What I once found fulfilling
And had me melt like
Our cheesy comments,
Now feels so foreign and strange.
Do emotions just blind us completely?
Not in a way where everything seems dark
And you cannot see.
But in a way where there’s too much light
And you look the other way
Or end up closing your eyes.
As if these intense emotions are there
To amplify and hype up anything
That could be good into beautiful .
And once that light dims,
Your eyes adjust and start to see clearer.
And what once took your breath away,
Now, is extraordinarily ordinary.
I definitely did not want you to stop.
I wanted you to whisper in my ear everything that you would have done if only we were a breath away.
And I definitely did not want to make it obvious for those sitting around me, as you drew dirty images in my mind,
But it was either that or the following Moan would have exposed both of us.
She would look into the direction of his neighborhood, as she drove past it, feeling
Sad. Or at least that “ah, yeah that one from that time”… and rather than feeling indifferent, being sad for a bit was the better option. I think.
I don’t know. It was some kind of internal theatrical conflict to give the years she was with him a bit of value, out of respect for Love.
He does not comprehend
How hearing the sound that his vocal cords emit
As his lips give way for one phrase to escape over and over again
Has stopped me many times from picking up a needless fight.
The thought of his tongue
Within the only hole
That matters in my body,
Not my vagina,
I mean my mouth.
The only part that can smile
To leave a positive impression,
Or even worse, a sarcastic remark.
The part that can speak and use
The weapon of words to serve
A good or a bad cause or
Nothing at all.
The part that can let out a sigh
That is worth a million words.
The part that, if shut, can leave
The strongest of meanings.
The part that, with the help of another
Like His mouth and tongue,
Can show the most passionate of affection.
As I rest my head onto the pillow,
Waiting for my friend to wrap me up and portal me to the world of my subconscious,
I acknowledge the silence that strangle the walls surrounding me.
But as I listen carefully,
I become aware of a rhythmic sound of air;
I didn’t realise my breathing can be so loud when accompanied by silence,
Reminding me of his exhales at night.
And a thought crosses my mind;
If I am the reflection he sees in the mirror,
Then our breathing can be the same.
If I am his, and he is mine,
Then the air I breathe is his own.
I don’t need to hear him breathing in order for me to relax and sleep,
All I need
To listen to myself
As if he was on the phone.
And the only remedy I need
For my tachypnoea,
Is the heavy sounds of your breaths while you sleep.