Control

Sometimes I run out; out of words, situations and my mind. It creeps you know? This hunger. You could be talking and suddenly like a bullet shot, I don’t see or hear the words any more, I’m numbed. I watch your lips and how they curve into the letter shapes and how the fluidly they move – up and down then around. Then I watch your tongue, see how it swirls around, looking for something. Then the hunger – desire – whatever name this beast likes to be called, has me wanting to divulge in your existence. Like my hands lifting mid-air, mid conversation and you wonder why and I’m dying inside hoping you can see it in my eyes. I want you and I can’t control how I feel and what I want. Then my mind runs out and I am stuck on auto pilot, replaying your moving lips – torturing myself. Hands in the air, reaching out for you.

– K

Thievery

My mind ran through the backdoor of my childhood home and it knocked over the jar that my mother loved yet she paid no thoughts to it. She had busied herself in the kitchen trying to cover the stench of the man who had visited during naptime. She painted the house with the aromatic smells of the dinner that my father would burst through the door and expect after his flight home. My mind retreats into the corner as he combusts while he finds the remnants of the intruder in the bed he laid. It numbs as he bubbles over in tears and shakes with violent twists, declaring thievery.

– K

Calls

3 am you called me from your hotel room in China,  telling me how much you miss me, miss us. That the scorched bridges that we left behind have come back to haunt you. I can hear the city in background and I focus on that, scared that if I focus in on you and your voice I might find myself wanting you again. I’ve worked too hard for that. You’re good and I am too but together we’re toxic and lord knows how long it took for me to comprehend that . God it’s terrible because I can feel you clutching on that phone and the bill running in the same way my sanity is slipping from me. In some crazy way I’m hoping that it’s an illusion, a moment of weakness, a dream of some sort because you’ll always win even if I don’t want you to.

– K

Green Eyed Monster

That night we met, I guess the energy was percolating because I’ve never pulled over on the road, let alone at night. I don’t know what it was, your vintage car or your eyes that had me stepping out my car. You looked at me like some creature that you had never seen before and I was glad it was dark enough to cover my facial expressions.  You had stark green eyes and a smile that sent me to my demise. Stranger in the night, I still think about you even a year later, I’ve been searching for you on the roads – sometimes I see a mirage of you – but I can’t seem to catch it.

I miss you, wherever you are.
Stranger in the night.

– K

Dreams

Dreams

You told me I could follow my dreams and become whatever I deemed to be my own and true to my being, yet here I am crying as I type this in the bathroom. I’m mourning my dead dreams and struggling to catch my breath, hoping the lady in the next cubicle won’t hear me. She sits across me in the office and I fucking hate everyday of it. I hate the numbers and the rat race, chasing whatever it is we are all looking for…wealth, success, whatever nonsense it is. Last night I tried to tell you how I felt and you could sense it coming so you covered my pleas with your obnoxiously loud laugh that taunts me in my darkest moments. 

You told me I could be anything I wanted to be but how could I?

How could I follow my ‘filthy‘ dreams?

– K

Complexity

Complexity

I hate that superior complex that you have. Those moments that you seem to try and dominate every aspect of my life. I hate that you don’t want to acknowledge my presence and worth when I need you to. Like I’m some object for your pleasing. You like it when I doll myself up and sit next to you while you talk your business friends, sometimes – most of the time – you parade me around in front of them like an object they can’t obtain.  While I’m not an object,  objects don’t have feelings and well mine are hurt.

K

Starry Night

Once upon a time I was kid, shocker I know. I had to take a flight by myself.

I’ll have you know that since birth I’ve always been an over-thinker so the prospects of flying were not as exciting as they should be.

I did however manage to get onto the flight and locate my row without much struggle.

My heart sank. There sat man in the seat that I had so wished to have, the window seat, and I was doomed to the aisle seat of death ( I very much detest it).

To my surprise the man, whose name eludes me now, offered up his seat.

His act of kindness did not stop there.

He asked for blanket to be provided to me ( it was a night flight), offered to buy hot chocolate and ensured my over-thinking tendencies did not worry me too much.

I remember him so vividly for the conversation he gifted me.

Mid-flight when turbulence hit, this is how the conversation ran:

“What are stars K?”

“Little lights?”

He proceeded to tell me how the stars, my ‘lights’, were in essence like guardians for each person in the world. That each star belongs to someone and that the stars which shone dimmer were people in need. That I should always remember that we could always meet a dim star’s person, so act with kindness and love. More importantly, we all stars regardless of which shape, make, colour and even brightness we possess.

I’ve always regarded him as a star that fell into the plane for me that night. Wherever you are red-headed star with those eyes that seemed to hold the world, thank you.

Your small acts of kindness have been giant to me.

K