Thursday, May 16, 2013

Open Flower

Lying on the cold floor, with my cheek pressed against the floor, and drowning in the emptiness of my soul, i decided two things could happen. It could end in a love story or it could end in tragedy. Its either he loves me, or he doesn't but not knowing is what got me on the floor in the first place. If he loves me, roses and butterflies and if he doesn't, well, i am already broken, into a million little pieces, falling into an abyss of emptiness, how much worse could it get.
I had it all planned in my hollow skull, i woud sit with him, look into his eyes, this time i would be strong, i wouldn't break down and cry like a child who lost a toy. This time, i would be an adult about it. I would tell him how i feel, and ask him how it all went wrong. I would tell him how much i miss his hands in mine, the sound of his heart beat, when my head is pressed against his chest, his little body spasms when he sleeps, the comfortable silence we often share and his deep brown eyes. It would be like opening a flower,a Queen of the Night, it's a lovely flower, it waits till night fall and it opens up, filling the atmosphere with its lovely scent. I would pour my heart out to him. I would tell him how he is the last thing on my mind before i fall asleep and the first thing on my mind when i wake up. I know it is love because the thought of him upset makes me cry and his happiness is my happiness.
But there are days when i want him to fall down the stairs and hurt himself real bad, maybe, just maybe he would have a glimpse of how much pain is in my heart, soul and body. I would tell him how much i hate him some days and how much i love him other days. How it tears me apart, limb by limb to watch him with other girls. It's like being placed in a box, without a lid or lock, there is only a little hole, the only way out and you could only get out if you could find the hole. I would tell him how some days i want to hurt myself for the physical pain is much more bearable than the one in my chest.
Two things could happen, he could either think i am totally insane, like out of my mind in sane and needy and clingy OR he could hold my hands, look deep into my eyes as if he would see my soul and tell me how much he loves me too, not likely, i thought, but even just the possibility lightens my heart.
All planned out. Tomorrow i would walk up to him and i will pour my heart. A day after, lying on my cold floor again, tomorrow i will find the courage to tell him, i decided. A day after again, tomorrow i decided once more. And again, and again, and again.
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Saturday, May 11, 2013

Letters and Numbers

Growing up i was always one of those book worms,
Father got us books and piled them in boxes and told us to read,
And the sweet part is, we loved every bit of it,
From Lady Birds to Enid Blytons,
We were his little books worms,
We made him proud,
I always hated school but loved to learn,
The point of going to a place filled with pretentious and competitive kids,
With adults, dictating what i can and can't do,
Taking a test to determine who's smart and who's not
Never made sense  to me,
The B makes me dumber than the A student,
And my F makes me a delinquent and possible street degenerate.
The idea behind waking up every morning,
To have my life written out for me on a sheet of paper,
Has never been a life i wanted.
"x + y" does not give me a "z"
And so my lack of ability to do the sum gets me a D
Which puts me at the bottom of the class,
And in my book, letters form words and numbers don't
But in algebra, its all mixed up and it gets me mixed up,
And so i can't read it, and i cant sum or subtract or even multiply it,
Miss says, "you need to study more" but what i need
Is for the alphabets to form words and not numbers and maybe
It would all make sense to me and if possible,
i would get an A and so Miss will think i'm smart.
And when the letters form words, I can read them in a book,
And it will all make sense and i will be in love with the book
And in my mind, life will be perfect.
Give me letters to form words, keep the numbers for the smart kids Miss.
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