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we renew ourselves in beginnings. in this beginning, i renew myself. walking out and breathing in, i step into a new division marked by closer daylight. i smile.
there is strength in my breath as i look up and lean into something large. taking that step out and forwards, i breathe, i refuel. purity is both free and priceless.
this day can surround me, continue to wrap me in its warmth. let it become me. i become it. this is a mutual exchange of the most simple form. here. now.
right now, my most exciting thought lingers in the simplest place.
a morning to awake by bright daylight.
to awake to a lack of alarms or timetabling.
no schedule to stick to, only a coffee to be made.
and once made, drunk, sitting still and daydreaming.
daydreaming to the swirls of the froth.
to the heat as it rises.
a morning that unwinds at the same pace as me.
a bowl of delicious coconut porridge and a glass of fresh orange juice.
a return to bed to read and write.
in meeting, we say so much. our words flow between us. our actions reflect in each other, hinting at our history. and we sit around, eating and taking it in. i watch you. take you in.
and in it all, we say so little. about us. about what sits in my mind, day in and day out. about all the things i want to tell you when you are not here. the mind full. the heart full of messages. it could pour words onto pages.
we never say enough.
i look over. and i capture this snippet of style.
perhaps we are driving along the road. smooth as honey, we ride over the fast moving blackened surface. we are there and the surrounds pass us by. irrelevant, they remain, serving only to give us context to now. we laugh and its ripples are caught up in the music. caught tightly in the warm folds of cushioned fabric. we move, cushioned.
a slick mint green we are traveling, in the only way controllable. we are managing time. and escaping reality.
you sometimes spring into my mind. your big smiles plastered across my mind's eye view. and i hear the way your accent carries high at the end of each sentence, light and friendly. and i think back to when i was told, through a mutual friend, that you very much regret not meeting me. and those sentiments ring true to me too. in knowing what we shared, i think you are someone i should know more. you are someone whose wisdom i'd like to be able to share. and so i carry your smile.
make every moment count they said. and it echoed through me, to my heart and around in circles. to now. and beyond.
did i ever grab your hand and drag you up the fire escape to look at the stars, watching them, watching us? did we light a fire and sing, sending out our joint message into the night? did we dance endlessly, showing smiles through our moves? did we roll over into one another over and over, just because.
i would do all of that now and more.
i love you... more.
entering the place and presenting ourselves, we were welcomed. we jumped on the invite and sat down, ready to be introduced to something fresh. in the new feast, we took a bellyful. we were thirsty and this was poured out for us. we picked up our fingers and began to flick in all directions, the new knowledge.
and they motioned and gestured. we watched and learned. leaving giddy with the excitement of something new.
later, you told me how you love firsts. especially, shared firsts. and i could see you visibly bubbling.
i remember the night because you let me in and you let me hold you, as though i was the only one who could. we were at a party and you were lost, in disbelief and despair. i recognised the missing, on your face and discretely we left. and we walked. and we stopped. i stopped to hold you and you let yourself cry. and i recall your body shaking next to mine. you released a piece of yourself onto me. and i simply held you there, with the minutes and tears.
the line is just silent. and i am caught between hanging onto it and also, counting away the minutes that are ticking with the want to hang up. the more it stays, the more we validate it. and become used to it. it pushes awkwardness into me. and so i end the call, by starting a conversation that will end the lack thereof. and i hang up to your monotone goodbye and i wonder when this ever became okay. is this okay for you? the silence, this time, is not healing but harming.
i cycled today. two wheels where spinning endlessly under me, as i fought wind to maintain simple balance. the road surface too, was at times awful. unexpected holes. the ride started off easily but a while into it, there were hills, some rather steep. i felt refreshed despite the workout. the return journey involved aiming for a short cut but getting lost. a downhill, supposedly easy, but afraid, i rode with the breaks on. missing the joy.
it's a metaphor, if you know what i mean?
but i really did ride today.
in your words, i find comfort of all sorts. i read them and i can hear your tones. your calm can wash over me. the thought of your presence can calm me. the knowledge of the contact keeps me safe.
i hear your voice. i smile because i know it so well. i love the way your s comes out in song and i try to wrap it into my insides, keeping it tight. i listen and i learn love. i wait for it all to flood back.
you are here always.
i look at the picture, trying to take it all in. you sit there and ask me what is not in the picture. what is to the right and then to the left? i wonder who the person is and where they came from. quickly, i have my images conjured, based on something of which i am unaware. i smell home cooking and i see notebooks. through the window, there is a garden tree, thick and sturdy and in the distance, a brother who, without fear, throws stones and waits for his return.
weighted down, like this ship's own anchor. i breathe but on the exhale, i sink. deeper. this day has a heavy, dark grey thickness to its movement. i move through, unsure what will fall next. the world around me, is strange. it is hard to decipher the point in all of this. what is the destined outcome. and why?
the air is harder to breathe today. my body weary and heavier to lift. and yet my tears fall much more freely. they roll in this time alone, now found.
the things you said and my reactions to them, tell our story.
you explained how i had left a hole, not just a blank space but specifically shaped to me. like a key and its lock. you wrote words, pouring out your soul. i couldn't let myself read them. i scanned, folded and held them, wanting to keep on moving less painfully. they piled up until you gave up, recognizing you had hurt me too much.
what i didn't know then; there's nothing that should be too much. nothing is too much for you.
when it was good, it was incredibly good. the moments of magic played on, and on through our eyes meeting and our smiles growing. we took in new places, new ideas and talked without strain. you smiled and i reciprocated. i laughed and you echoed. the walls shouted us on and time passed so quickly. in our great times, we were superlative. we floated with the highest kites and sailed with the fastest ships on blue seas. the sun shone.
but now, the arguments. stop. us.
the reactions are inappropriate in every sense possible of the word. grunt. shrug. jab at something dear. a destructive throw. the raised voice of anger as you look at me.
in it all, i am still standing. feeling the strong wind bend around me, not acknowledging my stance, as it races around my curves, my softness. it is harsh on my skin, my casing.
many days i just don't trust your reactions will be reasonable. i fear them, for their volatility. unpredictability. i feel my patience waning.
your tear rolls.
you write about packing up your life into brown boxes. and i wish, sometimes, it was that simple with my heart. close, seal and move.
i remember packing up our things and with each item, an audible echo of hollow filled its space, as we wrenched our lives apart.
the boxes were finally packed through tears but my heart still remains in that place. it is unpacked, unsealed and yet still, incredibly moved.
you sing about packing up your life into brown boxes and i watch you and cry.
- the girl you sing about having once known.
the time was definitely different, more than a year on. yet so much remained the same, as the same crowd sat around the same table in the same exact restaurant. you two seated next to one another, and me across the opposite side, very symbolic of how this still feels. exposed.
walking towards the bus, my steps were tainted with those lies i was told, the hidden movements to cover up your truth. and i truly felt foolish, as much as the previous time. an agreeing nod to something that destroys me daily.
strong steps carried me out into the world. and i ventured, boldly into new territory in a way i can now only imagine. now, tainted by need and these dependencies, i refrain. and in edging away to diminish my fears, i perpetuate this pattern and pathway, not visited in my more youthful days. i was there, somewhat fearless and ready to take it on.
now here i sit, looking at the screen, and retreating from some options of independence.
so, as i age, please too may i stay true to the spirit of youth.
i miss the way our paths would cross. naturally, a fusion of yourself and myself, in the daily lives we lead. i miss you calling me. i miss you asking me which days in my diary are unmarked, soon to be marked for you. i wonder when you last asked. i wonder.
i wonder how you are? i mean, how you really are. i also wonder if i want to know your truthful answer. i have hopes.
i love you very much.... and today, like every other, i miss you.
as we refresh our minds
with each others faces
i buzz, to breathe you in.
and i remember all it is,
that i saw and fell quickly
your suitcase full of colours.
you, stand, radiant.
and the conversation jumps from my mind
bouncing, in characteristic trait
until, we talk of directions
we both stand.
and so, i grab you,
aware of how i feel
and too, what you are saying
i am scarred with our history and unsure,
i can be
what i once was.
and so i grab me,
and simply breathe a little.
the sun is fighting through these layers. layers of doubt, heavy with droplets of pain. clouds that hang deep into the day's beginnings. and behind, unseen, sunshine casts its warmth. and warming one side they start to move differently, affecting all who live around. until at breaking point, they cave, empty and move further away. creating blue holes into this space. fractions of colour, lighting up the array. we look out and see the range of options. we look out and see today. the sun shines on faces, reminding us.
you will always have that power over me. you can bring the brightest smile, to my familiar face in the smallest most instant of moments and then equally, quickly reduce me to tears so heavy they pull my weight into thick concrete. you have that power over me, built up through encounters, experience and constant exchange of our lives. with each look, we gained something more than sight. we gained a double vision. ourselves looking out to one another and then a view looking back in. a mirror made out of someone familiar. power.
their violins wrap around the sound itself. and the most human of instruments is charged with an emotional force beyond words. but therein lies the beauty of music. a wordless, passionate language that is without boundaries.
lets talk in music and we would speak clearly, from the heart. lets emphasize the rhythm as we walk, sustain the passion in our movements and sing with all our hearts to those around us. music can be our language of accurate communication. both love and rage, and joy and despair, warmth and silence.
you understand tones.
as the engine hums and the tyres spin out their story or just as my feet walk these steps, these journeys, my mind is on play, rewind, play. over and over. these motions. and i come back to the same thought.
if you valued this friendship as much as i ever had done and if you valued me as much as i did you, then you would have said no.
and likewise, if i valued you as little as you did me, then the fact remains that you would not even be here, in this city.
we rode through the streets of this city, lights shining on us. horns beeping, for various reasons. powered by only our legs, we smiled.
but also, as our wheels turned, we raised awareness of cyclists.
this year, on the streets of london, 3 cyclists have been killed. all by HGVs.
-a handsome university professor
-a medical student
-a radiant musician.
all three assuming they would return home, cycled. as i type, one more person is fighting for their life after being propelled through the air from the crash impact.
these are humans not statistics
my mind keeps returning to the sweetness of an evening. in itself you were beautiful. to my eyes, a little uncomfortable but i loved that you chose to be part of it, rather than an outsider. i loved that you were there. as they evening drew to a close, my insides smiled as we secretly shared a story, to which only our hearts it would make sense. and you pushed to me your plate. not an eye noticed. and i was wrapped warm in the thought that for you, i was that person.
not only do i want to share time and places together, i also aim to treat you with respect and sweetness. kind words are shared. and in times of disagreement, i aim for understanding. you are the person, that in the day to day, i will treat better than anyone else. this is what i feel maybe you do not value equally. i think this is a big difference; you feel it is okay to talk to me the way you do, to express yourself and react the way you do but not listen.
beyond it all....
i can honestly say that i have never felt desired than by you. in my everyday non-lush way, you still want me and fondly touch my hair as though i were a goddess. i have never been wanted this way, this much. and i love you for it.
also, and importantly, i have never felt as at ease to be myself in all ways, than with you. you are real and so too, you make me, with you. you know i am a person, no more.
and i love you x
as i sit here, not calling you, for fear of you not wanting to hear from me, i wonder how you are. perhaps, you are at home alone too. perhaps you have some feelings that mean you do not want to be in touch. i don't know. but the more silence there is, the more i wonder. over and over, my insecurities play. and in reality, this absence, is only making the distance stronger.
i need to make you hear my voice. and hope that it warms you somewhere sweet inside.
a little unexpected time in which to delve and so i play.
and here, with time, moving around me, i can stand still. and breathe. because in the context of movement, i can either become dynamic or i can become increasingly still. i are contextual to my background. and so, i stand either motionless, with time falling down into my hands. i hold the stillness and breathe it in. or i become what i see. i move fluidly.
and in the new found absence of rushing, i choose to sit still to write.
The Tip Jar