on fire, and who we've become.

i called you an old flame
to a new friend
who has never heard your name out of my lips
before

an old flame

it makes you sound like a candlestick affair

simple, small
a dinner for two
glowing dimly on
the outline of a person i could love
or did you just flicker away?

i should have called you a furnace

deep in the belly of the beast
heating everything up from the inside
thawing out the winter of my bones
defrosting a human heart
we weren't sure was there
until it started beating

i should have called you a bonfire

fueling the drunken nights
the summer nights
when everything was good
but your warmth made it better
more alive

i should have called you a wildfire

taking out everything in your path
swallowing up all the cities we dreamed for ourselves
in one great gulp
raging, as one does, until everything you touch
changed

(i lived through the night
but
for better or for worse, i'm not the same).

S.

{Photo: Rita Ji Flickr}

"What If -"

I told myself I wouldn't write about that night. And even when my mind flits over it, taunting me gently with delusions of grandeur -- placing emphasis on insignificance -- I am quick to correct it. To strip away any romanticising of the evening, and force it to remain as it was: Calm, natural, and - for what counts - meaningless.

 That human part of me longs to pick it apart. To piece together something from nothing, as the saying goes.

But if I know me, I know that the story I'd like to create is a little too enchanting; a difficult one to put down. I know this because I've already had to. Many times over. I spin an small parting word into a soliloquy, a comment into a ballad. I forget that the pair of us are strangers, really. And not good ones at that: continually running from the others life. Or was that only me? (No).

When I look back on the past year, I see how our lives were so shaped by our movements. I - we - could never stand stoic long enough to see anything beyond the moment. There was never time to allow things to unfold. That was our mistake. That - and my insufferable need to bar myself from saying, out loud, what I assumed you already knew. 

You asked a question, before I disappeared again - off to bask myself in the forgiving sun of Italy, and give my heart to France's charm. Almost rhetorical. But I knew it wasn't that. 

I answered wrong. 

In part, because I didn't understand your meaning when the words first broke the silence. But, I think more than that, because it didn't matter. It shouldn't have, anyways. But as it consumes me softly, day by day, I see that it must matter more to me than anything I've known before.

I wish I had been brave enough to let you see then what was inside my heart - 

and what was not. 

S. 

{Photo via: We Heart It}

Trick of the light.

I found out today that that smile isn't just for me. Not that I should have thought it so. But still.
It changes things, I think.

Maybe it gives it less power over me. Knowing that it has been used - is being used - on others. Knowing it's been weakening more knees than my own, well, perhaps it makes mine stronger.

I like to think so, anyhow.
But truth be told, I may soon forget. Oh, as soon as it's shot in my direction again, I imagine.

For I am a stupid girl. Oh, so very stupid. And I forget what a cynic I am. I forget that I've given up on love, and on true, honest men that can be devoted to one woman for the rest of their lives. I forget that words like "love" and "forever" were made up by cruel people behind books, instruments and Hollywood posters with nothing to do but inflict a cold, hard misery on real life for the sake of a best seller or a good show. I forget so much with a glance.

With a glance, I believe in faithful partners. In lasting love. In honest answers. In trust and trustworthiness. --- All fake. All blind. All made up for a story with a happy ending.

It's time I woke up. It's time I opened my eyes. It's time I said goodbye.

S.

{Photo via: We Heart It}

This Is For You.

I have far too much pride
For a girl who says the wrong things
And I have far too little strength
For a girl who's set to fight

I have far too much unrest
For a girl who lives by dreaming
And I have far too little faith
For a girl who must believe

The truth is that I miss you
And I ruined what we had
I've been looking in the wrong places
Trying to find the right

The truth is, I am worried
That this life won't meet my fancy
And the truth is, that I'm longing
For something I can hold tight

I do not want to leave with things as they are. I'm sorry.

S.