I feel like you’re casting me away,
And so I feel like leaving you be.
But I really don’t want to,
So give me a reason not to.
Where do I begin?
Shall I start out soft and slow?
Ease my way until you’re comfortable,
And then start from there?
Or shall I catapult my way into your life?
Forcing myself upon you until you notice;
Until you know me;
Until you care.
Little captured bird
Waiting for the day
A boy comes along,
And opens her cage,
And lets her fly away.
I think I like the thought of you,
Or who we could be together.
Of course, I’m just guessing
Because I don’t really know you –
But I’d like to,
I just don’t know how to begin.
And that’s what bothers me the most.
You are so mysterious,
But I wish I could read you like a book.
Trust me –
I quite enjoy mystery novels.
You are quiet,
But I wouldn’t go as far as to call you shy.
On the contrary, you seem to hold back your thoughts
And you seem to savour the words
When you speak.
I am waiting for the day when they tell me I’m crazy.
“Unbalanced,” they might say, or “Unsound.”
Wouldn’t that just be lovely? Just think – to live in blissful ignorance, free from troubles and calamities, appointments and schedules, relationships and company, government and politics, finance and economics, and basically all the other bothersome things of this world.
And when the day comes and I am informed – and I assure you, it will – I will smile, and graciously thank them, and say, “I knew it all along.”
The door opened in a flourish, and you stepped inside, bringing all of winter in with you. There was a light scent about you; you smelled of bitter winds, and boughs laden with snow, and frost on a windowpane. Your cheeks were rosy from the chill, your eyes alight and dancing.
How I wished it were not the cold that kindled the fire behind your eyes, or made your face flush scarlet.
She woke with a start. His hands stroked her forehead, gently brushing the strands of hair away from her face.
“Another nightmare?” he whispered.
She did not answer his question, merely looked him in the eye and said, “Tell me a story – one that will make me forget.”
And so he did. Slowly, at first, painting a place with his lips, then quicker as the world grew. With wise and weathered words, he chased away the shadows and vanquished the demons.
I dreamt of you last night,
But perhaps not in the way you are thinking
Or in a way that I would have liked.
I dreamed that we were talking
And the entire time, I felt wholly
And utterly foolish.
And let me tell you,
Never in my life have I doubted my intelligence.
But lately, around you, I do.
Words fail me – I’m tongue-tied,
While you seem to speak so freely.
I woke up this morning feeling even more fatigued
Then I had the night before.
The silence is overbearing, but we speak above it and try to hide it.
We press it back with our idle chat, but we both know it’s useless.
The silence rings in our ears, even as words fill our mouths.
We both don’t want to admit how bad it’s gotten lately,
So we push it away, and cover it with smiles.
Saint, Saint, Saint.
It is meant as praise,
But all I hear is mockery.
There is nothing good within me –
Nothing heavenly in my system.
I am condemned.
My soul is bruised by Hell.
I’ve never studied your features this close before,
But I think I have you memorized.
I close my eyes, but I can see –
The pale scar running down from your brow bone to your left eyelid;
The star chart of freckles scattered across your cheeks;
The colour of your eyes when you try not to cry.
You and me –
We’re two birds of a feather.
We were born to fly.
I want you to know
That I don’t wait for hot drinks to cool.
I’d rather sip it scalding,
Then drink it lukewarm.
And I want you to realize
That I don’t drink the dregs
Of my coffee or my tea
Because it’s either too sweet
Or too bitter –
And I don’t like a lot of either.
And I wouldn’t mind it
If you weren’t musical.
As long as you weren’t too ashamed
Or embarrassed of your voice
To sing or hum softly
As we dance sometimes.
English exams scare me.
They are too sweet and too innocent,
Pretending to be open-armed and open-minded.
But English exams are not like Math exams.
There isn’t an equation or a simple answer.
You can write your real and honest opinion.
But if your real and honest opinion is wrong,
Then you fail.
I am afraid to fail.
The seasons have changed –
Twice, in fact,
Since you’ve been gone.
Winter faded into spring,
Which gave way to summer,
Replaced by fall –
And repeated again.
It’s been two years.
And I can still picture your smile.
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