Woman

'bokra ahlaa'

They tell you to remember the memories you made with someone, because that's the one sustainable thing you will have once that person has left your life. I never had to worry about that; though I have managed to make memories whenever I had the chance, and wherever I went, I never had to worry about people passing me by, because I was usually the one pushing them aside and leaving them behind. It's not easy for me to open up, I bottle my feelings somewhere I can't have access to and I pretend they're not even there, and that's been my defence mechanism ever since I was fourteen years old... You'd think time could manage a wounded rhyme? Well I'm still waiting. 

I lost someone recently; someone very dear to my heart, a woman that left an impact on me I wasn't even aware of its depth until she passed away. I'm a carefully closed person; and I say that for a reason, I've already stated that it's difficult for me to talk about my feelings and so when the news had came like it was expected to come, I found myself accepting it without even a second shrug and I even managed to produce a lie: I've already made my peace with it a long time ago. The days that followed were somewhat of a blur, between the sudden moments of it hitting me, to the moments of complete and utter disbandment; how is this even fair? to the moments of me denying it even happened. What I remember most is me not giving myself time to indulge in anything, I sought distractions wherever I found any, it was almost like my defence mechanism was just lurking in the corner, and as soon as I've heard, my disguise was made-up and prepared... You'd think time would wear that ole thing down? Well I'm still waiting. 

A pure heart and a warm spirit; a spirit that truly shines on everyone, a heart that has an ability to love beyond any and everything, There's not a day that passes that I don't miss her; perhaps today more than ever, because I've finally decided to write and indulge further. I have no bad memories with her, and I can't help but think that this was the gift she left me with; and not just me but everyone. A woman that never gave up on love or the good that life has to offer even though she suffered half of hers. A woman that remembered all the birthdays and made sure to make you certain of how much love is surrounding you. A woman that always said that no matter what tomorrow always brings whats best. A woman that   held such strength that I don't think I'll ever know the real amount of. A woman that always encouraged and listened to me even when I had nothing to say. A woman that took a piece of everyone and kept it safe and covered. A woman that no words would ever be enough to hold her weight or the impact she made. A woman that loved and was loved by everyone. A woman that was all and every woman. A woman I want to see myself resembling. A woman that taught me to be an open book isn't a thing to be scared of because of fear of being misunderstood. A woman that lived half her life carrying an illness that failed to slow her down. A woman that lived her life loving people and showing them what warmth and love is truly like. 

A mother and an aunt; but preferred to be a friend above all that. I don't know how I'll come to cope or deal with any of that; since I feel like a huge part is missing, how was she able to fill such a huge gap? I can only remember what she was like, the only woman that made me think twice about the way I chose to live my life, and contemplate a way to bring my truest self out. If love alone could've saved her then she would have never died. But since everything is a test or a testament of some kind; though I know this once, the answers would be hard to find... I'll wait and I'll be waiting every time. 

A lovers dialogue pt.5

Break Ups: #1

'So you all the time' 

Girl: I think we should be friends

Guy: *laughs* Oh is that so?!

Girl: See? this is exactly what I mean when I say you don't take anything I say seriously!

Guy: Yeah, because what you're saying is bullshit

Girl: Why do you have to be 'so you' all the time?

Guy: That 'other me' is unfortunately taken today

Girl: God! you make me so angry sometimes; I can't do this anymore

Guy: You don't have to do a thing, babe. Its not like you ever did

Girl: What does that supposed to mean?!

Guy: Exactly what you think it means

Girl: Why do you always have to be so horrible?

Guy: I just say it how it is

Girl: So I guess this is a massive Piss Off to being friends then

Guy: Why do you want to be friends, if I'm so horrible?

Girl: I don't want to lose you from my life

Guy: Do you actually hear yourself when you talk?!

Girl: I'm being honest with you

Guy: No, you're not. You're being scared

Girl: What if I am?

Guy: That's not my problem anymore

Girl: It never was

Guy: Now you're just being a liar

Girl: Did you ever care, honestly?

Guy: If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here right now getting dumped

Girl: I never wanted for it to end this way 

Guy: I know

Girl: Well, isn't there anything you want to say?

Guy: No use in saying anything now

Girl: There never was any use to anything with you

Guy: *laughs* Never stop being 'so you' all the time

Girl: *laughs* I'll keep that in mind for the next time 

Guy: You should

Girl: If theres any chance we can work it out...

Guy: Theres nothing to work out, its over

Girl: *giggles* I thought I was the one doing the break up 

Guy: Oh right! well, continue, its not you its me, coming up next?

Girl: Stop stealing my lines!

Guy: But I'm so horrible, how can I not?

Girl: *laughs* I guess I should wrap this up before the table turn again 

Guy: Yeah you really should

Girl: Well, good luck and have a great life, asshole 

Guy: *laughs* Cheers

-The end- 

Forget Me

Forget me, for my sake, it was all a mistake. My words tend to shake, and yours had always failed to take shape. Forgive me, I can't pretend; to be a friend. What a cunning game you've led, that's finally coming to end.

You've lied with me once before; that was what I had always feared most; you've never asked about the heat of this soul when it was laying right before yours, never asked about the past or why it distanced me from all of those I came to pass, never asked about the me I was preparing for you to meet, never asked about the real me, the one I was waiting for you to see, never asked me any of the questions that would require of me to let you in. You've never asked a thing. 

It's over; before it even begins. That's how it usually tends to end; all in the name of self defence. Like a dark cloud you came to me, expecting to fix what was wrong within me, opened your wounds a little for me to see, and to give away a bit of my mystery, I was conscious of myself because I knew; a man in pain is unreliable and strange, a dangerous game for me to play.

A closed cabinet; like you'd say, uncomfortable with living this way; but to get hurt would be the one thing I can't accept or take. A sad girl will soak you in, to open up; you'd have to bear and hold her in, till she finally chooses to give in. A dangerous game you'd take-in. 

Forget me, and I say, before I come to change my way, to leave another mistake that is yesterday.  

pieces

"Your body like a searchlight, my poverty revealed. I would like to try your charity, until you cry: Now you must try my greed. And everything depends upon how near you sleep to me. Take this longing from my tongue, all the lonely things my hands have done. Let me see your beauty broken down, like you would do for the one you love." - LC

Somersault

And is that why they call me a sullen girl?

The way we deal with grief, defines who we are. When people find themselves struggling they tend to look for a comforting place to lay their troubles, to be welcomed with warmth and acceptance, and embraced in all willingness and with no signs of constraint. A time when what you truly need is to be read, to have someone beside you to listen to you while you confess. Here's a little segment I call: never again. 

Feeling a need for a certain thing, can be quite overpowering; to an extend where, one might say they have gone out of character to hold and obtain that thing. My mother had always been a strong figure, ever since I could remember, she taught me that the only way to go further in life is to develop a tough shell; don't lose your tears to just about anyone or anything and so I guess I grew up, mimicking what I was brought up and ought to be. A little lesson I call: not me. 

Someone once told me that, when they read the pieces I write, they feel that as if I'm cheating myself for the way I get rid of feelings and how I choose to implicate them through writings. To all it's own, sometimes verbalising can take it's toll, and in all honesty I have always had an old, odd and an irreplaceable love affair with letters in typing! If someone takes the time to read what you have to write, then why bother with saying a thing after that? A little lesson I call: chicken and egg. 

The state of being in oblivion, is without a doubt, a state I foremost cherish, however I'm not talking about unnecessary supplements when I say that (Hi, mum) no, I mean the want to get away, and escape the people and their hectic atmosphere, when you can't seem to fit in there. A fear of being forgotten is almost crippling, especially when that fear is associated with a person who tends to push when it says pull. If there was anything I would ever regret, it would be the abandoning and losing of those that matter most. The casually cruel way I always tend to go. A little lesson I call: trust issues (Bye, drake)

Everybody wants something, those that claim they don't; simply haven't figured out what it is they want, yet. I'm a liar; I choose not to tell the truth, and that is for one reason only; a truth would lead to more questions, and questions demand answers; answers that I'm not willing to give, maybe not yet. maybe not ever. Whatever it is that I'm shutting down, would probably remain that way for awhile. Indulgence was never a habit of mine; and perhaps thats a lie, however in order to properly do it, I'd have to find a way to compromise. A little lesson I am yet to understand. 

Dove Gray

Maybe all we'll ever get to have are the memories of the time we've spent together; it's been so long since we went back to that place, and perhaps that's good, you've never been the sentimental kind and my memory tend to fail me most of the time. Maybe these memories are enough of an indicator that my feelings for you were somewhat true, but what good would that do, when a distance is the only thing you've ever asked of me to do? Maybe you'll be lucky and you'll find someone new, who'll treat you the way I was always afraid to do. And maybe, just maybe you'll remember me when I said: I hope a day would come when you'll forget we've ever met.

I talk about luck when I talk about you; only because I hope your luck isn't anywhere near through, I'm not a lucky man and that I know for sure, yet I can't help but think that a silly thing like luck had led me to you, or maybe not; perhaps a coincidence is more true when I recall the way I've met you. It's funny how, after all we've been through, I still manage to talk about hope, like I haven't ran out of it too. I talk about hope but I see a different image pushing through, yet my mind still finds a way to reach you. I'm not a lucky man and you know that's true, I'd rather stand alone on a fading hope that i'll forget you.

You told me about your fears when you felt safe enough to share them with me, and I don't think I'll ever know, how much it took of you to do so. Not an easy one to read; and at first, I wished you would mislead, a tease like me, that was too easy to please. You told me about your dreams; though you've kept a few, yet a vivid image of a family by a beach is too strong to remove. You told me about yourself; but only a little, for me to understand that trust wasn't a thing you'd ever grant. As I recall how you were, and who you were, to me; all I seem to vaguely sense and see, is a fragment of a mystery.

I wonder if tonight you'll think of me, and if the mood is right; you'll decide to write for me. To be strangers is what I fear to be, but perhaps its too late for me. I'm not the one, you should be making an enemy, but if I've hurt you once; then let your walls break me. I'm not good at saying much, when its time to say enough, and so I fear a day would come, when my weighted words won't be enough.

Soft Skin

Behind the walls of shared deceit; where both their fantasies came to meet, he asked not to speak for lustful words would often mislead; a hope that he might someday decide to lead. She kissed his cheek and with no retreat, fell into a lie, she no longer sought to keep.

"You're beautiful" he breathed, against her soft skin he found an ease, he traced her figure, inhaled then exhaled the scent that glued to her skin deep, took a moment, to stop and tease; or perhaps a moment to appreciate the rare beauty that was hard to leave.

Obscure in her words, she held him close to prevent the doubt that often had him enclosed; unaware of where her mind goes, and his assumptions always made it worse, a doubt was to be in clover from fear of ever getting closer.

She gave him a part of her; a part that was abused by another, the same part he admired, another man had desired, the same part he caressed and touched down the same route another man had forced his way in to reach its bloom, the part of her that she was told beautiful, the same part both men had told her was beautiful.

To learn to love, a woman like her, who never learned that she had a thing to offer, beneath a soft skin that was her delicate cover, to learn to appreciate her true colour when its finally bared and discovered, to learn to look for the eyes that speak behind the disguise, to learn to seek then comfort the soul that was once left tattered and torn.

Give her your time when she asks for it, be patient, willingly inclined to read between the lines of who she is, give her a chance to see that there's much more to her than what he made her perceive, and finally get her to embrace that her beauty isn't a source of disgrace.

Inside their make-believe, a sentimental state in which they craved and longed to stay, a daydream they both shared, lost within the vague blissful state it made, clinging to what has come to pass, and no questions were asked, he traced her thighs with his fingers, brushing over the soft skin that made it easy to linger, she closed her eyes and inhaled the deep desire he exhaled, knowing fully what awaits her in the remains of this escape.