Your sweater upside down;
The neck part covering up my eyes and reaching to the top of my nose,
Right sleeve covering my neck,
As I clutch onto the left one,
To capture any memory, thought, vision of you and enforce you in a dream of my subconscious’ making.
Lying on the bed,
Breathing in the scent that my memory has fabricated to associate with you,
Trying to reify your presence and existence.
Lying on the bed,
Smothering my face with the one thing that has touched your skin; the one thing that has sucked in your breaths,
Hoping I could be inspired to articulate a piece that is worthy of the emotions that I hold for you.
Like a spoilt brat,
Unsatisfied with the playroom full of toys,
Ungrateful for the happiness they swim in.
Like a spoilt brat,
I want more.
I want your face within my hands.
I want your arms around my fragile shell.
I want your heart within my chest.
I want my scent taming every cell on your body.
I want my touch to stain every thing you possess.
I want your lips to only be familiar with mine.
I want your eyes to be the only ones that trace every edge of my body.
I want you to share the oxygen that only I can breathe.
I want you to re-write the stories that have cursed my skin.
I want you to blind me with that crooked smile of yours.
I want to study the lines that form around your eyes and lips when you smile.
I want to wake up to your shell wearing this sweater of yours, for a change.
I want to directly hear the raw frequency of your voice.
I want you Demon.
I want your flames to burn me alive.
I want to melt, disappear, rebirth and become one with you.
Emotions inspire words to formulate sentences…
Hey.
How are you doing?
Hope you’re well.
Can I also hope that you’re reading this?
How’s the snow there?
Are you warm enough?
Ah. Too many questions that I want to ask.
Too many selfish desires,
foolish attempts,
and unwanted outcomes.
I never intended to be the one who hurts you.
But, you probably still blame me,
and I understand, but you should too,
you should understand my side of the story.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I couldn’t give you any part of me;
my mind, my heart, or my soul.
And I’m sorry if I injured any of yours.
I’m sorry that I see pain reflected in your eyes,
when you look at me.
I’m sorry I had your heart within my grasp,
and I had to let go;
it wasn’t mine to take, please understand.
Remember the selfish love I said I have for you?
Yes, it’s still true.
I love you selfishly.
But that’s cruel, I guess;
to love you in a way
that doesn’t allow you to take anything from me,
when you are capable of loving me wholeheartedly.
At this point,
I forgot the purpose of this piece.
But one day,
could you find it in your heart to forgive me?
We may not be able to talk like before,
but at least,
I’ll be able to ask you how you’re doing directly,
instead of talking to myself
in this lousy blog.
Just take me back, he said.
That pain you feel
when you miss someone,
when you long for someone,
when their absence stings,
is starting to kick in,
along with the realisation that
my mind,
my heart,
my soul,
have finally agreed;
You’re real.
Please do not deny
the words that I use
to express what I feel.
See,
some people find
it easy to describe
their emotions using
simple words like happy, angry,
and so on.
I
describe my feelings with
scenes that I’ve painted in
my mind.
If you can’t understand those
sceneries, then you can’t
possibly understand
how I feel.
Maybe you lack imagination,
the same way you say I lack
the understanding of emotions.
Garout's Delusions 