Elevator music

I cannot write anymore

The music I hear

Is the one they play

In elevators;

The one they believe

That makes slow steps go faster

The one they pretend

Will make a broken heart

More bearable.

I would rather listen to

A voice that has the courage to

Say something that is sincere 

The thing that would validate

Even just one of my tears

That what I have to brave through

Somehow is still worth
Me writing

The end of the book

Because at one point in time

Your eyes met mine

And not acknowledging a goodbye

I cannot help but hum

What a coward way to go out. 

Tourist in my own life

I am a tourist in my own life
Everything I am feeling
Is foreign land
I cannot quite recognize
This impasse
Is it really I --
I am a tourist in my own life

Should I not know by now
What I am capable of
What song I am supposed
To play
When I am having more
Than two bad days

Who is this person
Staring back at me
Here I am contemplating
And she is not crying
It is not I, it is not I
I am a tourist in my own life

What am I supposed to learn
When the one teaching a lesson
Is the one concerned
I become
Unknown territory to explore
With old wounds and sorrows
And now a new state of postwar
It is I, it is I
That has to reach out
To stop being
A tourist in my own life.

Coincidence

Now is
Not the time
Nor the place
To feel
What I buried
Come back
To the surface
Months spent
Coping
And perhaps I am
Avoiding
But what I
Endure
What am I
To do
When I face
The past
In the present
Here I am
Going on
Trying to
Make sense
Of what was
In the  end
Solely
A coincidence.

Nothing

From everything to thin air

From somewhere to nowhere

From a reason to a season

From being whole to being broken

It only takes a second

To lose it all 

A fleeting emotion

To crush it all

For someone so important

To become distant and indifferent
For something to be nothing
From being happy to unwilling
An arrow through my heart
But it was only a spear
For you to suddenly disappear

And when time has passed

Living space 

To new days and life

I will look back and wonder,

Did we even exist at all?

You, coffee and I

At eventide

Sitting on top

Last sun rays

About to cover up

This town is divine
And feelings that drown

Only city lights scintillate

While the darkness inundates

At the end of the day

Another one that was bad

All the way

When all I look forward to

Crawling back to bed 

And solace in my pillow

You ask me out for coffee

But is it not too late 

To be injected

With something that awakes

You twinkle, I am your star

And we sit for a while

Just you, coffee and I. 

Turning point

Celine had been floating on a little cloud for the last couple of months. She had a new man in her life -- and it was bliss. Everything seemed to fit right where it was supposed to: she had come to a point where she knew precisely who she was, where she was heading and what she desired. So when this striking, pleasant young man entered her life -- of course in the most unexpected, romantic fashion -- she was amazed yet unsurprisingly persuaded that, as the book always professes, it must be happening for a reason. Done with petty things and at peace with the ghosts of her past, she knew that when that kind of wind came blowing in, she would open up again and give it a chance; despite how majestically big the high walls around her heart had become. Moreover, it was palpable, at least to her, that if she were ready to embark into a new romance at last, it would be a more even-tempered, grown-up relationship than she had had before and thankfully, he appeared to agree with that specific criteria: both living very independent lives, she was elated to take things slowly, taking the proper time to get to know each other, and  though they did not spend every waking moment together, as one would usually presume of new lovers, it was remarkably alleviating to be reminded that, every day, she was on his mind and he was on hers. Celine was happy.

But as it always is, everything is smooth-sailing until it crumbles. Because no matter how confident Celine was -- not about him, not about the growing relationship; but about herself and her terms -- ; she did not bargain on the irrefutable possibility -- rather, reality --  that she could be starting to develop deeper feelings. Mind that it is not that she did not expect for that to happen; but she did not anticipate that turmoil to happen so soon -- whatever that means. Obviously, she was conscious that there can only be two alternatives the more time passes: you either bid farewell or you are keen on making more room for a person. Nevertheless, although visibly more inclined for the latter, she appreciated the slow part of it all, she found the turtle steps soothing -- and so did he. Yet like an unforeseen change in the wind, as soon as she realized that she missed him terribly after only days apart, once the epiphany that she was on the verge of also telling him that, she suddenly plunged into a sea of queries that no best friend advice could comfort.  It was clear she got one foot in already; however, she was still, irrevocably on her guard. And it was breaking down. All at once doubting his intentions, immediately desperate to find out what he could be thinking as well -- she began to cross-examine every little detail. Confusion. Unrest. Tumult. The works. All in her head, undoubtedly.  

Even so, she felt in her bones that it was too early to bring out the big guns -- or as it is universally known -- sit the coveted one down and have 'the talk'. Yeah, that talk. Are we casual? Are we serious? Are we exclusive? Are we official? Are you my boyfriend and am I your girlfriend? She herself did not aspire, at all, to go down that road. Indeed, Celine wondered, why go into that serious stuff and not just let things run their course, as she had initially planned, if or when it has to without automatically putting a label on it? On top of that, even if she sensed like she could invest in him more and more as time bound them closer; getting ideas such as making plans for a weekend away, introducing him to family and friends or giving him a gift from her most recent holiday, wasn't it too early at that stage of the relationship? Celine was positive. It was too early to make plans for a weekend away. It was too early to introduce him to family and friends. It was too early to give him a gift that comes from the heart. It was all too early. But she could not erase the thought that, as of that instant, she actually fancied doing all those things -- preferably in the near future. Was she on the right track or was she skipping steps? Was this judgment call way too early? Finally, and more importantly, she started to ponder: when is the right time, if there is one, to tell someone new what you feel? 

Seeking insight, Celine spoke to every possible person who could have an answer to that question and as it turns out, each person on the face of the earth has an opinion. Clearly. And as predicted, this is the type of universal phenomenon that remains, quite frankly, a matter of personal experience. Every couple is completely different, it even differs from culture to culture: some think that passing the three-date phase implies mutual understanding already, some reckon that first sex will suggest couple status and others believe that it is the exchanging of "I love you's" that is the ultimate proof. Demanding exclusivity i.e. having the talk about how serious one is about someone ranges from the first date to... this unlimited time frame. In fairness, then, how can one ever recognize when it is alright to talk about the future in the present?

It is easy to agree that dating has never been as complex as today. There are more definitions -- or rather, non-definitions --  than one can list when it comes to two people 'seeing each other'. The established categories have become unclear: it is not single, in a relationship, married or divorced anymore. Even Facebook has provided the "It's complicated" status just to confirm the difficulty of the matter. People can date more than one person at once, people have sex without being in a relationship, people are in a relationship without having sex, people love each other but are not considered in a relationship, and so one and so forth. Besides, it has even become socially acceptable (common, to say the least) for friends to cross that line from a platonic affair to a physical one. And once asked about his/her dating life, it is not a surprise that "I have absolutely no idea" is the given response. No wonder that falling back to old school practices i.e. explicit categorization is what people need the most in these modern times. Thus, as a consequence, the fear of telling someone that you have fallen for them and you want to take it to the next step has become impossible to handle. Quintessentially, the formula of relationships these days is tricky, ergo, the formula of ideal timing for 'the talk' is trickier. In point of fact, "the game of love is complicated, but love is not complicated" (http://mydailyaphorism.blogspot.ch/) has never been truer.

Evidently, one understands that falling in love -- timeless as ever -- has always come with mind(and heart)-boggling risks. But because of this modern take on relationships, both men and women have the hardest time to explain to someone that they want more out of a relationship... or at the minimum, label their relationship. The fact that the number of commitophobes is extremely high nowadays as well does not help one bit and the last thing one wants to do is scare someone away with the potential implications of those gigantic three little words. The debate is, have people always been afraid of opening their heart anyway or, pragmatically, have people grown more afraid because of the pseudo tendencies of recent times? Having 'the talk' is a debacle, a bomb, a weapon of mass destruction, the most frightening thing that exists. And even if one has been feeling more lovely than s/he cares to admit, saying it genuinely feels like entering a warzone. So one hesitates, one puts it off, one conceals it. Once again, the fact that the right time to have 'the talk' is practically indefinable makes the experience what one admonishes the most.

But truth of the matter is that not a single thing or person defines the couple unless the two parties finally talk about it. Honestly, mentioning serious business the first week in could be a tad bit early, but after two months, like in Celine's case, is it really still too early? The thing is, if one detects that his/heart has cracked open, there is a irrefutable possibility -- rather, reality -- that it will crack open even more; the more time passes, the more time bounds two people closer, one should grasp which direction it is supposed to go. And there is that turning point; that beautiful, horrible point when you start being more like yourself rather than the best version of yourself with someone. The ugly emerges as much as the finest part. The first steps of dating are fun and easygoing, but the real deal is the ride that takes one's breath away. So regardless of how slow you advance in the relationship -- and the slower, the better one must admit --  love gives the feeling of living in the fast lane. Celine had come to a point in her life where she knew precisely who she was, where she was heading and what she desired. And she discovered, after weeks of bliss, that she was willing to take that leap of faith. It destabilized her to the core -- because as Carrie Bradshaw asserts in Sex and the City, "even the most together woman can't keep it together when it comes to love, because just below the surface, we're all raw and exposed." Truth is -- and people do not let themselves to -- it is perfectly alright, no matter the timing, to feel that vulnerable.  In the end, the only question left is whether the other person feels the same way, wants the same thing out of a relationship and ultimately, will put the same label as you do. So it is inevitable to have the talk, it is fixed that two people spending quality time together will eventually discuss the future in the present... because you want to build mountains out of pebbles. And it is better to know now, early on, sooner...  rather than later.

Upper hand

I  know who I am

What makes me tick

When something is wrong,

Or when  I am roughly overreacting.

When I enter a state of panic

It makes me sick to my stomach

I do not recognize myself

Or  I remember the one staring at me

All too well

Defensive and uncertain

I am mean and swollen

Emotions overrun me 

So here I am 

Running on empty.

At times I am not in control

Without warning 

Or good reason
What is sure

I am on the brink

Of falling into a loophole

And I  just have to sense

When it happens

When I am this woman

Wearing stilettos on sand;

If you are that man

Not psyched but strong enough

To handle the times 

When I am losing the upper hand.

Every four months

Every four months

Of my life

I am reminded

That  you are not

In my life

A change in the wind

A blinding sky

Coffee that tastes bad

Here I am about to cry

And that every day

I still think of you that way

It burns inside

And I am cold with pride
Because

Only one

Sets my heart 

On ice and fire

I walk alone

And like Amy said,

Tears will dry on their own. 

Target

Sometimes, you just know which direction you have to go 

even if you do not have the map.

Worry

I worry 

About

You

Just 

A little --

Just 

A little

And enough

To know
Now

I am

Really

Starting

To care

About

You.

Talking without words

Pressing my fingernail

Against your skin

Running my hand

From there, back to your chin

I have not said a word, but

You grasp how my mind works.

You blink that way and I know

You are talking to me

Passing on a message

From the heart of a window. 

We are having 

A great conversation 

Without even having

To exchange a single word.

Everything that must be said

Our feelings that ought to be shared

Here we are, doing so,

Just you and I, talking in silence

Without the sound of a word;

Between the fluster of the wind

And hearts that are about to discover.

Blowing hot and cold

We may have doubts about what we want at times;
but we always, always are sure about what we do not want.

Bridge

It is the bridge

Between

Now and forever

The bridge of fear 

And are we crossing over?

It is the bridge between

Possibility and doubt

Will we stay stuck

Or are we willing to try?

It is the bridge between

Who we are and

What we could be

Will the distance

Abide

Or will it be us

Eventually?

Are we ready 

To venture

Travel across this bridge

To our future?

Hold me tight

Let us take a chance

And bridge the gap

I am inclined
If you are

To cross the bridge

That leads to

You and I.

Beauty is on the outside

A couple of days ago, I came across a Russian commercial that awakened my interest straightaway. Basically, the story goes as follows: a handsome young man from a lower class falls promptly in love with this goddess at his workplace. He goggles her from afar -- and she does not look at him once, not even when he nonchalantly tries to approach her. As if he was just air, she remains indifferent and continues with her errands. Then, the commercial moves to that man taking a shopping spree. He cleans up real nice, casual suit and all, finds a suave ride -- a black BMW X5 I reckon -- and runs into her in the streets 'by chance' again. This time, the gorgeous woman gives him the time of day: she climbs into his slick BMW and he invites her to some fine dining in some fancy restaurant. They have a blast; laughing and flirting. She is charmed, throws in the towel and decisively spends the night with him. The next day, she cannot wipe that grin off her face and when she suddenly faces him at the office once more, she simply cannot believe her eyes: he is the man she rejected the day before, he is the man she was smitten with the night before. 

Now when I got to read the comments on this particular advertisement, my first observation is of course the non-surprise of the massive wave of opinionated and negative remarks:  "That is the reality, boys!" "Money can buy you love", "A pity that there are still so many women like that", "This speaks for itself! Women only look at the wallet", "That bitch deserves to be duped", "This is a lesson for all the women who are superficial and conceited", "I doubt that there are people who look at inner beauty alone!" Evidently, these statements promptly got me into thinking.

We live in a society these days in which inner beauty is acclaimed: men and women are encouraged by thousands of inspirational messages on a daily basis, our monthly magazines perpetually coerces us to embrace ourselves and we regularly receive a confidence boost from our own surrounding as well: the family, the friends, the person who shares our life and the occasional friendly person who pays us a pleasant compliment. We hope for a person to love us for who we are. Like Eddie "Prince Akeem" Murphy beckons in Coming to America (1988): "When I marry, I want the woman to marry me for who I am, not because of what I am." In that light, it means that if we were stripped down to our inner assets, the coveted one would love us still -- just like Lisa McDowell fell in love with Akeem when she thought he was a simple goat herder.  In point of fact, we are taught that attractiveness depends on personality and intelligence; on values and spirit; on ethos and a smile. And if we master a good character -- everything else is secondary: looks, weight, background, the past and naturally, how much money we have in the bank account.

Nevertheless, as it is demonstrated in that Russian commercial, reality appears to be a different story entirely. It is a walking contradiction to what we are instructed; it is a rebuttal of what we ourselves desire. Men (and maybe women even more so?) will examine the looks, the weight, the car, the social circumstances and of course, the wallet before showing even the slightest interest in getting to know someone better. One could ask him/herself, does it truly all come down to the uniform? A jumpsuit versus a suit? In essence, the man she rejected and the man who was to her liking are one: same face, same body, same personality, the exact same person. Or... is that really the case?

Do not misunderstand me, I am not one to profess that wallet and body hold more prestige than soul. I highly concur with the saying that looks may attract someone at first, but it is personality that will keep two people together. Without an ounce of doubt, inner beauty wins over the outer one, every time, in all cases, in each relationship. However, and I might be butchered for saying this, I strongly disagree with two matters. For one, let us be honest, looks matter -- especially at first sight at the very least. And I do not regard this as being narrow-minded at all; but it is irrefutable that our conception of beauty relies on eyes at the beginning. We walk into a cafe, a bar, a club; what we look out for is looks. We develop celebrity crushes just by scanning films, music videos and pictures; we do the same when we stroll around town. True to form, it might be shabby to bank on physical assets alone, but we must insist that who or what we consider beautiful is not a pivotal affair. Physical appearance does matter because aesthetics are appealing -- as straightforward as that.
Furthermore, and more importantly, the truth about looks is more than point-blank, physical features; it is also how one presents him/herself. Taking the proper time to groom oneself, giving importance to diet and exercise, defining one's own (fashion) style is definitely a reflection of the inner persona. Fact is, in any given situation, I have noticed that the most attractive person is not necessarily the 'classic, pretty' face by model standards as we would assume; but the most striking will be the one who is confident about what s/he looks like -- no matter what our idea of beauty is. In addition, I always have the impression that a person grows more lovely the more I get to know them -- because who they are is written on their face and body. So the physique is essential: it is not the full package, that is established, but reality is we do come in a package and it is okay to like it, to work on it, to nourish it.

On a second note, the claim that money does not make any kind of difference at all is pure fiction. Because the thing about money -- and people with such comments as the ones I mentioned above do not automatically take this aspect into consideration -- is that (good) money is tied to education, ambition, perseverance, dedication or hard work. In the commercial, when one looks closely, as soon as the young man exchanged the jumpsuit for a suit -- he radiated more assertiveness. Then, to answer my question earlier, he might have the same face, the same body, the same personality but it is not the same person: he gained another quality i.e. confidence. There is room for improvement -- an economic one for starters, and the rest follows. Times have changed, today's culture is different. Compared to perhaps just fifty years ago, we must certainly not descend from a wealthy family to become prosperous. We make our own fortune. There are countless examples of success stories -- and none of them happened without hard work, or still thrive  because of hard work. In actual fact, society today allows any man to dream bigger. Thus, that aspiration is not an impossible task. The educational system is not simply a privilege for the rich, but for the one who is eager to study in order to 'turn out well'. Next, the best positions with 'better' salaries are accessible if one puts in the blood, sweat and tears. We can climb the economic ladder if we give ourselves the chance to do so. It could be that some might have it 'easier' than others, still, any one of us can ignite his potential.
Yes, as a predictable consequence, a wealthier man will have -- or at least, can afford -- a better ride, a better attire, will taste better wine and will attract, effectively, more women. Simultaneously, though, it is again crucial to note that in the process, that man will obtain a greater level of self-confidence due to his self-made status. As a counterpart, I am convinced that women who want affluent men is not only because they crave luxury and that is the only thing they count on when a man seduces them; but it is because these men ooze boldness and personal drive -- which, I am assured of, are fantastic character traits we must praise. Sure, being treated like a queen comes with the territory; yet women who look for that advantage in men are not incontrovertibly gold diggers. And it is not a shame for women, successful themselves, to demand bigger things, fancy things, and aspire to live the pseudo good life. What is so wrong with being drawn to men who can provide (enough/more) security? This avowal is in no way to degrade people from a lower class, but I often feel that devaluing the power of money is not the right thing to do either. We always claim that men who have money do not need to put extra 'effort' into seducing women because they have the money -- but that is complete and utter nonsense. It is like saying that these are people without personality -- which is as wrong as affirming that those with less money are the sole ones with good character. Once more, money is closely linked to excellent facets such as having motivation and endurance. It is more than men being able to supply the 'right' things; earning (enough) money is a mirror of someone's willpower. In the end, the myth of men with money -- or women only hoping for a man with money -- is more than what lies on the surface.

In conclusion, whether we admit it or not, we will agree that beauty, inner and outer, as well as size of the wallet are key factors in the game of seduction and love. To which extent these things matter to someone is, then, a question of narrow-mindedness (or openness). Who we are triumphs -- it always has and always will --; whether  it applies to the (wo)men we seek or ourselves we aim to please. All we can do is play with the cards God has given us; and try to better ourselves constantly: our physical appearance reflects our inner beauty; and our inner beauty reflects on our physique (Just smile and see what happens in terms of testing your appeal!). Important to note is that inner and outer beauty are never contradictions - they collaborate. At the end of the day, we are a package -- a full package -- that we must (learn to) accept, love and/or work on. Then, when we get to love, well, we do love the full package as well, don't we?

Liars

You say one thing

But mean another

I feign a nod

Because I know

What you aspire

You keep by the rules

I use all the right tools

We play it carefully

Though we already

Share this affinity

We do not have

To pretend

By now

We are on the same

Wavelength

We say one thing

But we mean another
Such a farce 

Because we both know

We are untruthful

However
The beauty of

This deceit
Is that we are 

Aware

Of the truth

Behind it

It is a lie

That we need not

Demystify
The truth about
You and I
Being coy is that

You are crazy

About me

And the other way

Around

We say one thing

But our eyes intend

Another

And the heavenly feeling

If 

We are both liars;

The two of us 

Telling the same fib

To one another

Then quite frankly,
At the core of the
Conversation

Were we not telling 

The truth

All along?

If

If it had never happened
Would I have eventually
Ended up here?
A safe haven
Daydream feelings
Knowing exactly who I am
And where I am going

Encircled by the people
I cannot go on a day
Without thinking about;
Living in a city
I adorn and that I
Will not ever leave behind

Weary of explaining myself
I still work on embracing myself
The journey I have set in
Losing it, finding it,
Exploring still, my inkling

Never losing, always winning

If it never happened
My writing would be different
But as of now
Every tingling in my body says
Me, myself and I are happy
Maybe things happen, unluckily
Yet I learned to make the things
I want
Happen eventually.

My book

Go on and open it

My diary

My book of
Poetry
If you will.

For you

Nothing is hidden

Exposed 

And forthcoming

Every feeling

Is plain-spoken.

Either

You will read it

Right

If you do

Then 

You will 

Most likely
Recite

Each verse

As a fountain

Of goodness

Each one

Rhyming

With

A hunk of

Frankness.

My book is

Yours to read

For you and

You alone 

To study, 

To pore over 

 And be absorbed in;
You will

Interpret

Everything

Is as sincere

As it is;

 I have not

Sprinkled anything
Nothing is
Beautified
Because
I have no
Details
To gild.
My book is
Yours to read
An open book
To you only.
This is
My diary,
My book of
Poetry
For you and
You alone
To see.

Every song is about you

It may be in the beat

Here I am thrumming
As I concentrate on
The lyrics

Grinning and
Almost convinced

Artists were thinking
Of us while writing.

It is more than those
Love declarations

It is also the ones
With a message that
Is not dead on

I have the microphone

Hitting every note

Where I am punching
The air

I do not turn a hair
When that is all
I ought to do
Sing along
And dance moves
I want to share.

I have a playlist
All day long
Volume louder
Earphones on

Music is
The mediator
Between my heart
And yours;

Every song I hear
I think of you

Not just love songs
Not pop, jazz,
Rap nor techno

Every song
I think of you
Every song is
About you

You are
Every genre

You are my
Favorite
Song.

Timing

When is soon too soon

A blow away 

From popping 

The balloon

Or am I waiting 

Too long

Because I am

Anxious to reveal

Where my emotions

Belong

I doubt 

Whether 

It is right

But I have

Been feeling 

Quite alright

I take a photograph

And I am curious

What happens to 

The negative 

When exposed 

To light

Too soon?

I listen to her

I listen to my mother
Because she knows me
Better than
I will ever know myself
She will describe how I feel
No matter what situation
I am in
She reads me
Without ever
Misinterpreting
She senses what is best
Because my fleeing heart
Was always hers to protect
Now she listens to me
I have come to an age
Where my words are
An extension of her script
Tables are not turned
But I am her mirror
And I want her to treasure
That all I have done
Is for her
I listen to her, my mother
And she listens to my word
My sun and moon,
Our beating hearts
Yesterday and
Evermore in tune.

Connecting dots

Propelled to 

Another time

Sparked off

By a sound

The song

Played 

In the background

Stirred up

Shadows

Digging up 

Old photos 

A whiff of perfume

Sends 

My memories

In fume

Swallowing

Moments past

Each time 

I taste that pie

Another pats me

The same way

Calling to mind

What you used to say;

Some things

Become off limits

Affluent in 

Stories 

Spots in the 

Ordinary

Transformed

Into 

A minefield

Memories have

A way to kill

The present day

Dragged downhill

Then at times

I wonder

Why things I love

Are marred

Not everywhere

You left a mark

It is I that 

Allowed you 

To linger

In my light 

Connecting dots

When there are none

Connecting dots

That do not belong

I cease to be

Far-fetched
Some settings

Are not affixed

Here I am

Once again

In front of

The same same

But I beam 

For the best

Way to get rid of

Memories

Is to create 

New ones

That only I

Get to freeze. 

Broken glass

I dreamt of broken glass

A paper thin cut

And a bleeding heart

It pains to endure

An imaginary wound

I stay sound asleep

But the torment is real

I sense a kiss 

On my cheek

Am I dreaming 

Or is this really happening

I cannot tell 

The difference

Whether
My eyes are kept shut

Or I am here to wake up

I squeeze my soul

Then, I am sure

I am dreaming 

Reality

And I am realizing 

This exquisite dream

Everything is quiet

My heart is playing

Music

 For once

I am synchronized

A rarity I highly prize

Your soft kiss

On my cheek

Suddenly a potential

Of gluing back 

This broken piece. 

Tip of the tower

I cannot believe
I have not noticed before
When you have been
Right there all along
Every waking hour
Never mind the weather
I stand in front of you
In that silence of reflection
There is a token so true.

And I thought I had seen it all
Studied every single detail like my
Favorite painting on the wall
Then out of the blue,
When the color of the sky
Was everything but blue
Gawking at me
The tip of the tower
The tallest one in the city
Hovering over my shoulder.

It is ravishing, and a riddle
How I failed to spot it
Up until this second
And it struck me
I had been fortunate
Without ever minding it
Having had this view
Whenever I wanted.

Perhaps therein lies the mystery
Life filled with eye-openers
Even in the midst of certainty
Yet for all one knows
You are able to see
Clearly; only once you are
Truly ready.

Life piles up,
Each detail
Already beautiful
But such a different sight
A better one, that is right
After it dawns on you
The top of the tower is
Shedding the appropriate light,
Regardless how long it took
For you to figure out.

Now I see;
And I appreciate it
Much more lately
Perhaps because
Now I am ready.

You are the
Cherry on my sundae
The one that makes
My life landscape
More poignant
More significant
With each passing day.

Picture-imperfect

We are bent on making a good impression
As we try bringing our A Game to the table
Raising germane topics in the conversations
In the hope of displaying a slightly better version
Of who I really am, and who I am in your opinion

Even so, I consistently fall in the same trap
My mind always buzzing and I say what is on my heart
Wrapped in nervousness, I am the same opinionated
But it comes off as if I were completely demented
Or at least that is what I pick up on my deportment

And all of sudden that is when you make me realize
Even in my most unusual state, you are able to recognize
That I have never been more myself than when I have butterflies
You glimpse at my soul as I look into your eyes, and your verdict
Nothing sweeter than me being picture-imperfect.

Ego down

Admitting it when you are wrong is the rightest of virtues.

Right through me

In my prattle
A smitten gal
In my silence
A heart flutter
In my chuckle
A nervous soul
In my tremble
A happy fool
In my gape
A riveting thought
In my jiggle
My interest shown

An example of old saying
Butterfly wings flapping
Hearing birds singing
All written on my skin
When persuaded to fail
A closer look into the realm
For beneath the willies
I had nothing to worry
Because you were still able
To see right through me.

Universe

The universe is testing me
It did not inquire
When there was plenty
Of opportunity

It picked the right timing
That it could not be
Rather unmistakably
More unfitting

Had I been asked before
I would have been certain
About my answer
But now I am bewildered

How am I to dismiss
When each time
The suspension is tempting

How can it come to an end
When soon enough
Never seems to arrive late

A clash with the universe
As it forces me to reassess
The choices
I am about to make
When really
I should not be
Doubting

Even for just a second.

Assignment

Even non-mistakes have a lesson to teach.

Pinch

Unfortunately, the only way to set someone free at times is by hurting them.

Right turn

Rather a bad decision that leads to the right place; than the right place leading to bad decisions.

Constant

In a world 

That constantly
Changes

A snap of a finger

And it is 

Winter all over again

When supposedly, spring 

Has already come in

There are

These 

Mood swings
Without warning 

Often

Bad news

Depending

And once 

What you thought

Was sure

All of a sudden

Alters

Allure.

But if you are 

Lucky enough

To find 

This passion

That lasts for life

A fixed appetite

When there is
No cloud 

In the sky 

A special device

That gets you
Through
The tough

Loyal at all times
The kind of love

That never declines;

For me

It is 

Electronic music

My savior 

If there is a need

My fervor

When there is no need

And lifelong 

I will be
Dancing 

To its beat.

It is

The constant
I can count on

No matter

The situation

From the bass
I will never part

Techno,
You will always have 

My heart.

Out of my system

It is poison

Flowing

Through my veins

My mind troubled

And waves of loss

Are all I gain

Perhaps

I am dependent

On the pain

Years of being 

Borderline obsessed 

Imprisoned in chains

I will  deny

Until 

It is too late

I will pretend

Until 

My body breaks

Ever Conflicted

Between

Worse and wrong

Also God

Knows
The fight was long

This is the last straw

I am going

To heal 

From your claws

The spite

Sucking the 

Life out of me

The darkness

Behind this smile

You will no longer see

I am getting you

Out of my system 

Extracting you

From under my skin

Now let me live

With mistakes past

But my future

You will never
Ever again

Grasp. 

Hugs

Each time we hug

It is the moment

I unplug

At times 

From life's

 Harsh realities

Most times

Toasting to life's 

Long-lasting

Delicacies.

I can still recall

The first time we met

Not yet recognizing

It was going to set

This journey

We have been sharing

Creating our own kind

First-class experiences 

In the routine. 

We dance and have coffee

Talk future and memories

Building 

Brick by brick 

The most precious

Skyscraper of friendship. 

Each time we hug

We are honest at heart

Whether we are 

Bursting out

With laughter

Or the hours we are 

Caught in a sob.

My life is living it all with you

The hurt, the pain

The best, the great

There are not enough

Thank you's 

To show my gratitude

But I hope you know

 Each time we hug

It is me also exhibiting

I love you.

Fulfillment

To feed on your fantasies is the way to live them.

Writing

Passion is filling a void
That can never overload
Words flowing incessantly
But the glass always seems
Like it is running empty
Though a nod of satisfaction
When a piece is done
As soon as you think enough
You are once again a sponge
It is the people you adore
The new ideas you absorb
The tranquility you then feel and
A piece of paper becomes a thrill
You will not ever turn weary
Passion is fuel in the ordinary
Your own sun rising daily
Even when inspiration is lacking
All you wish to do is feed on
Words that acquire a life of their own
Hoping to be a channel
Of the change they enable
Words are more than what is needed
More than what you love and covet
Only writing can be result and seed
The cure and the cause that sees
Why passion keeps your feet on the ground
And rockets your soul to a higher ground.

Not anymore

She does not live there anymore

Pass by as often as you want

She has already closed that door

To the past, to the past

She finally said goodbye. 

It has been a while 

Since she moved away

But it took her

An eternity and a day

To move on 

From the past, from the past

She is no longer burdened.  

Everything became stale 

Yet she soldiered on 

Even then when hopes were frail

She fought past, She fought past

Til she smiled at last. 

Whether it is

Irony or cliche

To come walking by

When her feelings no longer sway

It is a blast from 

The past, the past

She no longer yens for. 

Do not bother

Not everything

Has a reason

Not everything

Needs an

Explanation

Why mull over

Analyze over and over

When possibly

Things really do

Just happen

With conclusively

Nothing further

Not a wandering mind

Not a wondering heart

That has to examine

In pursuit of

Meaning.

Then take them
As they come

Empty words

With no substance

But
Listen carefully

I will say it only once

The truth in its entity

Things do not 

Just happen

For us

For the idea
Of us
Is still bound

To the past

Whether
We want it

Or not

So if there is no essence

In these exchanges

Do not bother

Showing up

If there is not

The slightest hint

That there is

A comeback.

Paradise

Do not tell me

It does not exist

Do not dare me

To cease

To dream

I have seen Paradise

From above

Now right before my eyes

I fall in love

A kind of blue

That is unreal

A moment so pure

Only happy hearts can feel

Leaving footprints

In the sand

I deem

We are one with the sun

Dear Paradise

That is ours

Dear Muriel and Remy

That made it ours

We leave
But not unchanged

Paradise Island

On your shores,

Our love for you

Forevermore remains. 

She

She will wear

Jeans with holes

She will swear

If one annoys

She will flaunt

Her blow dried hair

Which she took

An hour

To prepare

She will fight 

You with fists

She will not

Be intimidated 

When there is

A feast

Her favorite film

Is Scarface

She will shed

A tear
When a hero

Falls from grace

She will drink

The bottle of wine

She will work out

To keep her line

She loves looking

Like a a doll

She will beat

You at football

Her cute quirks

Will amaze

And her underwear

Is always lace

A woman

With a girly

attitude

A woman

Whom guys

Can call dude

She is not

Either/or

She is both

The girl next door

And one
They at times

Abhor 

You will

Try to fit her

In a box

But why

Would you ever

Want
To tame a fox

Photocopy

I do not wish to reduplicate

From you and the past

I want to break

However, I reckon

Unconsciously

I am attracted

To the same facets

Persistently.

All I have been inclined to

The last couple of months

Is stop being reminded of you

But what seems to 

Entice me

Bits and pieces of you

In another individual

I see.

How can I start anew

When deep in my heart

All I still desire is you

My heart

Set on ice and fire

Is history

Then why am I doing

A photocopy.

It is not deliberate

But what seduces me  

Are colors of a similar palette

How am I to let go

If still submerged in shadow

Though I know it is another person

Am I following

An identical pattern.

  

Let us talk about the weather

There comes a time We should move past Talking idly About weather Headlines and topics Which are popular Has it come to that point We could let our guard down Opening a window Earning a glimpse into the soul Discovering sides That are more personal That line disappears Between the safe sphere And everything that is deep Now we scrutinize What ticks you off How you get to love And we assess Whether we will get along Within the premise of our worlds We are all acquaintances Tested to be a confident Not all deserve Sincere attachement But unless we take That step That moment in time Specific without end From being a contact To becoming a friend That is all we will consider Weather, the trivial And everything that is proper.

It is yesterday

It is yesterday
That carves today
It is yesterday
That molds this way

How we get to feel
Decided upon
How the past is sealed

If we get to release
Solely hinges on
This former piece.

It is yesterday

That guides the present

It is yesterday

That steers this engine

Never was it the question

Whether or not

We shall abandon

The only concern

Is whether or not

We can change our opinion.

My heart is made of stone

Take a closer look

At the picture I took

Everything is the same

But can it be

 There is a latent possibility

That like I, that you descry

How one is shaped 

Just like a heart.

Could always conceive

My heart was made of stone

When unexpectedly

In the midst of them all

I found one laying on its own

One is solitary

Concealed and ignored

When looking at the horde

But bring your magnifying glass

There is a precious little gem
Buried in the mass.

Could always certify

My heart was made of stone

One should drop or hit

Ricochet off water

Yet each time

Unscathed once more

Why was it not softer

Long had I pondered

Arduous to carry
Such a heavy stone

But when I saw

This pretty one 

Located on the floor

My heart is made of stone

Not otherwise 

That is my wont.

Becoming scarce

But one day I know

One will take the same photo
And be glad 

This heart of stone
In the midst of them all

Had not another form. 

Fire

It is the moment

Right before

When two are yet

Uncomfortable
Everything else
Dissolves
As the two
Share
The limelight
How striking
Not even noticing
How their soul
All at once
Disrobed.

The air is so tense
Any second
It could break
Any second
One could shake
The air is thick
 So thick
They almost
Cannot take it.

They exchange words
But their bodies
Shiver
They make love
With the eyes
Two lives capsized
Reaching the heights
Without even
A touch.

It is the moment
Right before
Two lovers
Set on fire
Attraction
Is never
Calculated
A mystery
Why two
Become
Magnets
The love that is
Inevitable
That is the love
... Desire.






  

As white as snow

The silence is gripping
And I know at this second
God is giving me a moment
To seize it in its integrity.

The fresh air that I breathe
I find my inner peace
There is nothing else I seek
As the sun clasps my cheeks.

Now my soul is as white as snow
And this way, sometimes narrow
Though I see footprints on the floor
It is still my own footsteps I draw.

The sky has never been so blue
Suddenly, it is the world I review
I am so little facing all this splendor
And all I hope is my writing can mirror.

All good things

I have heard it all before
People claiming that this is
A reality we cannot ignore

All good things
Must come to an end

And now when they finally do
The past flashes before my eyes
Looking back on
The great moments
I spent here, in the company of
Terrific friends.

It is the end of an era
And I get teary-eyed
As I bid my final goodbye

All good things
Come to an end

I am not quite certain
What the future holds
But as long as I have you
By my side, creating something new
With confidence
Our new era just began.

Beyond

There is only a few
Whom you can call
Faithful and true;

Beyond borders and time,
Beyond distance,
Your words and mine,
Beyond our actions,
What differentiates us,
And what unites us,
All walks of life narrow down
To one single point,

Having you in my life.

It is often said
That nothing lasts,
The unimaginable happens
And the unbreakable can fall apart.
But when I look at us,
Recurrently get the chance
To become so overwhelmed
By the power of love, trust and friendship
I know
- Into eternity, I glance.

Setback

So long I have been without

Now that I have you back

I cannot seem to figure out

Whether I missed you or not.

At first I was cross

Everything turned to chaos

No longer my own boss

Without you I was lost.

Obliged to rearrange

Usual habits became strange

But slowly all that came to change

I celebrated with champagne.

When I deemed it impossible

That every day would be a battle

I found ways I never thought of

Greater than any I had walked before.

So long have I been without

Now that you are back

I  keep on having setbacks

Still living as if I had to cut back.

So maybe when we get detached

It is not a time to miss what we had

The gap we get to fill when there is a hole

       Better than what we had when we were whole.