for so long, any sensation, aside from the constant dullness of my surroundings, was welcome.

Writing is the fun part, it's where I get to see my visions come to life and dance on the page for everyone to see. It’s also impossible if I don’t have a solid plan laid out beforehand. So I sit, and comb over any lore that might be relevant to the story, and I map out the plot from start to finish, and slowly the story comes to me. And once the story is fully fleshed out in my mind, no longer hazy pictures or half baked flashbacks, transcribing the story is almost effortless.