The rain, the brisk,
those puddles and the mist,
held her there.
she reached to you with
her thoughts, her dreams to share
her little stories to tell.
Moving a little closer,
she let you in.
So just maybe,
there must be something
more to you.
A little more than
the warmth she looked for,
in the middle of the night,
the rain, the brisk
the puddles and the mist.
Bits and pieces of puzzle lie scattered around her,
whilst she just sits there trying to make sense out of herself.
Pictures and letters of hers lie scattered around her,
whilst she just sits there trying to make sense out of her.
The Butterfly Effect by Avorra
“I’m going to get fairy floss!”, he announced, turning and walking off in search for a stall.
When he found one, he realized he didn’t actually want any fairy floss. So, he stood there and watched as the lady whipped up sticks of the sticky sweet candy with a machine and handed it out to the people waiting in line. He remembered how his mother loved it and bought it for him to which he ate and fought back the urge to spit it out. He didn’t like it but he ate it anyway because his mother did.
Fuck, he thought to himself, out of all the things, he was getting emotional over bloody fairy floss.
a must read
Hmm so January, uh, something. Mascara stains on the pillow, half had gin resting on the side table and to its right my phone was sitting silently. I saw three notifications and thought to myself, “guess today’s not that bad after all”. I mean I crossed three minds this morning or probably just one person’s three times or perhaps one mind, once and twice the other one’s, but hey, it’s something and there’s someone.
I try to unlock my phone, almost dropping it once, picked it up, drew the pattern with my finger tips over the smashed, beyond repair, sad sad phone and got it twice wrong. I somehow unlocked it and was notified that I had missed three alarms. Yep. Just that.
“Uh-huh”, I sighed while that blank, empty display just stared right back at me in silence. And I it. After scrolling for about 16 mins I tossed it to the side and turned my back towards it.
“I should probably get ready”, I slurred to absolutely no one.
Convinced myself to get out this bed, leave my white but some places grey sheets and separate them from my stiff and aching body.
Forcing myself up and out, I rest my feet on the cold wooden floor and put on my old red slippers.
The sky was darker than usual and I could almost smell the rain. The sun was hidden and everything seemed so so still. I lit up a cigarette and took a puff while wondering,
“do I really need to this? getting up, going out and all in all just moving on?”
My mind didn’t exactly know how to answer and instead it decided to carry on with the usual. Brushing my teeth, washing my face, shower, breakfast and yada yada yada.
Almost ready, I walk up towards the mirror and remind myself,
“Hey, you are happy”.
I then put on my lip balm and tried to fake a smile. The kind of forced smile that actually hurts when you do.
And then we say we are fine?
PS: are you really happy or just remind-myself-in-the-mirror happy?
Norwegian Wood by Murakami
“The wrinkles belonged where they were, as if they had been part of her face since birth. When she smiled, the wrinkles smiled with her; when she frowned, the wrinkles frowned, too. And when she was neither smiling nor frowning, the wrinkles lay scattered over her face in a strangely warm, ironic way.”
“ah, four.” I rose and stretched myself.
“and what was it like?” I was asked.
I turned and I shut my eyes,
profoundly trying to search for an answer
just a few faded memories, bits and times.
There was so much said
but a little was yet remained unsaid.
Ah, how do we explain such things,
things we ourselves are struggling to perceive.
there were many bits and times,
all of which slipped before
we could get to hold’em tight.
Times and bits like,
the getting to know you ones
a-letting you to know me, once.
The learning your stories,
and then later becoming
part of them bits.
The letting you hold me times,
a-getting to hold you bits.
And times of letting you go
and bits of letting you stay.
Maybe at the end, I still suppose,
we got used to the rushing.
And we reached a place, together still, but
we had nothing left but to leave.
And now you ask
the bits, the times?
How do I tell, now that they slowly are slipping away from me? I wonder.
“It was like..” I paused for a minute and then
I turned again to answer,
“like a wish I never wished for.”
How could she not tell?
From his eyes, his words, his smile,
didn’t they say enough?