A New Beginning

You made me happy for a while although you were never really mine
but the dream of us kept me alive in a phase of turmoil and transition
and now my memory of you’s not tainted anymore
my heart a little stronger because I fell for you and so much more
that spark once felt my life has changed in so many unexpected ways
and I am grateful for that gift of knowing what it means to fully wish
to love and feel it run so deep it swept me truly off my feet
and catapulted me onto ass until I learned to walk again with newfound sass
willing to embrace my life and take a chance to love myself now for a change

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At the Risk of Being Me

On my lowest of days when darkness surrounds my heart and fills it with rage I wonder what I ever saw in you. When my anger results in tears, my frustration born out of arrogance and pride, I also realize how much I owe you though – a new beginning, a lesson, a spark coz for the first time in my life I truly fell in love. And that’s the gift I’ll always remember you for, although I really need to let you go and outgrow those feelings that once made me whole. You don’t want them, that is more than clear, so I have to be strong and let go of my fear of being unlovable, prickly or wrong. Bottom line: I need to move on.

Missing Pieces

And just as I understood that I have never known who you really are
that loving you has made no sense
that I fell for an image of who I wanted you to be
an idea rather than a person
a simple sentence made me crumble
reminding me that my heart has had its say in this and not my mind
and that it misses you

A Letter to My Future Daughter

Don’t hide behind a hashtag. Be the change you want to see. Support your fellow women. Believe them when they tell you a man you know has molested them. Don’t belittle them in response. Don’t tell them that’s just how it is. Don’t be a silent victim, speak up if you have been harassed. Teach your children to have self-respect and voices of their own. Raise your sons to be feminists and your daughters to be respectful to them in return. Don’t expect women to be better than men. We are not. We are just as flawed. Don’t call yourself goddess or a queen. We are all humans. Just imagine if men called themselves gods and kings. Don’t call other women bitches just because they disagree with you. Don’t sell yourself short for a relationship. Don’t objectify other women or reduce them to their looks. As an artist, create the content that you miss. Write female leads without abuse. Don’t tell their stories in relation to a man but let them be strong for themselves. Don’t support violence. Don’t promote, condone or further it on stage or screen. Don’t be a part of what in real life you oppose. Take responsibility for your actions. Simply practice what you preach.

Sunday Stroll

20°, the sun unusually strong for a day in mid October. A woman leans against a tree, her feet bare on the grass still luscious green. Her bike right next to her, her head buried in a book – she makes me pause. A group of seniors playing cards on a stump. Fallen trees all around them like wooden corpses as the last remnants of a storm so heavy it knocked out an entire city for a day. Unusual for us. I look at them, the splinters, bark and branches. They make me sad. All those golden crowns depleted on the ground, the random specks of red like drops of blood. My park was wounded badly, I can see that now. And every tree that lost its grip with roots too weak to withstand a tempest on muddy ground slows my steps and makes my heart cry out. How vile that force of nature, a tantrum really, sudden, crass. Such a reflection of my year or less self-centered: the world at large. That’s why the woman sitting by the tree caught my attention. Engulfed still by her story, she oozes calm.

French Vanilla

Your kiss tasted like waffles in my dreams today
Sugar-laced
Macchiato foam still on your lips
A touch of cinnamon caught in those grooves
carved in by laughter, mischief and sensation
your mouth adorned
your tongue French touched
inviting me to savour you
and sate my hunger
for your love

Monday

Missing you has lifted my spirits in a strange way today. I don’t know how, nor why but feeling my gut knotting up over longing for your voice, the sight of you, your touch, has helped me breathe through turmoil and frustration. My aching heart too preoccupied to care about things that do not matter, about developments that normally would blow my mind. But you keep me calm, my love, in the eye of any storm. Not having you a whirlwind of emotions that outdoes any other I have faced before. No pain left, just sweetened sorrow and the gratitude for knowing love, not just desire. Love, not plain but simple. Each thought of you a happy one, putting the puzzle of my self together, improving me. No fear left, no doubts there, none.

Phansanity

and there it is again, that craving
for a stage, a mask, a line
after all those years not fading
just numbed perhaps for a little while
when the dreamer’s lost her courage
her heart broken one too many times
and the beast of sanity felt nourished
by faking hunger for a normal life

Night Fall

I have weird dreams these days
dark sometimes, unsettling
but you are always there to soothe
not that I’d often see your face
it is your presence that I sense
until I put you in my sheets
my mind done playing tricks
telling me exactly what I crave
your skin on mine, your mouth
then your embrace
lips spoiling you
your neck, your curves
my favorite treat
no payback needed
desired, yes
your bliss priority, however
your smile, a kiss
so deep it tingles in my gut
and leaves me panting
from wanting you so much