Do You Remember

It was midnight, the sky was deep blue; almost black, a silent night with most of the shops closed, only a few restaurants were open with even fewer people inside. A red light flashed, and the car stopped next to a take-away restaurant, I turned to look at the small chinese place with the olive-green coloured door, and caught glimpses of blank expressions and tired postures, people standing in line to put in their order, the car started to move again before I had enough time to take in the faces; faces of strangers that I'll never be able to recognise, as the car took a turn into the main street, I wondered about them and how I'm most likely to pass them by if I was to ever walk down that street, I chuckled then sighed at the irony of it all; for life is just that; sequences of appearances then passing on, nothing more.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked me while placing his hand by the radio player to lower the volume, the station that was on, was playing folk tunes, whispering nostalgia to every listener, I looked at him to find him staring at the road, the singer's voice was starting to fade out, repeating the words: 'Come home to me darling, come home to me' Her plea that dripped of longing made me wonder whether that home was an actual place or a time, was that same longing wrapped up in hope for a better ending? That the lover would come home to her if he was gone, or return to her, if he had left her? How deep in poison is longing? There really is no remedy for it once it pervade.

"You're strangely distant today" He whispered, staring at me with the sides of his eyes, I smiled and turned to face him "Strangely?" inquiring with curiosity, his eyes gleamed and were focused on the road again "Yeah, sometimes I can guess whats on your mind, but not tonight" I stared at him as the city lights were painting his face, he never looked more beautiful than tonight.

"Do you remember the first time you saw me?" I asked him without taking my eyes away, he eyed me for a second then looked ahead "Yeah" was his response, hesitated for a bit then said "It was around this time, wasn't it?" I nodded, "I still remember you back then" he said quietly, reflecting upon a memory, "What was I like?" I whispered, "Lost" he whispered back then laughed, I rolled my eyes yet couldn't help but laugh too, a memory of a terrified girl in a new city, asking for directions in the subway, rushed into my brain, what a distant time it seemed to me now.

"I was such a wreck" he looked at me quickly then said "No, you weren't, you didn't look as scared as -I'm sure- you must've felt" I shuddered my shoulders, "And if you were, I wouldn't have noticed, I was just really glad you ended up riding my train... No pun intended" he laughed as I rolled my eyes at him smiling, "You had a journal with you" He proceeded after a few seconds, deep in thought, "A black one; with a grey ribbon tied around it, a pen placed between the pages, that made me think that, you've been writing either that morning or only a couple of hours earlier. Your hair was in a bun and you were wearing a short black dress, and black shoes. You sat next to me and kept apologising every time you asked about the station we were approaching... It was so annoying" I giggled when I remembered the amount of 'I'm so sorry to bother you again' I must've said that day.

His eyes were fixed on the road, smiling as he spoke "You smelled good though, so I didn't mind" I let out a loud laugh, as I did not expect that response from him "Thank goodness for that" I said sarcastically, he took his hands off the steering wheel, raising them then mouthing 'Amen' before slowing the car down then stopping at a red light, "I remember wishing that train would never stop or reach a destination" he said staring at me, "You drew me in completely and more so effortlessly, I was hooked" I looked away, as the car started to move again, trying to catch my breath and my thoughts one by one.

"I remember your face and calm demeanour, the way you took the time to think deeply about every question and your awkward laughter when I asked if you were a writer, you shook your head and said 'Words tend to leave me hollow', then I asked if I could read your journal, you handed it over almost immediately, leaning forward whispering 'Here you go, total stranger' and then chuckled in that cute way you do" I giggled "Yeah exactly like that" he said smiling, before turning to face me with fierceness, "What is it?" I asked, baffled, "Its you" he said while pulling the car over to the side of the road and switching off the engine.

"When you gave me your journal to read that day, most of the writings were scribbled over in a bundle of ways, at first it was confusing to understand what was going on, and almost everything written seemed like an inner conversation that was well over my head, but still... There was something more, I don't know how to explain it, the way you write is very personal yet it doesn't really say much about you, its as if you give the reader fragments promising that the whole thing is coming up yet it never does. When I was reading, I saw vague parts of you; a girl that was trapped in her own mind, that reflects a lot on her surroundings, that craves a deeper understanding yet doesn't quite know how to have it"

He placed his thumb over my lower lip, sensing my deep and heavy breathing, with his eyes fixed on mine, he proceeded "You infatuate those that read you, because they feel like they've tabbed into the real you. You write bare, thats the impression you give anyway, when in fact, there's more layers that even you don't know about, and never really tried to. See, you somehow managed to convince yourself that someone else would peel you, and sure enough all of those that came close to do so, you've pushed away because you'd rather be a forever-mystery than a forgotten-memory"

A single tear rolled down my cheek, he brushed it with his thumb, I could hear my heartbeat filling the space of the car, his eyes did not turn from mine "Do you want to know why I didn't ask for your number that day on the train, even when every cell in my body was begging me to?" I shook my head and another tear rolled down, dropping to my skirt "Its because you were unreal; incredibly so. You embodied the phrase of 'too good to be true' for me, and I wanted to leave you that way, to remember you like that, a girl that sat next to me on a train and offered me a piece of her mind and heart, I couldn't ask for more... I could, but I didn't want to. I wanted you to remain a story I tell myself, cause I knew you were like no one else"

He took my hands in his, rubbing them together, before uttering "Of course, I regretted that decision as soon as you stepped off the train, I think I might've beaten myself up about it more than necessary, and then tried to find solace in the dreams I kept having of you in the nights that followed" he went quiet for a few minutes then said "You couldn't possibly imagine what I was feeling when I saw you again in that station, weeks after that first encounter; around the same time you were starting to become a myth, you appeared again in order to set me straight... And well, the rest is history"

Turning away to switch on the engine again, he smiled saying "You remain a mystery, in a way, you'll always be, and I'm fine with that. See, even at days when you're strangely distant, you still find your way back, I can never be mad after that. Now enough questions we need to get home before sunrise, are you in the mood for chinese food? I think we passed a place earlier"

I nodded, taking back his hand to hold, with my other hand I raised the volume of the radio with an indie tune blasting over, leaning to his side, I kissed his ear before whispering "I love you more each day" then went back to the seat, falling into sleep as a light drizzle outside, started to proceed. 

Religion & Me

People that pick their noses 

and keep going at it... 

you're fingering 

yourself, mate

estagfurAllah, aldonya Ramadan 

When you squeeze an orange, until your hand managed to forcefully abstract all the liquid out, to leave a dry-dead looking skin of nothingness at the end of the process (actually that dry-dead skin can be used as a face-mask once heated and mutated, that poor thing; literally went from an orange to a "thing") notice how bad I am with metaphors, and following them up? *ABORT; says disengaged brain* well, here I go again, hand-in-hand with nonsense by my side, buckle down, brain. Buckle down. 

I flinch every time there's a discussion about Religion, I'm not sure whether I was brought up in an oblivious environment where discussions of that sort weren't talked about as they should've/could've been, perhaps it was an observe-and-copy environment where questions felt unnecessary to barge in, later felt a sense of unwelcome, or maybe I'll just blame it on the media because we all know it as the spawn of Satan (everyone is playing that blame-game nowadays) no matter what the reason is, I'll need to get over my preprogrammed anxiety and write what it is I think (I can only hope my prefrontal cortex isn't effected by the fast) 

Like everyone else, I've contemplated about existence, essence and left a blank space underneath the existential questions, because -to be honest- I am deep to my neck with uncertainty whenever I try to tackle any of it. This is my -surely humble- point of view regarding Religion, and I do not wish to discuss any other aspect that hangs with to contradict, be it; the universe and how it seemingly stretched from nothing, how it will supposedly return to nothing, what happens to our atoms once our bodies cease to function, if our energies could be transferred, the freaking evolution of homo sapiens. Na Bruv, I'm not doing none of that. 

Instead, I'll talk about my set of beliefs (raised upon and acquired) that should make me feel "good about myself" once they're applied and lived by, and why its never as simple as that. 

Islam -to me- is a religion that encompasses many layers, when I tried to take it for its literal sense, I found a gap between us as large as the Pacific Ocean, I couldn't relate, the severity of its punishments, the rigidity of its disciplines, the ancient history of its sacred book, I was a foreign in an unfamiliar land, failing to fit in, I didn't have a hard time believing (although weeds of doubt grew now and again) the difficult time was spent practicing, I applied myself, attempting to find it within me to realise why I was doing it, why I was praying, what did I go through during the prayer and what did I feel afterwards? the answer was a flatline of nothingness. 

So basically, you mean to say, you were going through the motions to trigger the emotions? (Yes, captain cliche of all cliches) that was basically it, it also didn't help that all I was exposed to, from the media, was the 'wrong kind of Islam', you know the ones that take God's matters into their own hands, that believe they're Prophets in their own right, that know nothing about their religion but its rules and punishments. 

Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) is the last prophet to carry the final answers from God to the people, through the Koran and his many sayings and stories that I'm learning about, I say the final answers but there's really one question that comes to the minds of people "What is my purpose in life?" and the answer to that, is actually quite simple if I was to take it from the perspective of Islam: to believe in the articles of faith, to carry out the five pillars, to refrain from all of which that is haram (forbidden), and to spread the message of Islam. 

Life is granted not possessed, that's the core asset in understanding Islam, this life we're living now, is a steppingstone to the afterlife, where you are either to be rewarded for your good deeds or punished for wasting the life that was given in evil deeds or no deeds at all. It goes with the saying, many muslims (and most non-musilms) believe in: 'Everything is a test from God' basically what that means, is that God is watching your every move, nothing is random, you are constantly placed in situations that test your faith, your oath, to see how strongly you believe, how sincerely you're carrying out the message.

It goes without saying that there are a lot of forbidden pleasures in Islam (pleasure isn't really the word here, but for lack of a better term) and life is filled with temptations, when I first read about Islam (for pleasure, again for lack of a better term) (can you imagine if a writer wrote a novel composed of sentences ending with 'for lack of a better term' how satire is that? I would pay for that) anyway, I took in the literal sense of the text, and I found myself unable to comprehend let alone apply it to my life, and that is where I took a detour. 

Why did God forbid Adam and Eve from the tree of knowledge? why did He send them to the garden of Eden if they would disobey Him? Was it so that they would inhabit the Earth and begin what was yet to be known as the humankind? Was it a punishment for the first example of disobedience and the suffering that followed it? Or was it to show the story (the legend) of how weak human beings are against temptations (in all its different facets)? Why was shame the first emotion they felt when they became aware of each others nudity? Is that why we grow up hiding ourselves embarrassed by the mere mention of the human form? Is shame the feeling that we ought to associate with sin? Why didn't they feel guilt immediately for doing what God ordered not to? If following the rules is what God wants from us, and breaking them is what the Devil is after, what does that make us... pawns? 

See now why I fringe at discussions about Religion, almost always the endless cycle of questioning is interrupted by a strange abstract thing lurking in, fishing for doubts which form from the absence of answers, trying to catch me, and its goes by the name of Atheism. 

I remember having a conversation with a friend once, about how underwhelmed she felt when the topic of Judgement Day was brought up, her argument was basically centred around how the universe was filled with so many wondrous limitless opportunities and a bunch of many other variables that line up together, that we won't even have time to make sense of, before the end of the world, as we came to know it, where we stand to be questioned about what we've done in that particular day of that particular year and so and so. I don't remember how that conversation ended, and I don't think I've tried to argue to what I "believe" would actually happen, for it is written and those who read about it, can have a picture of what it would be like, and here I go, stumbling again. 

Allow me to pick myself up. 

The signs to the end of the world are both major and small, the major 'time-changing' are yet to happen, though the small ones are happening as we are living now, I'm not going to go through them, in all honesty I don't remember them with clarity, what I can however talk about, is the picture of the last judgment, the one I was raised to believe would happen, from teachings at schools to videos of religious scholars on youtube (as real as it gets, yo) the humankind is called upon to raise from the dead, everyone for his/herself; except those who loved one another under God's name, lived to spread His message and strengthen their faiths together, those are hand-in-hand walking toward their judgement, and those who were not following in God's orders (after taking his name) are running in wild fear without much awareness, the sun is right above the heads, and all are waiting to see, which eternity they'll fall into. Some muslims will run with the speed of light through the bridge leading up to Heaven (Alseerat Al mostageem) those are the ones who lived by God's wishes and have spread His message, others will walk in slowly balancing between their deeds and some will crawl, chained to the deeds that will eventually lead them to punishment.

Another image is the white fabric that will be covering the naked bodies, this fabric will extend according to the person's actions, some will have a full garment and others only shreds. Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) will be the first to lead his nation to the doors of Heaven, the first to knock and the first to be welcomed, he is the one that will quench the thirsts and lead every muslim to his/her place in heaven. Some would have castles and others would have a small space, all depending on their actions on earth. 

Disclaimer: No research went into the accuracy of this, this is nothing other than the ranting of a girl, working her way out of incoherent thoughts, in an attempt to understand what it is she doesn't. I know nothing. 

Reasonable questions that are worth mentioning; why is Islam the final religion for mankind? Why is it the one that'll stand the course of time? Why was Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) chosen? Why wasn't there any documented miracles during his time, forcing the non-believablers to change their minds like the Prophets before him? 

Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) was illiterate, and that's the first fact, that is usually poked on to mock the religion as a whole. I honestly believe reading the Koran and understanding it, is the first step towards killing the weeds of doubts, stories that are documented carries within them depth into the true nature of life, and what we are doing, why we are doing it and whom we are serving. Of course religions before such carried answers too, but Islam is different, in a sense of God's entrusting His message with a man who passed every single test was placed upon him, Muhammed (SAAWS) lost both of his parents at a young age; having never actually met his father and watched his mother dying before his own eyes, he was placed at the guardianship of his grandfather who was the first to notice that he was different, he used to bring him to meetings with him, but instead of playing Muhammed (SAAWS) used to listen, and take in everything that was said, from an early age he was developing his abilities to think and reflect. 

After the death of his grandfather, he was then placed at the guardianship of his uncle, who took him gladly, and Muhammed (SAAWS) worked for many years, starting at the age of nine as a sheepman, then at 15 as a seller (again, I did not check those facts) he was known for his hard work and dedication, his honesty and humility. When I spoke of tests, I meant the losing of those closest to him, Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) realised -from such a young age- what grief and loss truly felt like, how fleeing life actually is, and that wasn't enough to keep him away from the society in which he partook in. Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) was known for his reflections and contemplation, his solitude at Cave Hira in the mountains is the perfect example for when he was seeking answers to the many questions clouding his mind; a notion I know many including myself went (and will continue to go) through. 

I'm not going to write a historical post, instead I would like to answer some of the questions, I stated earlier, I believe that Islam is the final religion for a reason; Koran is composed of stories of pervious times and times still ahead, it surpasses the time in which it was revealed, and the time in which we live in now, I guess I'm trying to say its timeless and that's why its not affected by the passage of time. God breathed His spirit unto Adam, we are all born with an intrinsic essence that somehow speaks to us; call it conscience or soul, regardless of the name, its there, and its the one that determines how we feel about ourselves. Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) was chosen for he embodied all the traits of an inspiring teacher and mentor, he was not only a messenger of God, he was able with his characteristics to effect the course of an entire nation and the many that followed and keep following it. 

There's this question that goes 'If you could invite three people to dinner with you -alive or dead- who would you pick?' I would love to invite Prophet Muhammed (SAAWS) to hear more of his stories and see for myself the enigma that he is. PBUH. 

Just saying. 

There weren't any miracles during the spreading of the message of Islam, and I think that was because the era of miracles was over, Islam came with a direct message; the first word from God to come down on Muhammed (SAAWS) was 'Read' and I believe that thats truly all you need to know, this religion's sole purpose is to teach people to read and become educated so that they'll built and develop worthwhileness in this life. During the early times of the message Muhammed (SAAWS) built Dar Airqm where teachings about Islam and the Koran was being held for the followers to become more informed; they did not follow blindly, they understood the text, something that I think we lack in our time. 

When I pray, my ability to be mindful and present is often transient, I struggle through my urge to fight the distractions and desire to cave in, a reason behind this, could be repetitiveness, I don't need to tell you, how easy it is (in this day and age) for the brain to find dull spots during the day, and praying everyday like its a chore you're supposed to be doing isn't what praying is about, I heard this story about a man who described praying as his personal time with God, he would shake sometimes reduced to tears when he becomes aware of how magnificent and grand the meeting actually is, another story about a man who cried during a prayer, when asked why, he said he was filled with weary and agony because life and its endless distractions managed to take his mind away during prayers, he felt sorry for himself... and I'm sure there are countless other stories, but you get my point. 

I could only wish to arrive at that stage, where reciting Koran during prayer leaves my spine tingling, where the comfort we humans so desperately seek, I can find during my personal time with God. There is no denying that I have felt an emptiness recently, perhaps what's changed is that I can be more articulate when describing it, cause I've grown more accustomed to it, either way I would like to ask you to ask yourself this question: is everything felt in-half here? by here I mean life, Is there a reason why happiness doesn't last nor does sadness, why satisfaction isn't 100% granted? Is it because that's all we're meant to have? and that the other half or perhaps the full pie is savoured for Heaven? 

Its not simple math, struggling to carry out His message is only natural. Life is wonderful, it was granted for living and making the most of it. Yet it's not ours to claim, perhaps thats why I heard so many stories about people (muslims in particular) in their death beds; seeming serene to have found something we living are still searching for, they've let go of their grasp in life, perhaps that's where comfort comes around. Morbidness step aside. 

This isn't one of those 'shed a light on' posts, I do not want to defend my religion, nor justify the horrible acts some people carry under its name. I simply want a platform where I can stand upon, even when mistakes are made, and be able to bounce back. When I was younger the last thing I inquired of someone was their believe system, and now that I'm a bit older, it remains the same. I am trying to understand myself better, and faith is only reinforcing that. 

Disclaimer (2): I am not isolating myself nor do I advocate that, I am also not in the business of converting anything, this is nothing other than the ranting of a girl who's spilling her mind into a keyboard. 

PS: That orange was a metaphor for my mind. 

PPS: I'm so lame. 

Demons

This little faith
I'm cursed with
These silenced
screams,
At the back of my throat
I'm choked with

This black void
Of nothingness
These running rounds
Of emptiness
Shorten of breaths
To illusive happiness

This desperation
In fatigue
This loneliness
Of defeat
This heart,
That can't be healed

On my knees,
You stare me down
I hear a sound
'Old friend of mine,
Its all over now' 

Blank Page

A blank page
Running ink, waiting
Perhaps I'll write a letter,
Of hope
To my mother,
Not to lose herself
In a failed marriage
That sunk her spirit,
Too deep to recover

I'll write another one
To my father,
With a mere mention
A simple act of attention
Could have prevented
A hole, that cracked
His family in whole

I'll write to my brothers
A prudent letter,
Scented with dreams
Of a better life
The only true wish
I ever had

Perhaps I'll write a letter
To myself,
Of where I am now,
And what led me to this
The past, I find an obstacle
Though, I have accepted
It as it is, for what it was
Yet can't seem to understand
Why? 

A few questions are left
Unanswered
All I have, with me
Is a blank page
Of truths, unspoken  

Lies

Do you remember the first lie you've told? I could pull a guess out of the guesses hat and say no, knowing that its a rather impossible one to recall, since that distant time, we were born into this world, we learned how to manipulate our mothers to do (pretty much) everything we want. Sounds strange because it happened, and crying was the mean of how it all manifested, but then again, I don't think its manipulation as much as it is selfishness, our mothers are our attachment figures after all, so its only natural we'd want them close, and we'd use the only mean (trick) to make sure that happens. No really, its rather cute.

The reason why I've started this with a question, and somehow managed to speak for the reader (which I apologise for doing) is because I've always been fascinated with lies, no matter what "true content" they were covering, and "fake content" they were presenting. Lies are deceitful, but theres more, like flashes of light, so many of the lies I've told are clouding my mind as I'm writing this now, and though I won't argue that I (unfairly) refused the truth; like I'm sitting in an exam, faced with a multiple choice question and none of the options rang "fact or true" so I picked up the pencil, and wrote down an option, then highlighted it as true. A lie is just another option, another story that fits your preferences perfectly.

Lies displays insecurities, when you're trying to impress, you're most likely to exaggerate yourself and your story; like inflating skin with allergy, you'll be itching for ways to make your story as exciting as it could get, distorting its true corners a little more than necessary but eventually you make it to the "true destination" of the story. Or you could be one of those, that don't really see that grey area, and so you dismiss your story completely, and go for a totally invented, shaped as its being mentioned story; a lie.

Whats worse than being lonely, is people knowing that you are. Many of the lies born out of insecurities are told by the lonely ones, what are insecurities, if nothing other than constraining fears, these lies only conceal truths, you'll know more about the person through their lies, what it is they're trying to hide, is offered within and between the lies.

I'm not quite sure if I'll be going somewhere with this post, and by somewhere I mean a destination that'll lead to a closure or a final statement, usually those things require from you, that you'll stick to your starting statement, and since that statement was a question with a yes or no tail, this post could've been over before it began, and I wouldn't be facing this intersection right now, so for the sake of not moving further, only to be fidgeting with thoughts more, I'll stop here. 

Remedies

Are you conscious of the space 

your absence creates? 

I believe that we as human beings, are more complex than we think, but not as nearly as we act to be. I have discovered a pattern recently that had set my whole being into a state of disturbance; similar to an out-of-control noise making machine, or one of those trashy lights you see at cheap clubs, that are too shockingly bright, they blind. I've discovered that I lose myself everyday, that my peace of mind, my vibe (I love that one word) was fleeing away, and I didn't know how to get it to stay. Everyday is different, though it might not seem that way to the outside eye, everyday I learn something different, I unlearn something, shifting my perception in the right way, I feel different; every waking moment, carries with it a new emotion or sensation, penetrating my walls, and exposing my light to the world. Its everything. I want to find myself again. I want to reconnect again.

I'm interested in people; more specifically their minds, hearts, spirits, and the different atoms that shape their personalities. My curiosity is like a burning candle, heating its surrounding, providing warmth and most importantly lighting a fire of connection, and leaving ashes of understanding. Coincidences sparking conversations, exchanging ideas, jumping on frequencies, and unravelling truths. I've realised that people have nothing to hide, once they are shown that there's no reason to, remember when we used to complain about trust, how many of us didn't demonstrate their trustworthiness to begin with? And that will come about, once you let yourself be shown. I grew, moulding myself into a fixed structure, I did not know how many layers of cynicism, I've sought to suffocate myself with, I fell hard into a bottomless pit, reaching up only to knock myself back down, all the while thinking: 'familiar is comfortable' I think it was the lies I told myself, that kept me captive for so long.

My heart is anxious, but its also sacred. A gift of intensely feeling everything, always sparked an interest in me, and quite a few people seemingly intimidating but actually courageous, held that gift. Fear is real, I've always wondered about the person(s) I'll pour portions of myself into. I lust for a conversation at 2AM, spending hours thinking and painting words, the other person, beside me, with a canvas laid out in front of us. Go. Go. It's that simple. Love does not know fear, you do. From my experiences, we start with cautious and deliberate, with both sides offering secondhand flattery, skilfully playing a game of hide-and-seek, only to realise, that both armours weren't conquered, preventing anything raw from entering. I crave to find a connection, in the empty spaces between words, to awaken truths in the other person, to feel together, and learn together, I don't believe in prerequisites or promises, no matter where we both end up; even if apart, I'd be comforted knowing that, I carried a piece of them with me and they did the same. I desire intensity, the sort of beauty that captures everything.

In my solitude, there's serenity.
In my heart, there's hope.
In my mind, there's curiosity.
In my soul, there's patience.
In my life, there's good. 

Try

 He eyed me with suspicion, narrowing his eyes to examine me, I felt somewhat uncomfortable and I hated it, I don't remember ever experiencing discomfort when we were together, but I guess, that's the thing about memories, they tend to be selective when it comes to me.

"Why are you here?" He stood up, walked towards me to take the box, and placed it by the fireplace, then gestured for me to take a seat, I shook my head and he sighed, we were both standing awkwardly, a thought of leaving passed through me, but I dismissed it as soon as it appeared, I wanted to savour what little time I had left with him, even if that time meant remembering him this way. 

"We didn't get a chance to talk, last night" 

"Yeah, you seemed busy" 

"You left early" 

"Its not really my scene" 

"I wish we've talked" 

"I know" 

He reached ahead and grabbed my hand, leading me towards the sofa so we'd both take a seat, I looked down at our hands interlocking in a tight grip, time stood still whenever that happened, to an outside eye, it would look like its a habit that needs to die, but him and I both knew, it was much more than that.

"What is it?" He said as he grasped my hand tighter, "Tell me" I could taste the curiosity in the air he breathed unto these words, for a moment, I saw him; he was back, not the distant man I came to know now, but the one I've fallen for, the first time we've met. 

"I'm scared" I spoke with what little I had to give, he brushed my hand with his thumb, placing his other hand around my shoulder, silence was the only way he communicated with me through times like this, hardly ever mouthing a word, yet always ending up saying a lot. 

"What scares you?" 

"Moments" 

"Like this?" 

"Yes" 

"Why?" 

"They're not enough anymore" 

He let my hand free, standing up instantly, and walked to the fireplace, didn't say a word as he stared down at the box, I watched his back tense, his heavy sighs, alone on his sofa, with my hand held open, I stood up and walked to where he was standing, he turned around to face me, I took him in an embrace, to ease the pulsating heartbeats, feeling the hesitated breaths on my neck, I sighed then backed away, resisting an overwhelming craving, that was about to carry us both away. 

"You can't do this" He said with a hint of pain adapting his voice, staring at the fireplace as he spoke, "I tried to understand you, but you never allowed it" his eyes looked fierce, with a wild reflection of heat surrounding them, "I wanted to learn about you, but you never gave me a chance" he turned his face away, as his eyes started to water, I stood there speechless, chocking with the desire to bare myself, and the fear surrounding it. 

"I'm sorry" I whispered after a few minutes had passed, "I shouldn't have come" He turned around as soon as the words were uttered, "Why are you here then?" I looked around the room, hiding my eyes from his intense gaze, he grabbed my jaw with his hand, taking me by surprise, "You can't keep doing this" he hissed, before letting go, walking back to where we were seated with despair following on his footsteps.

"You don't know how to be real" He spoke, dangling with words, staring at me with a look of someone who'd given up, "That's why you're here now, you want another memory; a story to tell yourself when you leave" I stood startled in my place as I've realised coming over was a bad idea, thoughts were rushing through my mind, of a better time, a beginning where there weren't any challenges or troubles, only a couple of intrigued strangers lacking the knowing.

"I don't like being exposed"
"Who broke you?"
"Stop"

I turned around, walking towards the door to leave, he met me halfway, blocking me, I looked at him, he was staring back with the same intense gaze of earlier, placing his right hand around my waist, as if to prevent me from moving any further, I dropped my gaze to the floor, trying to hide myself again, to no success, he lifted up my face with his other hand, with a smile fleeing too soon, inhaling before he said

"It's okay, I'm here"
"I'm scared"
"Of what?"
"Anything real"
"Is that why you've disappeared?"
"Its why I always disappear"
"Who broke you?"
"I don't want you to fix me"
"I don't want that either"

"What do you want then?"
"I want you"
"This is me"
"There's more to you than this"
"No"
"I want the other parts of you"
"What parts?"
"The ones you hide from yourself"
"Why are you doing this?"
"I wish you would include me"
"I don't know if I can"
"Try"

He took my hand in his, leading me towards the sofa, pressing my fingers to his knuckles, I sat down beside him, inhaling my desire, and exhaling my fear, while he calmly smiled, I relaxed my muscles, knowing there was no going back after this.