I imagine you sitting across me from the Dining Table
And you reach your hand out to me.
I shudder at the contact
The moment my skin feels yours.

I imagine you nuzzling my forehead
As you run your hands through my hair.
I smile at the silence
The moment your hand rests on my back.

I imagine you clutching me tighter
As I try to pull away from your embrace.
I giggle at the exasperation
The moment I chose to surrender.

I imagine you kissing me
At the time my words have been replaced and reduced by sobs

And I
The softness
The harshness
Of your lips
Fighting mine
Joining mine
As I fought
As I struggled

And at that moment
I knew
This was your way of telling me
That you felt
That you understood
Every single feeling and sensation

Of pain
Of fear
Of suffering

And the softness
And the harshness
Of your lips
Tell me
Words and things and feelings
Not of this world

I imagine you sleeping next to me
As you dream your little dreams
I cry at the miracle
The moment I finally

Saw myself
In you.


I'm Really Tired Of This, You Guys

It doesn't make a difference.

Who is here today is gone tomorrow. As I said in the past, we all lose people. Some we lose to death, some, we lose to life.

What difference does it make to have someone so close by, only to find out they've moved cities the next day, or don't, but cut you off. It's like a wound that is constantly cut open again as soon as it's healed.

Scars can only go so deep to the eye.

I was on my second set of upper body work out when I paused. And again, they all crawled out of the box I thought I'd gotten rid of. These feelings, for lack of a better word.

It doesn't make sense. 



(a.k.a. Exchange 22)

I took a mental picture
Of my hands wrapped in yours
While you fell asleep

Usually I wouldn't give in
To the idea of holding your hand
But yesterday felt otherwise

Slowly, I ran my fingers 
Through your palm
Before hurriedly slipping the back of my hand against it

And there it was
My tiny right hand 
Wrapped around your masculine right palm

Staring at it like a pinhole camera
I watched the image register in my head
Seeing every detail develop before my very eyes

It took awhile, like old pictures do - to process
And that, as much as I would have loved to take
A 2014 version of this photo

I might as well leave it as it is
This moment - genuine, unique



On Mute

(a.k.a. Exchange 21)

I realised how much I loved to see you Smile
Your Smile
When I found out how my lips touching your cheeks
Lights you up
Because I find myself
Doing it repeatedly
Even when you push me away, laughing
Because it tickles


Sensing The Senselessness

I can't be the only one who lies on the floor, cigarette in hand, wondering what in the world am I here for.

I watch the smoke dance in the air, until it becomes the air.

I do not understand any single thing happening in my life right now. And yet, here I sit, calmly typing away this entry, regretting the taste of nicotine in my mouth.

This is crass.

And I am so tired of this bullshit.
I've been so tempted to burn myself with a lit up butt just a few minutes ago, so close to cutting myself, just to see the pain flash blood red in front of my eyes.

So much pain I feel and yet none of it is visible to the eye.
It doesn't make sense that way. Why can't pain be visible. Why can't you see the scars on your skin when it feels just as bad on the inside. How can you prove to yourself that you're actually really feeling this. How can you prove to others that you deserve a little more consideration.

This is so tiring.
It's tiring to try and make sense of it all.

Why am I even here.
What's the point.

My Uncle just died of a Heart Attack and he supposedly still had a full life ahead of him. He's gone, just like that. Why can't I go the same way? It's not fair. My life doesn't even make any sense.

What's the point.