Tag Archives: writing

Without a Theme

Life, flashbacks, revelations. What happens next? The night is young, the days so long, and here we stand, hand in hand. What happens next? This is right before I met you, this is right before I looked into your eyes. I saw the colors of the sky, I saw them glimmer and reflect, the sky behind me, the red and the orange, the purple and the blues, mixing together, like freshly poured acrylic. Is this the world in your eyes, is this the life I see before me, playing out, in sync, in reflection, apprehension, playing out like a movie, flashbacks and fast-forwards, hand in hand, we’re hand in hand.

I asked him softly that night, “Does it get better?” He was asleep in my arms so he didn’t hear my words, but he held me closer. I thought to myself, this must be okay, this has to be okay. Does it get better? I left the past behind; it came slowly, the acceptance. I left it all behind, reveling in the freedom as I shed off the veil, as I shed off cloth after cloth after cloth. It was wonderful to bathe in the sun as if it had never shone before, all over my skin, heat crawling in my blood. Something was happening; my life was changing, it was changing. 

Now the days are passing by so fast; barely time to breathe in the air. I’m caught in a dance, the steps, they take me from stone to stone over still waters. I’m happy here, I’m home here. Laughter, joy, belonging; I’m happy here. I ask him softly every morning, “Is it a dream?” I think to myself, this must be a dream, it has to be a dream. It’s the sound of the rain calling, it’s the chill from a broken dance, but the pieces are coming back together and I’m dancing, I’m dancing, I’m dancing on the gravel, I’m dancing in the grass, I’m laughing in the sunset, I’m sleeping under the stars, dreaming under the stars. I’m dreaming under the stars. I keep dreaming under the stars. I’m painting the story of my life, I’m writing the story of his, I’m keeping him forever, in the pages, in the words, in the mind and memory. I’m keeping him forever, I’m keeping this forever, this never-ending dance, I’m keeping this forever, the everlasting dance.

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Poison Ivy

I’m hallucinating, today.

Last night I fell asleep under the influence of this strange and sweet liquor, Liquor 43 it’s called. Before I slept, the world was normal, but this morning it was surreal. The window was frosted over so I never looked outside before venturing out.

But I could swear as I walked down Maxstrasse, I saw ghosts. Ghosts strolling through the streets, ghosts whispering together as they walked past me. Something was terribly wrong. I had walked right into another reality – where all of them were dead, these people – all of them were spirits. Life was in monochrome, fading in and out like the reception from a 1986 Sony Trinitron – like the little one that used to sit in the living room when I was four. But in 1986, I wasn’t even born. These must be someone else’s memories.

Lost in thought, I never saw him sneaking toward me – a particularly nasty ghost, grey blood pouring from his mouth and the bottom of his ghostly eyes a well of dried tears. “Whore!” He was screaming. Was he screaming at me? He lunged at me and I braced myself for the charge. But it never came.

He had gone right through me.

Into the Woods

Into the Woods (2015)

I honestly don’t know where to begin.

It was like walking a trapeze. One slip, off the edge of the bed, and everything falls. It was a performance, it was a test. It demanded my attention, demanded my time. A walk here, a footstep there, no slip-ups, no mistakes because those cost. A step into the fake life, a run into the fake world, a smile or two and everything was ashes. Ashes. The sky was dark, out in the wilds, it was full of stars. Black tights and a skirt too small, darker than black and face paler than ash. Out in the wild, out in the wild.

I knew this would happen, when the string would finally break, hanging by my fingertips and I finally let go. Falling, falling now and everything is crazy. The harsh glare from the overhead lights, the mist from the breaths, the mists over the windows that tilt and I stare out. Nothing but darkness but inside there’s light and there are sounds. A pounding and a bashing, marks and they’re slashing, like streaks of paint, like streaks of color, polluting the air. Blood pouring from the cracks, sounds weaving in the cries that round and round and round and pierce my own ears. I knew one day it would happen. I just knew it.

It was a short story. It was a story. It was nothing and there I was. Middle of the fields and nothing but falling leaves. Middle of the world and nothing to hang on to. Middle of the darkness and shining like a beacon. Not calling for help and waging this battle. Not crying, not wailing, not moaning but inside, inside I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding.

I walk on. He appears next to me. He’s tall and dark, just like I always imagined. He holds my hand and I lead him on, on into the fields. Let’s walk on, darkness is falling. It calls, it calls. Let’s walk on, I tell him, and silently, he follows me. Into the trees, let’s disappear, let’s get ourselves lost from this fear, let’s own this forest, let’s own these woods. Into the darkness, into the winter gloom, into the barren wasteland, into the dark, dark mists that surround my mind, in which I see you, in them I need you. I need you. The rain is blood. It was raining blood. His skin was pale. Not a drop touched him but over my face, the red spread, and it spread like doom, and pain, and death. Smeared all over, falling, falling, falling.

We took one step forward and a thousand steps back, a million steps and into the blackness of the end of everything, of the end of the way he held me, end of the way he kissed me, end of the way we lay together and memories glimmered, glimmered overhead, in an old film, blackened at the edges and cracks all over. Ended, it ended, while we were there, while I was there, while he was there, holding me down and I didn’t ever want to leave.

Yesterday’s Silhouettes

Cherry Wine (2015)
Cherry Wine (2015)

I reach out to him but he says no, don’t touch me. I think to myself, we don’t have to spend too much time apart. I think to myself, we shouldn’t have. I’m covered in symbols, head to toe, I’m covered in symbols. Sometimes it’s a Celtic knot, sometimes it’s a forsaken stone. I say to myself, this is who I am, I say to myself, this is who we are. Surrounded by words and letters, clouds and dreams, hazy- it gets so hazy. We walk around town, we look at things, we feel together but we’re separated. I think to myself, how lost do you feel when you sleep at night? I think to myself, I’d stay there, I’d not let go. These past nights, I had all these dreams that told me strange things, and I searched for myself and I saw him. Hold my hand, baby, hold my hand, said I, in my dream. I’m asleep when I’m awake and awake when I’m sleeping, life gets pretty confusing and here I have a pair of wings, and I set off, high. I still see him but he’s a little far now. The shadows ain’t so scary baby, I say to him, the dark is pretty, I try to tell him but I fly so high. Lights glimmer out here baby, I miss you. Wish I’d told him a secret before I flew, wish I’d told him more. Then, think no more, right into the sky I fly. Soon, we’d both forget, I know.

Sunkissed

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Sunkissed, I was kissed by the sun this summer. I felt the last rays of light drown me, it was the embrace of an absent lover. I remember crying, I remember tears falling, like the rain in fall, cold and wet. I remember laughing, like the ripples in a lake, growing and growing. For the first time in a long time, I felt the force of wings that held me up and the height from which I saw the world made my eyes tear. The clouds that I used to fear, grew thinner and thinner, and the cold that kept me awake at nights, disappeared. I’d like to tell you that I loved you and a whisper in your ear, I’d like to tell you that I miss you, in a moment I no longer fear. I’d like to tell you I know you kept secrets and that I kept them too. And I’d like to tell you, I’d like to tell you, how time passed me by, so many things I didn’t say, so many things before which I fled away.

Away from the Crowds

Her tan lines told me she’d traveled from a place full of summer. The glimmer of wet sand clung to her skin. She was a goddess, burnt bronze under a baking sun. Her hair was like soft straw, curving around her face. The golden gleams highlighted the freckles on her nose. I realized how much I wanted her. But now she was in a cold place – a place where people don’t open their hearts. I knew she was lonely by the way she hugged that simple potted plant close to her chest. A pot of clay, a solitary leaf and alone with nothing but her thoughts. She made quite the picture – a lost goddess, fallen from the sky. I wondered how her skin would feel if I touched her. Would it be smooth like the sand she parted with? Or would it be crude like the touch of the clay pot she clung to so tightly? Would I drown in her eyes and she in mine? Brown meets brown, a well of hidden emotions and battles fought; fought and lost and now we’re both withered flowers. Would you let me make love to you under the cold sunlight, next to the flowers waiting patiently to bloom? Let’s take some risks, let’s shake our fates, see if they mould, see if they merge. Let’s fall in love, let’s not be afraid. You, with the flower, and I, with the braid. Let’s not be afraid…

Every Love Affair

Silence (2015)
Silence (2015)

The morning light falls on my face, beams breaking their way through thin bamboo sticks. The air is heavy with the scent of a chill. Winter creeps through the daylight, winter keeps the sun hostage but today, today it comes out full even if its warmth has waned. Waking up with this realization, I know the season’s changed yet again. There’s beauty in these cold mornings, pleasure, and in this moment, there’s peace. Everything is trivial except now, the past and the future, nothing but the imagination. In this moment, I’m happy. I’m a woman in love.

I walk down the steps and I’m outside. I’m in love with the morning, and I’m in love with the Alstadt. The way the stone crumbles under my feet as I walk, the way the birds fly in a loop above my head, the way the wind whispers to me and the faded sun beckons its hello. I’m in love with the early days of winter, and I love the way the old buildings stand around me, pointing to the sky. Their windows are old and shuttered, their facade a testimony of beauty and old age. I’m in love with the old city and I’m in love with the seasons, I’m in love with the smell of fresh, warm coffee and the way it dances in the air as it tempts and it calls. I’m in love with the dance of the swans in the nearest lake, the ripple of the water and the feeling of fresh dew on my fingertips.

I walk along the winding streets, the little shops and their displays outside, the bearded and sometimes fat men who sit on a chair all day long. In our glances there’s recognition, I see them everyday and they me. Along a winding street lined with cherry blossoms now waiting patiently for next spring, there are cafes with benches sprawled side by side. A couple or two, you see there, lost in conversation, soaking the last rays of the sun because this sunlight won’t last for long. The sound of my boots echoes in the morning silence, the peace when everyone has left for work and there are just us, the ones who’ve stayed behind. It’s a beautiful day and there’s hope in everything. There’s love all around me and I’m one with it, the beauty of it is precise and simple and it brings a smile to my face. The coffee is delicious.

Little things… These are the little things, and this is my love affair, with everyday. On my walk, I remember you. The lost moments and the dreams, waking up in the morning and brewing the first pot of coffee, sprinkling it with chocolate and making those pancakes. On my walk, I remember the moments of the lost embrace, a lost touch, a love felt and a love lost. And a realization awakens, that it’s okay. For what will be dreams if they all come true and what will be love if it isn’t left unfulfilled. Little things, these are the little things and I remember, I will always remember. But this is my moment and I will shelter no pain, no. I will love the morning, and the dying sun, sit in the waves of the wind, and hear the last leaves fall. And I will wait, patiently, I will always wait for you.