#somethingjustlikeit

#10

(Epilogue- Something Just Like It.)

Look into your heart my love.

Does it feel harder than it was, or has it crumbled in your chest?

Dust seeping through your veins, out in the breath of all that has been done.

The words an assault you needn't face. Yet one that you must; because it's true, isn't it?

The flowers that died today, the air that left their lungs, the words that slipped right off their tongue, the stars that no longer twinkled in their eyes-

You were the one who planted them.

You were the one who lead them on, the one who placed those glittering stars, where they never really belonged.

How is it their fault then?

You were the one with lists and checks, expectations laced with longing-

You were the one that held on despite the warning signs, weren't you?

Prophecies from the holy, warnings from the learned, books for all occasions or the lines of long lost poets- none can revive the flames.

Now that all is said and done, for you the road at it's very end-

Flat piece of Earth, nothing to go around-

Nowhere to go but down- isn't it a bit harsh my love?

Not a single acknowledged sign yet the Brook no longer seeks the sea around his shoulders, no longer between the flowers grows he-

Isn't that what they always feared.

Spring is gone and winter is here.

So tell me now, how does it feel? Having been run over again and running over someone else as you seek for love or something just like it.

Leaving them completely delusional, plain and barely two dimensional.

Tell me how it feels ,won't you?

Seems like that's all you can really do.

#6

I wrote something in pink today.

Like the colour of the sky at sunset, like the crayon in my two year old hand.

Pink like the ribbons, like pale frosting on red velvet cake.

Pink - what looking at you feels like.

I wrote it, erased it and then rewrote it twice because it is nothing but a silly thought. People cannot feel colours can they?

A colour so bright, so high, so strong, they can hardly believe it.

Longing too leaves a taste in my mouth, cold, metallic

Blue - this I swear is true.

I write it and erase it again - people can't taste colour, can they? Ice cold, blues and greys alike, melting on my tongue, yet freezing every fiery syllable my heart screams to let loose.

Maybe if I ate some yellow, I too would feel warmer inside, warmer than I do tonight.

#8

It's coming to an end, isn't it?

This romanticizing of ideas we call love, has lived its life and fled the scene yet again, hasn't it?

He says so with wildfire in his hair, a piece of minty gum in there somewhere, the flicker of a lash and a tilting of the sky, everything he wants in the blink of an eye - Deep in thought, between the flowers he grows. A brook flows around him and seeks the sea as the sun shines around us, halos are seen.

He tilts his head and furrows his brow-

It's over, isn't it? Answer me now.

I feel his ire, there's heat in his cheeks, above me he towers yet seems so meek.

He huffs and puffs as I settle my shawl, stars fall out the sides- of course it isn't over, don't you see where we are? We'll be here forever and live with the stars.

What happens in the winter?

"Stop it, will you?" I exclaim.

#7

We met in a distant country, no reason nor rhyme, just passing like strangers before the other catches ones eye.

Then suddenly we are floating back-

back to the very first time.

The first time that we really meet, the first time we collide.

You don't apologize, neither do I.

Apologies are wasted when lungs breathe fire and storms, thrashing around for air.

You clear your throat, I fix my tie and now I don't understand why they said it was inevitable for love to shrivel up and die.

Your heart it pleads through lowered eyes and mine finally gives in; Oh what I'd give to forget it all and touch your glowing skin-

Oh what I'd give for a chance to shed it's layers and finally go inside your tender cage for love where your heart resides alone-

To climb into your skin and feel as close as close can be and not be sat like strangers, stirring unwanted cups of tea.

I look up and you catch my eye then ignite an unknown glow. These tears flow down our cheeks tonight for reasons we don't know.

#5

Long winding roads covered in white, cold and chilling yet somehow invite my heart to wander under the moonlight-

Saunter around the stars travel through this night.

White sandy beaches,warm and alive, bustling with activity and freely flowing wine. Fingerprints all over us, ones no one will find-

Tracing every feature and line.

Walking down a street in the middle of the night, dancing in the spotlight of a lone street light-

Touching, loving, living we're alive.

My heart always knew how to, but yours has made it take flight.

These are some of the things I say when sometimes my insides ask-

Do I really want this? Will it truly last?

#3

There are certain things in the world that render some speechless and make poets out of others. Things of beauty, all around us yet nowhere to be found. They call us strange when they hear us talk about what beauty really is to us, for they don’t really see it- Don’t see the love flowing out of each pore of being they dismiss as plain, the fragrance of wild flowers. Don’t see the intensity of a lightning bolt cracking the sky open, only to stitch it right back. It’s strange what this has awakened in me; the beauty we ignore while we can, ridicule when others feel it, yet bask in its glow as and when it deems us worthy.

I feel colours. I see fragrances. I touch the melodies I float in. All sense mixing in this kaleidoscopic storm of rocks and petals, colour and dust, lighting, nights, thunder and mornings brighter than they’ve ever been before.

It may be my humanity, causing a misty haze in my mind, I’ll never know if it’s real. However I know that what I feel right now is too good to be true, too new, too much- It could easily be love or something like it but I’d rather not find out.

#4

They raced like drops of water on glass, heavier as they moved faster towards the end. The anticipation did this to them-

It's the power of being apart.

Rational they're called by the day, too responsible to be this callous-

But they feel glitter in their veins at night, confetti hearts over bare skin, lungs full of roses, thorns in every breath yet eyes as bright as the rapidly collapsing stars.

They feel the butterflies that were talked about, they flutter somewhere in their throat.

It's more the idea of you that drives this show- the idea of what could be.

It isn't going to end well, they know as do you.

But you see starry nights in the mornings and flowers in deserts , you see light in the darkness and waves where there are none.

In this together, neither knows what happens next.

#2

Rising Sun, dancing stars, waxing moons and the fresh ocean breeze - these are some of the things I use to describe the way it feels when I hear a string of syllables in various languages and usually no context strung together by a familiar (Now) voice. Silly butterflies flutter (Figurative of course) Hearts race, eyes clench and ears perk up a bit too. They move to collect it all, to store it in a tiny part of my mind so that I might remember this.

It isn’t so much about you as it is about how it feels.

A cool glass of water, a warm mug of tea, chocolate melting on my fingers. Maybe snow melting off a tree, on seeing the Sun after days of grey weather. I don’t have much to compare this with (Reluctantly Romantic as I am), my heart’s unmolded clay, some day I may not remember this, maybe it won’t matter some day.