Monday, 31 August 2015

Dragon

“My emotional life: dialectic between craving for privacy and need to submerge myself in a passionate relationship to another.” - Susan Sontag

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I always thought that becoming self sufficient was the greatest feat, the highest climb a person could make. What could be more challenging than building a life for yourself that excludes the validation of others? That extinguishes the cravings of having someone truly see you, understand you, and love you? I've grown content in joy and the daily humming of life, no other person to upset my balance, no other heart to nurture but my own. "I could do this for the rest of my life" I've thought, "I'm finally happy."

But as the days slip by and people drift in and out of the river that is You, I began to realize that maybe the greatest feat isn't being self sufficient at all, maybe the hardest thing to learn to do is to love someone else.

There are days and weeks when this is easy, when falling in love with a sparkling mind and strong hands feels like second nature, as though him and I were always just two branches growing from the same tree. I am happy - content to be parallel lines with him, as our eyes meet and blush on the opposite sides of the car.

Then there are the dangerous days, the days when I want myself.

I barricade the door, no reason or argument preludes this. I lock myself up and shut it all out. Like a switch, all that love just flips from "on" to "off". It thunders through my arteries and into my lungs, and I exhale every little bit of it out into the air - what took months to nurture and grow vanishes in seconds.  I hold myself, my life, my Kingdom tight to my chest like an upset child clings on to a blanket, fingers gripped so fiercely I could be set alight and not flinch. Like a dragon guarding her cave, glowing cinders spit from my mouth as I roar in anguish. Who DARES trespass inside ME?!

Of course, you will not see this. On these days, you might notice me go a little quiet. I might disappear for a walk, play different music. I take care of myself, and will return when I am better.

And so I sit here with stones in my chest and my head heavy in my hands. How are you supposed to love? Do I accept and embrace and forgive and treat this person like I treat all the empty others - those who I don't require their affection or validation? Or do I submerge myself so deeply in them that I lose all of my control, that they become as much a part of my being as my very own soul, that the thought of them leaving leaves me paralysed, holding on to a drowning man - installing my very own Self Destruct button straight into their hands? Neither feel right.

Learning how to love is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. 
I have no idea how to do this.

Friday, 28 August 2015

August

As summer collapsed into autumn
I was reminded
That there is no life without death
No light without darkness there first, silently
waiting
tapping his long fingers
No love without loneliness
And the distinct and
sudden realisation
that absolutely nothing is mine
to keep

Wednesday, 26 August 2015

The Architect (Part 1)

Between us was a faint glass. I watched him coyly over the coming months; noticing his hands, and the way they twitched. They were strong looking hands, but they were clean - I sometimes wondered if he ached for the pencil residue on his skin the same way I ached for his hands on mine.
The way he spoke to me, words softly planted in my ears, Sweetheart. I knew he was an artist from the way he spoke. Each day he coloured me blue with those words, in that voice, Little One. My chaotic mind began to unfold. He lay it down with those clean hands of his, looked at me with excited eyes, like I was undiscovered blueprints begging to be made sense of. He lay me down so gently and so surely, not quest nor challenge, just his favourite pastime.
And he began to draw.
Once a day, sometimes twice, he sketched the foundations of us. First began the digging; rooting up the soil of my past, and his, getting deep into my core, into my thoughts. I didn't like this. Dirty hands in my dirty soul, in corners that hadn't been touched before. What if my soil wasn't good enough quality for the fine house he could build? What if my ground wasn't stable? I'm the first to admit I have stones and boulders deep down there, at times I've felt the pain gush through my veins so heavy that I could give way any minute. And still I let those hands inside me, flinching as I felt them brush past my insecurities.
He was always gentle when he explored me, into the ruins of past houses I'd tried to build alone. I watched him with intrigue, as he opened up each crevice and laid down the new foundations, as though he'd been inside me a thousand times before. With each conversation we grew closer and stronger, the glass between us became fainter, it was clear he was no longer a visitor here.

Sunday, 23 August 2015

Something New

After living one too many days of routine, I start to feel like I've been underwater for too long; lungs steadily filling with water. The restlessness. My feet start to kick, craving whatever is above the surface. Spend too long in the deep dark, and your soul starts to dim alongside it.

There are certain remedies for a dimming soul, and I truly believe the first to be Newness.

Get up at a different time. Wake up at 4.30am, when it feels as though the world is still rocking in a deep slumber, and it's just you and the universe. Walk out of your doorway, leave your orange-glow porch for the burnt amber streets. Your mind hasn't mapped this place before, even though you've stood here a thousand times. And when you breathe, really breathe. It smells like a foreign but familiar place, in a foreign yet familiar time - maybe somewhere in your muddled childhood. You inhale with a shade so deep, you almost believe that if it travels far enough inside you, it might just transport you right back to that moment you'd misplaced. And instead, a new moment forms.
Go walk through a ghost town, race the sun to explore the corners first. Facing the dark side of the solar system has always been romantic for me, everything is painted in human nature, human convenience. A canvas you can walk inside, unintentional art. Standing quietly everyday, unacknowledged. Just how it likes to be.

When my soul begins to dim, I go somewhere new. It dusts the cobwebs from my eyes, washes the mould from my rotting mind. Newness is an antibiotic you can't develop resistance to, fresh eyes clean from the washing basket in your mother's bedroom. I built my memories on the foundations of the chords from the songs I'd never heard before, there's a reason you cry when it plays so many years later. There's a reason why that perfume makes you think of him, there's a reason why life once felt so big - once upon a time. When it was all so New.




Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Cobwebs

You kissed me and filled my mouth full of spiders. And every time I thought of you, they effortlessly spun poetry from my tongue..

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Wild Girl

Wild Girl
You stand small in the wind
Eyes like whirlpools
Hair unpinned

Wild Girl
What is it
that makes you run?
I know your shoes can't hold your feet any longer
They're raw at the sole

Wild Girl
I didn't catch your name
Your shadow didn't hang around
But your reflection lingered in my mind

Wild Girl
I've longed for you for years
Kept you in my small cramped dark
Paying for my fears

Wild Girl
You move like a river
Dirty feet, grass stained clothes
Freckles of chaotic constellations

I turn around in my doorway
And look back at myself
I always knew who I was
Who I was born to be

Wild Girl

Thursday, 13 August 2015

Naked

Undressing for men
I didn't love
Was easy, fast and grey
But with him
I must undress my terrified soul
Let him gently pull the loose threads
Dangling at my waist
Knowing I could unravel in an instant
back into the chaos I once was
Let him ease the zipper
and glimpse the scars
of past mistakes, those defining moments
It's hard not to have regrets
When so much hurt caused so much growth
When strong hands held me
And squeezed the life right out of me
The dried blood under his fingernails
that once pumped through me
that rushed to my heart
made my knees weak
and my soul collapse
I undressed for him, once, too.