The beautiful things.

I stand at the door with my hand on the cold knob and close my eyes before giving in to that slight turn. The floor beneath my feet is cloaked in invisibility, all I see is a table with two chairs facing each other set alongside an open window. The afternoon comes pouring in and drenches the table with light.

I walk the paces and look outside sitting on the chair. There’s a huge tree not too far away and a few blue flowers shine intermittently from between the leafy branches. Those flowers hold every particle of my being and if it were not for that scent I could recognize in a room full of fragrances I never would have realized when she came and took her place across me. Something stops me from looking at her right away. My eyes linger over the sunlight, the windowsill and then I look at her. My chest has been hollow for long, so long that I can’t recognize the feeling of my heart thumping mightily at the sight of her hair cascading down the sides of her face and I feel the texture on my fingertips when she tucks a vagabond strand behind her right ear. The tiny earring glints and her eyes reflect a longing I never knew existed when she looks at me.

“How long has it been?”, she asks.

“A lifetime”, I answer.

She blinks with a smile on her lips and then places her hands on the table. She looks at the light flowing over her fingers and something warm conceives in my heart.

” Would you believe it if I told you that I have missed you? “, she says looking back at me.

“No”, I say.

She tilts her head back a little and moves her hair over on her right shoulder, leaving her neck bare as a starless sky and all my forgotten desires drip down that path of skin into the furrow of her collarbone.

” What are you thinking?”

“You can’t imagine”, I say without realizing.

She stretches her hand and places it over mine. I clasp it and wonder just how much a heart can break. Somewhere far away, it must be raining.

” Did you ever regret it? Falling in love? “

” No”, I mumble, “Did you?”

“We wouldn’t be here if I did”, she sighs.

I look to my right and see nothing, I look to my left and see the blue flowers hiding behind leaves, I look at her and realize she’s a thousand miles away.

” Is this even real?”, I wonder.

She stays silent for a while and I crave for that empty space between her slightly parted lips.

“All that matters is that we’re here, in this transitory place that changes shapes with the whims of my heart. This is the only place left where I can come to remember”, she finally answers.

She stands and walks up to me, I turn my chair to face her. She clasps the edges of her dress with two fingers and the hem lifts a few inches. The ragged beating of my heart drops a few flowers on the ground and her breath on my face ignites the debris of love as she places herself on my lap and I feel her thighs pressing against mine.

” Did you miss me?”, she breaths on my lips.

Time stops hovering around us and moments freeze in the air. There’s no clock that exists and all the waters of all the oceans are forever bathing in moonlight. She takes my hand and places it between her breasts. Her lips twitch and a pain of years ago escapes from the corners of her eyes.

“Why is my heart beating so fast?”, she asks in a broken voice and the sound hits me after a slight lapse, like in a conversion over a satellite phone.

“How could I ever forget you?”, I whisper and find the taste of her mouth stained with the traces of love.

” Then don’t “, she says. “Always remember. Remember that we loved once, no matter how we ended, love didn’t. Love never does, memories never do, yearnings never will.”

She stands and looks outside the window. Perhaps the light outside has gone awry but her body appears blurry on the edges. It reminds me of gazing at the night sky with eyes full of tears.

“Never forget the beautiful things”, she says and fades away into nothingness, leaving behind a damp warmth in my chest and an exploding supernova in my veins.

Two broken wings

On a night when the moon hung low in the sky covering the earth beneath in that wonderful glow that poets would have wrote songs about, Calvin and Mira stood with the dampness of the night filling their nostrils and if it was not for the sudden face of reality conjuring up in front of their eyes, only fate knew how long would they have held each other’s hands. The speaker sitting on the abandoned table emitted the melancholy screech of the Scorpions and as she took a puff of the joint and exhaled it over his lips, Calvin shut his eyes lest the fragile reality of the moment tarnish the feats of imagination he had achieved in his loneliest hours.

“It’s too damn hard”, he murmured when he could still smell the stale scent of marijuana in her breath.

“What is?” asked Mira while she clutched on his arms and drew her lips close to his, torn between the desire to abandon herself or regain herself.

With the fumes of desire filling up his lungs as he took the joint from her hand and took a long drag, he could not help but caress his lips on hers and forget about the stars shining in the desolate sky above and as he tasted in his mouth the taste of her tongue, he knew in that moment that months after he would wish to have had the strength to forget about the kiss with a simple act of will. But as his unwitting heart would have it, he kissed her with all the madness built up inside him and Mira could only do so much to submit her body to the caresses from her waist upwards until it didn’t matter if above them was the naked sky or a concrete roof and she felt the sullen cold wind brush against her skin as her dress slipped down her shoulders. “To not want you”, Calvin answered her question.

Lost in the wet kisses down her neck she exhaled more of the warmth generating inside her body than she could inhale of the chill of the air from the sky, of which Calvin became oblivious as in his palms he could feel the softness of her body and as his lips drew closer to her heart she shuddered anguished between the decision to tear herself away or to push his face right over the spot from where all her desires surfaced.  And she made Calvin gasp as she undid the belt of his trousers and after some fumbling surrounded his girth with her hand. They breathed inside each other’s mouth and giving herself up to the heart breaking inside her chest and after biting her lips so her wounded heart would not come bleeding out of her mouth she bit his ears and murmured: “Fuck me, Cal.”

 

And it is this memory that the boy named Crow tries to extract from my palpitating heart until I plead with him: “Not this, don’t take this away from me”. The boy named Crow laughs inside my head and as I hear the universe break asunder he says: “Do you hear that? It’s the sound of two broken wings.”

 

Roads of reminiscence.

Today when I lost myself again, I took out the letters from yester years

With a wry smile I sniffed them and once again fought with the tears

With a match in my hand, burnt them for only that made any sense

And with the fumes of love, walked alone on the roads of reminiscence.

 

Came across us and laughter roared in the sky

Took a while to accept it was really you and I.

Walked a few paces further and found myself undressing you

Had to look away for it made me wonder if you think of it too.

But the sighs made me look back again

Till the view faded and climbed a different terrain:

One where we still held hands and watched the moon,

But the parting ways, did we not both rue?

The trembling eyelids and tremulous lips

The scent of your hair and the incomplete kiss

Come in my way as insane semblance,

From the roads of reminiscence.

 

Lonesome days and nights falling across as shadows

A lot of love left, through my veins in agony coursed.

All the sense of longing from the asphalt arose

Till I learnt to weep in poetry and prose.

 

 

Skirts of heaven

The words we didn’t say

Oh they do come my way

All that’s in my heart

Should I tell you today?

 

And think of me,

Maybe

In the night at half past eleven,

When you watch the moon clinging on the

Skirts of heaven.

 

When the air was wet

Often we met.

Now I sit in the same bar

but the drink is different.

 

And think of me,

Maybe

In the night at half past eleven,

When you watch the moon clinging on the

Skirts of heaven.

 

The years pass by and the memory fades

Won’t you someday recall all the love that was made?

And think of me as the unforgiven

When you watch the moon clinging on the

Skirts of heaven.