Open up the photo album half buried on the shelf. 

Blow off the dusty cover. 

Turn a page and lightly touch the yellowing pages. 

Remember another time. 

Smiling faces buried in the sunlight, blurred. 

Daisies stretch towards the sky.

Our first words and our first memories

Caught a bird, mid-flight

Take a step back, look with new eyes 

At old familiar stories. 

The photographs tell a well known tale

From the half I'd never heard

The pages fall like leaves, the spiral unravels

I see now all I'd missed

These people, these places and all these nights

You're the ghost haunting these scenes. 

New meanings, new feelings, an altered imagination

Both the sweet and the sorrows

You've been beside me all this time

I just haven't noticed.

Turn to the last page, with its empty pockets

A strange silence falls...

Inscribed in the blankness of the pages

A thousand questions with a thousand answers. 

A heaviness, a kind of sadness

That just lingers out of touch

But I know you better now,

That's all that matters. 

final call

We find darkness in the absence of light.  We find  hopelessness in the absence of faith. My dear,  even my cries are not enough.  Better to smile on all the smiles to show we are of better kind.  To light the candles and stow away the shadows in corners stand. We are not one flame,  but still flickering, we are not one beat, but patter like raindrops against the cold tin roof.  The concerto nearing is final chords,  the grande finale,  the fretful minute of silence,  then curtain fall.  Who to bow to the fan fair then? Yes,  better to smile on that charming smile my dear and bow amidst the cardboard roofs and plaster walls.  After all it is your charade.  Placate me.

Paris: Something New

You never quite forget the first sight of a new city.

It was a cloudy day, and the plane had been folded in a blanket of clouds both above and below. We could feel the plane descending, but saw no evidence of this through the grey windows.

Then, in the predawn light, a threat of light through the darkness beneath us. The thread brightens through the thinning clouds, and all of the sudden the clouds part, and a web of fire scores the earth. We see the grey relinquish the city as if a pair of hands parting to reveal its sheltered treasure, or as a flower's petals unfold to reveal its honeyed center. The city burns beneath us, brighter than the eastern glow that had chased us halfway around the earth. Each thread, joining with each other, converge towards the center of the city, and along each thread, hang a string of golden pearls.

Ah! Paris. No wonder so many fall in love with your fair visage.

Shackles

My heart stops the moment I realised that you’re so much bigger than me

Sinking under the weight of all those responsibilities

My, my, my how do you swim?

How can I compare the width of your shoulders to mine, they seem so puny

How can I share my burdens and my fears?

My, my, my how do you sleep?

Though you love me now, I can’t help but think that I’m not worthy

I can’t begin to imagine drying all your tears.

My, my, my, how do you live?

I’m so sorry my dear but I cannot help you lift your wings,

They are held down by things much bigger than I’ll ever be

I’m so sorry I said all those things without knowing why

Sometimes life gives us no choices but I cannot give up mine. 

Difference between current and desires states.

Oh, but for a moment of clarity.
To see the clouds part.
To stand under the bright sun.

Oh, let the light stream through me.
Illuminate the desires,
I know naught of.

Oh, may the murky waters part.
Reveal the riverbed.
All the sunken trinkets.

Oh, but my dreams only fade.
The waters churn grey.
The clouds grow dark.

Dear little porcelain doll
Won't you look in the mirror?
And tell me how your skin glows.

Your midnight hair
Your cerulean eyes.
God I hate your perfect curls.

Write down your thoughts
What fills that empty head?
The word 'obedience' on blank paper.
Your glass eyes stare ahead.
Better not to think instead.

They might drag me away
But you'll just sit and stare
On the mantelpiece, above the fire
In that little dress you wear.

One minute, the world seems to gleam like a pearl, perfectly cupped in your hands.

The next, it crumbles to sand and leaks through your fingers.
The next, you clasp at nothing.

An Essay on Friendship and Love

Where would we be now Darling, if we'd found each other first. 
- Good Charlotte 

This blog is not for semi-cryptic emotional outpourings of melodrama, and I sincerely apologize to my future self (and any other readers of said blog) for this anomaly.

I don't believe that it is quite possible to turn around one morning and decide that you see a person in a completely different way. I believe in feelings, in sparks. Two people who have known each other for so long cannot help but establish familial feelings, worse than hate or pity in deterring love. For me, any initial romantic feelings had been but circumstantial and fleeting at best.

 A friend once said, and I concur, that the only difference between a deep friendship and a deep love is sexual attraction. But which is to come first? Perhaps, then, when the first condition has been fulfilled, will the second necessarily follow? Or will it be wishful thinking on the other's part. A friend is a friend for life, and too often than not, a lover is but a wistful dream th`at leave us shaken and brittle upon waking. Upon attaining deep friendship then, what is the justification for wanting the latter? Amusement? Physical satisfaction? Possession? Love is born from deep seated trust, deep seated admiration and passion. The latter is the only one which cannot be nurtured over time. Or have we simply been unable to recognize it?

It is difficult to learn to see in another way. There are many doubts, and many inhibitions. I know the pains that must burn through your veins sometimes; I have had the poison in mine too. I know, and I cannot unknowingly pass into ignorant bliss. This makes me not what I am, but someone baser. In you, I had seen the potential to transcend beyond the parts of me that were driven by meaner impulses. Or is that consideration purely egotistical on my part?

You, too. You have moments of loneliness. Perhaps you merely see potential where you wish to see them. You may be rapt by the idea that the one who understand you has been here all along, and you've merely learnt to recognize it. Maybe you've simply resorted to settling for something more realistic, leaving behind the wild fantasies of childhood, thinking that I am the answer for that deeper bond you search for, simply because I have been here. Consequently then, I would only ever be loved as an idea. So many fears...

It is as if our lives were contained in storybooks. We had started to read one, gotten about a paragraph in, before digressing to another wrought with the same characters. Then, during the crux of the second, we had again resumed the second paragraph of the former, trying to block out our assumptions and start anew. You have a past as intimately entwined as I. How do we put our insecurities behind and live beyond that? The shadows of the past will forever stalk our actions, and already, we see vague, dismal mists in every corner. Suspicion and disappointment already colours our darting glances, clouding our midnight reveries and haunting our silent fears. You possess not the affirm confidence I had so admired, and I have watched you shrink into a shell. This identity is strange to me. Be callous, be rude, be who you once were and I will like you the better for it.

In the end, I am still left with more questions than from which I had started out. Will the lessons of leaping before looking be forever attached to this 'leap of faith'? Will we part breathless, friendless and shattered? If so, who will you or I turn to then?

And there she is, behind every closed door. 

Is this what growing up is about?
Realizing there is no eternity, no certainty, no room for promises,
Only maybes, what if's
and we can only promise to do our best in the situation
Perhaps it's about the changes
Change is the only certainty
And living with and despite it
Losing security, and be okay with it
To feel five and twenty five within seconds.
Just let it wash over and let it be.
Struggle along the best we can
block out the noise of failures.
It's a choice between ignorance or floundering in the dark...

I'm not sure I want to grow up.

Inhibitions. Indecisions. Visions, revisions. The next minute will reverse.

Cycling. Circling. Spiraling retraces. The next the mirror of the first. 

Closed doors. Shattered panes. Painted windows on empty floors. 

Up. Down. Left then right. The dancing compass. Bending halls. 

Long for days of iced cream. Blue jeans. Dreaming in musty bookstore stalls.
Big screens, small rings. Dresses for that summer ball.
Blink and now I'm watching summer fall.
Back to the promise of forevermore.

It's a daydream, one way street, so tie your knot to another door.
Wishes, kisses, go back to the one you'd left before.
Walk away from those never-ending calls. 

Montage

A chronology: meeting between two strangers

I. A Movie
Soft, dark shades. The previous disgraces. A hard day.
I ran, and ran, and ran.
Collapsed into the open arms of friends, and was suddenly surrounded by warmth.
Your smiling face from across the room. Puppy piles and puppy love.

II. A Taste
Lingering thoughts. Endless, endless thoughts and words that could not tumble out fast enough.
The path to truth never did run smooth, more like. I was muffled by the excitement, and my reason washed away with the tide. Thoughtless. Maybe I would've seen...

III. A Simplification
Blue skies, bright eyes, and all the wonderful feelings of freedom. A day without a clock reminding us of the things we need to do. Sunset, seaside, songs that we sing. Simplified.

IV. A Complication
Robert Frost: 'The Road Not Taken'. I'm buffeted on all directions. You don't understand. Nonetheless, we hold on. Hand in hand, we will stand strong.

V. A Photograph
Lights, night, harbourside. Dreams that make us feel alive. Throw into careless abandon, just one more time.

VI. A Scene
Golden light. Green grass. Blue skies. Whispered words, hand in mine. This clipping we took from a drama and pasted into our lives. Twenty minutes should never end. In that moment, we needn't die. Gentleness.

VII. A Moment
Sigh, cry, blame the fates if we must. Nothing's going to change and it's all begun to rust. Days, nights, blend into a palette of grey. But that's okay. Out there is the promise of sometime and some day. Until then I have the strength of words and wishes from far far away. I'll be far far away, and you won't stay.

VIII. A Future
Unknown

________________________________________________

All that separates a stranger from an acquaintance is a greeting.
All that separates an acquaintance from a friend is one trusting moment.
All that separates a friend from family is shared blood.
All that separates a friend from a lover is a kiss.
All that separates you and I are time for all these things.

The weight of our loss drags behind us, while the memory clings on. We trawl through the atmosphere as we weep, as we walk. The black feather dips sadly to the clop of the horses hooves. The tar dipped carriage ever squeaking in the cold of the morning. The air catches our breath and freezes it, as if time itself halted for this moment. Give us a little more time to catch our pain and absorb it, instead of letting it wreck havoc in our lives.

The cold November morning was glazed with frost.
We lowered a black box into the ground, and then covered it.

The little irritations. These little tribulations.

Pick up a smile, and just leave it for awhile.
Sweep the shards underneath the carpet.
I can't see or speak clearly right now.
There's no point trying to clean up this mess of myself.
I'll keep my troubles in a box, and hide it in the shadowy corners.
And maybe one day, it'll heal itself.

But for now, smile on all those smiles.
Trying to keep up with each tick of the clock.
I'll fight hard to get back what I've lost.
Face each moment with the courage I've always known.
Stare down each hurdle, each challenge is my own.
And maybe one day it'll come back into my arms.

There comes a moment in each day, when I pause to think of you. Sometimes, it might be when I walk, as I recall a past conversation. The gentleness of your smile, the wrinkled on your hands as they once enclosed my minute fingers. Then, the blunt weight of your passing bludgeons me. I stand still. 

Sometimes, I would stare blankly at the red houses lining the street. Their facades a delicate shade of pink. Or the gingko swaying softly to itself in spring. All of these things bring you back to me, and remind me of my loss even more. 

They bring you flowers, they bring you fruit. But between ourselves, we know that there is nothing greater beneath that inscribed stone than the ruins of a mortal shell. Daily, I offer you corn, walnuts, and other sweets. You'd always liked those better anyway. And daily, I know you will smile back at me, though I am beyond your reach, and you mine. 

And I know, though you do not read my tongue, these sentiments and feelings will be universal, and the pictures I describe of my memories, speak endlessly to you. 

I do not wish you rest, though it may be filial to do so. I wish you gentle happiness, something you will perhaps appreciate a little more. It is at times like these, that I wished I believed in that eternal garden. But if anything, your existence gives me the faith I need. Surely, the gentle hand will pass over your eyes, and take you to a better place of no suffering. You are not lost. Of that, I am sure. 

Just as the giant oak falls in the wood, so your place is emptied in my life. But still, after the storm, there will stream in sunlight through the canopy, and things will grow. I will grow. 

Life and Death

Oh, Mother!
Life and death are bestowed in the same instance.
Just as the child breathes his first breath,
so does he breathe his last.
The first sickness eats away
until we are dust.
The young lover's words die upon his lips
just as they are uttered,
and the lilly upon his dear love's brow
withers as it blooms.

All our joys, our fears, ambitions, sympathies,
all men's feverish ardour brings,
what are they to us,
when we are taken cold into sleep?

So rises the sun with beams of gold, and across the sea,
golden beams fade and the same sun sets.
And yearly do the bluejays sing
and yearly do they, frozen, fall.

All that separates the vital child
with blushing cheeks full bloom,
from the wrinkled, white haired,
wind whittled crone...

The clocks, the chimes, the ticks and tocks
They echo through all the halls
Cheerful cuckoos cluck and mark
One more step towards the dark

A candle burning, a pin of light, we are
This flame will not last the night.
Yet still we cling to man's invention
Swept up as we are in time's flooding tide.

One Way

I met this boy when I was only barely eighteen
We met under the moon on a one way street.
And we can, we ran
In the only direction that we could see.

We saw each other again the very next day
Held the other's hand as we sped away
Feel the wind, the air
There was nothing that we needed to say.

We kissed for the very first time under the stars
It felt so warm being held tightly in your arms
So we stayed, so still
Till day broke and the sun rose over the hills.

Two years  passed and things just aren't the same
Every word annoys you and all the jokes sound lame
What can we do
When we've only got  bad tempers to blame

A day barely starts and we're already at it again
You're tearing apart just as I'm starting to mend
Why won't this stop
When there's no love just around the bend

I'll make a resolution to bring you around
Hush dear now please don't make a sound
Just hear my words
Bring back the love we'd found

Now we're here in the silence staring into space
No love no hate no regret etched on your face
Where have you gone
When did you leave me behind in this race

Some time later I realised that love is a cigarette
The spark of feeling that ignited when we met
It burns, with every breath
Ticking off our time into ash on the cement

Yet, we're so hooked
We look, for love
For cover, while we cry
Apart, sitting side by side
Just waiting for the other
To tell the first lie

Some times in winter I'd stand by the door
Wondering what all those fights were for
It seems so strange
We'd choose the tears, the screaming and the pain
All those times we left each other out in the rain
To wait
I'd go back, go back to say to you
The times we loved well were too scarce and too few