Let’s dance. Let’s dance.

 

lovers-dance-night-long-exposure-timelapse-1

Is it true that falling in love feels like walking the plank into a sea of raging waters?
Is it true that it feels like swallowing a handful of chocolate covered nails?
When you fall in love, does it really feel like you’re plummeting down a bottomless pit?
Does love really feel like a lump of coal settled in your throat, so that the air cannot make its way to your lungs?
What I mean is,
does love suffocate?
does it feel like the world is finally ending, or is it just the beginning?
Does love dangle shamelessly out of your reach?
Smirking at you and saying catch me if you can?
Does it feel like a thousand pins poking you at the ribs?

No?

Well, can we say that falling in love feels like floating on a mass of soft white feathers?
Does it feel like floating from cloud to cloud, unaware of the oceans raging below?
Does love feel like heaven on earth?
Or is it simply heaven?
Does it feel like a single yes after a million nos?
Does it feel like you’re making your way through the dark cold alleys of humanity, guided by the warm hands of the one you choose to love?
How does it feel to realize that someone chose you? They saw your human right from the start, but decided to stay. They loved the parts of you that even you didn’t dare care to see.
Does love feel like hearts set to rhythm and dance?
Does it feel like souls with hands outstretched?
Does it feel like finding your missing piece,
is it the mating of souls?
Is love the constant breaking and mending of hearts?

I have a million questions about love, because before I met you I had no idea what it meant to fall in love.
Funny isn’t it? Here’s this thing I had never experienced before, but the moment I felt it, I knew exactly what it was. The moment I chose you, I knew I loved you.

My heart sings for you,
and no,
not those silly tired love songs.
It’s a sick rap,
raw and real.
It’s an upbeat electro tune whose hook is stuck on my mind
all. the. time.
I have you on repeat
I pray that this well of ours never runs out of love
I pray that the music never stops
And when you see me reach out to turn off the power on this our radio, I want you to hold my hand and turn the volume up instead. Because believe me, I will be afraid that the music will fade on its own. I will want to turn it off on my own terms. I will want to give up before the music gives up on me. I will tire of dancing to the same tune over and over again. It is then that I need you to change the station, or shuffle the playlist. It is then that I will need you to hold my hand and lead me back to the dance floor. It is then that I will need you to love the music for the both of us.

dance of love

And when you get tired of the fast beats,
I will slow down the tempo
I will turn the volume down so we can both catch a breath
I will sit with you on the floor of our love,
marinate slowly,
kinda like that chicken salad you love so much.
Because I know how important it is for you to slow down,
take things in stride.
I don’t want you to ever feel overwhelmed.
Because I know then, you will sneak out the back door. I know then, I will see your mouth form those dreaded words. I will hear muffled sounds of something about breaks and commitment and goodbyes and it’s not you it’s me and I hope we can still be friends. I will hear my heart explode in my chest. I will feel my soul drain from me, one tear at a time.

So for now,
Let us dance
Let us love
Let us let the beat take control and do its thing
Because love is at its best when it is free.

Goodbye

the end

I weep at my door
trying to pick up the pieces of you you left scattered on my heart’s pain-tiled floor.
trying to glue back the scattered glass
of what used to be the windows to my soul
You brought my house down
only not the way you did before. Not the nice kind of bringing-the-house-down

I see you, I see me
so unlike how we used to be- together.
I cry for you
I don’t care that it’s spilled milk.
I will sit here
in this puddle of milk and tears
miss the honey that was your love, sugar.

I miss you,
everyday.
Miss the subtle conversations of our hearts,
the inside jokes.
Truth be told, we had none. But who knows? If you’d stuck around maybe we could have.
We knew how to love each other, didn’t we?
I guess not.

I loved you,
who am I kidding?
I love you.
Still
And even more foolishly,
I want you back.
I want you here.

Oh, won’t you stay with me?
‘Cause you’re all I need
This ain’t love, it’s clear to see
But darling, stay with me

I weep at my door
Waiting.
Hoping.
Wanting and wishing.
That you’d see how good we are for each other.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Wanting and wishing.
That this impossible love will evaporate
from my being.
Waiting to forget you
Hoping that outside this door sits a brighter day
Wanting to be free from the bondage that is this cursed love and wishing my pencil had never broken during that Calculus exam.

Why am I so emotional?
No, it’s not a good look, gain some self-control

That shouldn’t be too hard, though.
You sucked at love,
at forgiveness,
at intimacy and sentimentality.
You sucked even worse at goodbyes,
so here’s a lesson for you

Goodbye.


Post inspired by Stay with Me, Sam Smith (Lyrics in Italics)

 

I Will Sit Here and Judge You

club dance

I will sit here and judge you,
the whole lot of you.

Giggle at the girlfriend
who won’t stop scowling at her boyfriend.
She’s drinking Tusker,
the one my father used to drink too.
Wonder why she came at all
won’t say a word,
threatens to leave every ten minutes.
Ignores him for the next five hours she’ll be here
and still fuck him
when they get home.

I’ll sit here and laugh
at the broad that swears
she won’t touch that Jameson,
but is the one downing shot after shot
by 11pm,
as though her life depends on it,
on the next shot.

The sour-faced one
in the corner
that chases her Jameson
with a side of ice, lemon and ‘swag’.

The guy
who won’t touch his drink
till he’s catered to his stomach
Yet is still the one that has to be carried home.

The one,
whose blood
yearns for a fight.

The missus nursing her can of Guarana,
she is a sticky note on her boyfriend’s elbow
warning and warding off any would-be-fries,
chipo,
yani one night stand.

The boyfriend and girlfriend that look alike
Your friend suggests,
that’s what happens when you have lots of sex with the same person
You start to look like them,
smell like them,
think like them,
pee like them, even.

The chap that just managed
to convince his girlfriend
he’s about to call it a night.
The Girl tugging at his shirt
is an indication of anything but.

I’ll laugh at the Girl
that sits in her corner of silence.
Smiles and laughs
at the jokes her soul makes.
Judges the crowd
in the comfort of her silence.

And when she rises to sway to the music,
I will laugh still,
because
I will be right there next to her.
I will be her.

I will be her.
Wholly.
Selflessly.
Selfishly.
The Girl who decided it was a good idea to come alone to a party with couples.

Perhaps

prhaps

Perhaps,
the only reason I believe people always leave
is because
I
always
do.

And the reason I have trust issues
is because
I
can’t
be
trusted.

Maybe I always want what I can’t have,
always desire what’s not mine.

Maybe I hate love
because I’ve wasted
every
chance
I
ever
had.

Perhaps happy couples make me want to barf because I couldn’t commit if it saved my life.

Maybe I fell in love with the wrong seed, watered it and watched it grow into a lover that stifled my willpower each chance he got?

Maybe it’s because each time your boyfriend smiles at me from across the table,
with you right beside him,
my heart flutters just a bit.
Especially when you’re dancing with him.
If I’m lucky, he’ll send a wink my way
as your hips gyrate violently against his groin,
and his eyes want only me.

I want what is not mine.
Because
there’s
no
chance
it’ll
ever
be
mine.

That way, I’ll never know what it feels like to have it taken away.

Again.

That way, it never leaves because it wasn’t mine to begin with.

Midas Touch- of Death

Death is an Angel

A wingless fly on my kitchen’s floor
a lifeless roach in the farthest corner,
to the right
a silent cricket under my cupboard
smashed spiders and mosquitoes on my bedroom wall
and a rotting rat in my closet.

A rhythm-less heartbeat
sugar-free happiness,
eyelids hiding dead eyes.
hands cold
breath, held.

I have the Midas touch
of death
not by might, not by sight.
everything I touch turns to dust
turns to fright
tries flight.

You’re better off out of mind,
my mind
my sight
my touch.
Death.

1.19 AM

lovesick

It’s 1.19 am and I wonder
if you ever think of me.

Not right at this moment

But do you think of me at 1.18 pm, as you rush through your lunch so you can get back to the office?
Do you think of me at 11.15 am when work is slow and there are 10 open tabs on your browser?
Is one of those tabs my Facebook profile?
Do you think of me at 6.23 am, while you’re stuck in traffic?
Do I cross your mind at 5.15 am when you rouse from your dreamless slumber?

Do you remember morning was my favorite time to love you?
Horizontally.
Diagonally.
Vertically. Any way, really.

Do you miss waking up beside me? Your feet always cold, despite my best efforts.
I wrote poems of you in my mind, never daring to commit them to paper. Haha. Commitment, that tricky character.

Do you remember me at 5.40 pm, when you should have already left the office but linger on?
Does hearing my name strum your hearts’ strings?
Does your breath catch at your throat when you get a whiff of my Japanese Cherry Blossom?
Do you miss me when you have to decide what to have for dinner? That was always a daunting task for you.

Will you remember me when you finally find the Girl of your Dreams? Will you say ‘I should have’ or ‘Finally, I have’.

I have no idea what you’re thinking.

Frankly, I don’t care. But here I am, at 1.35 am,
still thinking about you,
writing about you,
wondering.

Do you remember?

If you remember, then I can die happy.

At least then, I know I wasn’t just a girl on the commitment train waving to the gentleman at the station who didn’t want to get on. That maybe, you just had the times wrong, and will catch the next train on and find me.

And at 1.59 am, I will drift off into ignorant sleep,
dreaming of a sheep in wolf’s clothing
hulks that turn into regular people in the face of battle
batman that walks in the shadows
vampires afraid of the light
and Gargoyles that only come to life in the dark.