Not the beginning, not the end

Dark nights
Bright days
Never forget
Our happy sails.
Stormy waters
Foggy mist
You are at the top
of my list.

Our hearts
were not ready
Our souls
Were starving.
Our minds
Got distracted
Our worlds
Imploded – exploded.

Too many
internal fights
Too many
Silent nights
Too many lefts
That were never right
Too much of us
And the light shone too bright.

Now that we are gone
We are existing again
Now that we are apart
We can grow again
Now that this page is written
Our story is complete
Now that our hearts beat out of tune
We need to write new songs.

Precious treasure
Buried chest
Planted seed
The beginning
And
The end.

secrets

secrets that make my skin tingle
and put a smile on my face.
secrets that make my heart race
and make my stomach churn.
secrets that no one will ever know.
secrets that no one will ever believe.
repeating the words just for my ears
repeating the promise just for your eyes.
secrets that will be our downfall
secrets that make us rise.
You made me your secret.
And secretly, I adore you for that.

 

(tbt – December 2015)

playing with fire

She is a thing of beauty. As I cradle her head in my hands, her blond hair lies in waves on the pristine white pillow that supports her. He eyes are closed and the long lashes are kissing her rosy cheeks. Her lips are parted slightly and I feel her moan against my neck rather than hearing it. Gooseflesh adorns her pale skin. Sweat leads a trail down to the center of her breasts. I kiss those fleshy orbs, tease the dark nipples, just to illicit one more of those wanton moans out of her throat. What a beauty she is. One of a kind. A real thing of beauty. I kiss her neck, bite her playfully just behind her ear and lick that same spot with my flattened tongue. Her legs sneak around my hips. I know what she wants. She is close. I can feel the pulsing of her blood. I am buried inside her heat. Oh the agonizing joy. It’s torturing to bring her so much joy. She pulls me down to her and our lips meet for a kiss. Her eyes are wide open, seemingly searching for something in mine. Is she searching for the truth? The one that I am not accepting? I can’t deal with these thoughts. Not now. Go away. I don’t want you. Not moments before I fall off the cliff. I am not sure for how long I can hold back with her. It is in her moans and in her scent. It is in the way she feels around me and the way she tastes. It is overwhelming. She is overwhelming. And I am losing control. Everything inside me is becoming tense. I should stop. I should pull out. But I can’t. I carry death inside of me. There is a real chance that I am sharing it with her if I don’t stop. “Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!” Her words are slurred. Drunk with lust. Her breathing changes. Her moans are more constant. “Let me cum inside of you,” I beg. I don’t know why I asked, but she consents. And I give in. I release myself into her quivering body. Jet after jet of my poison is now coating her insides. I marked her for life. I made her mine. I shouldn’t feel this ecstatic, but I do. “You’re mine now,” I growl. She giggles. “Forever,” I add and pull out. I feel naked without her skin covering me. “You’re mine now,” she echoes my words. I can’t help but smile. If she only knew.
*
He’s perfect for me. If he only knew that I marked him for life. His lust, my lust. I couldn’t let him stop. It has been such a long time since a man touched me the way he did. He is mine now. Maybe he will hate me once he’ll find out. Maybe he’ll love me even more. “Forever,” I add with a smile. I am going to do everything I can to keep him in my life. But, if he only knew.

Draw me

Draw me in an ocean
Draw me in the sand
Draw me in the seas
Draw me on the land.

Draw me on the clouds
And push the sky away.
Draw me under your skin
In this special magic way.

Draw me in your music
And draw me on your sheets
Draw me in your mind
Draw me when we are in heat.

Draw my silhouette
Draw my soul
Draw my flaws
And draw what makes me whole.

Draw me in my sleep
Draw me on my knees
Draw a picture of me on your heart;
For I am your most precious piece of art.

flowers

who will put flowers on my grave?
who will be there on my final days?
and when I am gone
when I sang my final song,
who will take flowers to my grave?
In the rain
waiting to be washed away,
like the fading flowers on my grave.
and there I wait
for my ultimate fate
and I see your flowers on my grave.

*inspired by the song Flowers by Antimatter*

the day the earth stood still

The earth stood still, you let go and I fell off. Broken bones and bruised skin. Dented soul. Enormous hole – inside. Rejected. Ignored. I lay in our excretions. Drowning in foul thoughts. No surprises. You pulled back and I am left in our mess. I watch you leave and stop to breathe. Prepared to be gone. To not exist. But I am not dead enough inside. I will live. I splutter and I cough, before I get up. Yes, it hurts, but I will heal. The blood and piss will wash off. But you… you are in me. Tattooed under my skin. Carved into the walls of my skull. I will never get rid of you. Stay where you are, but get out. The earth needs to spin, even when I can’t see through the fog. Even when I am caught in the shadow. The day will come when I will fly. Awake. Forever awake.

When two become one

“I had these ideas about you. None of them are true…”
“Like?”
“Well… You’re a smoker.”
“Been one for 30 years. What else?”
“You’re smaller than I expected”

*He groans, rolls his eyes and puts his cigarette out with the heel of his sneaker. She’s embarrassed and nervous, trying to find words to say that aren’t offending or insulting in this awkward situation.

“Go on…”
“You are much more handsome than on your pictures.”

*He smiles. She’s back on track.

“What else?”
“I said “no” when you asked about being intimate on our first date. I meant “yes”.”

*The admission leaves her timid and waiting for rejection. She puts a lock of hair behind her ear. It jumps right back to where it was. He stands straighter, anticipating what will be happening next.

“I can’t see how this has anything to do with the way you imagined me to be”

“I judged you. I don’t know you.”

*It’s almost an apology. Almost.

“We spoke on the phone for two years.”
“I know.”
“You know exactly who I am. Maybe not my mannerisms or my daily habits. You know the deeper me. You know me better than anyone else.”

*It’s flattering to hear these words, but she is sceptical. Does he really tell the truth or is this his way of getting what he wants? It doesn’t matter. Who cares? She gives in. No reason to fight the feelings she doesn’t want to fight.

“You had me with that smile, moments before you said hello.”
“Two years ago I told you that I would never fall in love with you and that I only want sex from you. I lied.”

*She blushes and smiles at his feet. She still doesn’t know what he sees in her; she is short and overweight; and he could have every girl he wants.

“Come here… We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s make the best of it.”

*She nods. Their eyes are locked and their breaths mingle, moments before their lips touch. Her heart races and her knees feel weak. Electricity. He tastes of cold smoke and she can feel his smile on her lips. His hands find an immediate way under her shirt. The heat of his skin on her back leaves imprints on her soul that she can never wash off. She needs more of him. All of him. As much as he is willing to give. If he lets her in, she will submit to him, surrender to his needs. She will become his everything. With an urgency, they find the bed behind them. Clothes are quickly disposed of. There is no time to waste. Not even to appreciate the nakedness of the other. He used to ask her to tell him that she loves him. For the first time, these words leave her lips without being a lie, just as he enters her and fills her in a way she hasn’t felt in years. Completion. This encounter is more than she ever expected it to be. It is less too. Two lonely humans giving in to their primal urges after building up to this moment for more than two years. Everything they ever said, everything they ever wrote; every picture they ever shared – everything led to this moment. The moment when two become one. And although everything that is happening right there is ordinary, nothing about it is, in fact, ordinary. Moans, sweat, the scent of sex, the creaking of the bed. Two people who stopped thinking. Only existing. Become one.

I’m only human

If you look at me, please see me. If you see me for the person that I am, please love me.
If you listen to me, please hear me. If you hear my words, please understand them.
If you want me, don’t hold back. If you don’t hold back, I will be all yours.

***

This is actually no fiction. This is all me in my most vulnerable state. I am afraid to be invisible, invaluable, used…

This is for you to know

Sing a song for me. Write a song about me. Remember what we had and preserve it for eternity.
Hidden in your mind, I’ll stay. For no one to see. For no one to know.
Feel me in your soul. I’ll stay there. A memory. For no one to see. For us to know.
I wander through the night. Awake while the world is asleep. For no one to see. For you to know.
It’s all in the way you made me feel.

But…

Damaged

But not broken

Bruised

But not bleeding

Happy

But not smiling

Sad

But not crying

Thinking

But not speaking

Scared

But not hiding

Love

But not them

Here

But not there

Silent

But not inside

Empty

But filled with emotions

Dreaming

But not sleeping

Apathetic

But full of passion

Lost

But not when you are there.

Perfect girl

He lay on his back and stared at the sky. A glittering veil was covering the black. The moon was shining brightly; not whole yet. He felt the same, not whole. He had met his twin flame. He had loved her; made love to her. And then, then he had pushed her away. Dealing with those emotions was too complicated. And he was not a complicated man. He just knew that being with her felt like destroying himself. Being without her felt like missing a part of his soul. Her presence scared him. Almost as much as the knowledge that the sky is infinite and time is finite. He couldn’t admit that he was running away from her. It was easier to manipulate her into thinking that she was pushing him away. The truth was, he was missing her. He was missing the way she made his soul lighter and his thoughts less heavy. He missed how she inspired his work, and the sex. Yes, he missed how it felt to fill her out. He had had many girls and women in his life. They had never felt like her on his skin. Her kisses were like magic, her orgasms were bliss, his own release couldn’t be compared to anything he had ever experienced in bed. An intimacy that spread onto many levels connected them. From the moment they had first spoken, something had clicked. Profoundly. And now he was running away. He had an ugly soul, an empty heart, heavy thoughts. Others had described him that way. And he couldn’t deny it. But she didn’t care. She seemed to like all the facets of him. The good and the bad. And he was not prepared for that. He was not prepared to open himself to her, to let her see who he was. Who he is. Bare. Nowhere to hide his imperfections. He had always wanted to be seen, and to be able to be himself without getting strange looks. Now that he had met someone comfortable and sure enough of themselves to accept him for who he was, and he couldn’t handle it.

He slapped the grass next to him in frustration. Since when was he such a coward? Since when was he lamenting to have no one to love him, knowing full well that she was there. Was he so used to being hurt and rejected that being wanted and accepted scared him? That woman. She was addictive. Always on his mind. There was that fear of going back to her and letting her see his vulnerable side. There was that irrational panic that she could use it against him.

Until now, she never had. She had proven that she was trustworthy. He hated how much she completed him. He loved it too.

A raindrop landed on his forehead breaking his thoughts. From the porch his wife called him to get out of the rain, and go inside. He grunted a response and got off the lawn just in time, before the light dribble became a rainstorm. Minutes ago he had stared at the clear night sky. He had been sunken so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the clouds hiding the stars. Standing on the porch, he kept looking into the dark. She was his dark. Behind him, his wife was standing with a dishtowel. She was beautiful. He loved her. But she didn’t understand. She was not the one to fill that empty space in his heart. She was not the one who knew every secret, nothing withheld. But she was enough. She had to be. He took a quick look at his phone. He had no messages but he liked to see and know that she was online. Her profile picture was beautiful. For the moment, it was all he got from her. It was all he deserved. But he wanted more. He wanted all of her. Even if it meant leaving the safety of his family. After all, She was the one. His twin flame.

About writing… In the farthest sense.

I write a lot. It’s not always poetry or novels or flash fiction, but I write down thoughts, little notes or words. And I write daily. I use fountain pens and journals. My handwriting is horrible. I really need to focus to write nicely. It’s a challenge in my job too, lol. Yes, I have been told to try and clean my handwriting. I try, but honestly (and this sounds not nice at all) I can’t be bothered. And I don’t have the time either.

Once in a while I share a pic of an entry in my journal. I like doing that. It gives the entries something real, something deep. I have been told so, many times.

I go through many journals and wrote the last page in one just yesterday. I started that one in February. This morning I bought a new one. It is a weird feeling to write a last page in a journal, and it is a weird feeling to write the first page in a new journal. In my mind, I don’t want to soil the blank pages with nonsense. Usually, my notebooks are blunt and no-descript. Black. I like them to be closable too, preferably with an elastic band. Today, I found another one that reminded me of my youth and is over all quite me. It has James Dean on the cover. I like James Dean a lot. I read a couple of his biographies, saw all his movies, and we share a birthday. And it was not too expensive either. It is thin though… I am sure I need to get another one by Christmas.

People laugh (or smirk) when I unpack my journal and my fountain pens. I own many fountain pens in different styles and colours. I like how they all write differently and I like how the ink flows on to the paper. Writing is fun. Or so I think.

Old and new journal.

So yes… If you are looking for a gift for me… Fountain pens and journals are a good idea.

Do you write by hand? What do you use? Are your posts written down first in a journal? Mine are not, sometimes I write a spontaneous poem here (or on Wattpad) and copy it later into my journal 🙂

Another drunk letter to a stranger

Dear Stranger,

Another six week until we meet again. Am I allowed to admit that I am scared shitless? What if you don’t like me anymore? And what if we will not meet in the end? Gosh… We haven’t spoken in weeks. How are we supposed to be able to see each other face to face. With our past standing between us? I am not the woman you think I am. I need your encouragement to see this through. You’ll be 45 in two weeks. You are a man who saw the world and lived two lives. Me, I am 24 and inexperienced in most parts of life. I don’t want to blame my past, but if you grow up the way I did… Ha… Who cares? Not you. Yeah… Those words hurt. You should care. You really should. It’s me we’re talking about. The one you’ll let slip through your fingers. And you will regret it for the rest of your life. I don’t want your love. I just want you to see me, the way I see you. I see through your bullshit although I am not visible at the moment for you. It’s my own choice. Fear and hope. Please forget me. Please don’t ever forget me. Six weeks. I want to put my nose against your neck and feel your breath against my skin. Your eyes on me. Your words, just for me. We are cowards. We will stand in the same room, wondering if the other is there or if the other is thinking about us, but we will not get in touch. We will lose the opportunity. Maybe the only one we’ve got. One chance. And the way I know us, we will blow it. Or maybe that’s just me, yeah, maybe that’s just me.

Where are you now? I haven’t seen nor heard anything from you in such a long time. Please be okay. Please don’t disappear on me. Please don’t forget me.

As long as there is cum in my balls and a mind in my brain, I will never forget you.

Still the most romantic thing I was ever told. I wish it was true.

Dear stranger, six more weeks. Do something. Court me. I will be yours, there’s no doubt about it. You just have to want me again. Please want me.

Gosh… I am pathetic, pleading and begging…

I will never send this letter your way. Doesn’t mean that I am not thinking these things.

Oh and in case you were wondering. I am well. Thank you for asking.

Lots of love,

C

Fear

Fear. I don’t know fear. I never have. I am not able to feel fear. Well, maybe I am, but I am not allowed to. Fear lets one make mistakes and mistakes are deadly. Fear. I am afraid to feel it. To be paralyzed by it. To let it rule me. But here I am and I feel it creeping up my spine and spreading on my neck. Sweat is forming on my forehead, my view becomes blurry. I cannot afford to lose my senses, but here I am; blind, deaf, mute. I cannot see because sweat is constantly running in my eyes and I can’t wipe it away or make it stop. I cannot hear because the pounding of my own pulse is the only noise in my head. My blood and my thoughts. The rest of the world is silent. I am silent too. I am silent. Deaf. Mute. Nobody knows that I am alive. Nobody knows that I ever existed. Fear. I was never able to feel fear. Now I do. I made mistakes. They paralyzed me. Fear. I don’t know fear. I am fear. I am ruled by it. Fuck fear. Fuck anxiety. I just want to hear, to breathe, to speak. I want to be me. Fuck fear…

colours

Inside this grey and black vessel is a lot of colour

I tend to forget it’s there, but it is bursting out the cracks

I am a rainbow hidden in a cloud

Let me rain

Let me shine

Let me show you who I really am.

I cover your black with my colour

And paint your night away

Until I used it all and I am back to my usual grey.

Share your colour with me

Make it rain

Make me shine

And show them who I really am.

We will paint the grey away;

Coloured rain

Colours reign.