unslaked

The urge to move you, pushes air out of my lungs.
I want to make you feel.

Passion.
Guilt.
Love.

The urge to touch you, forces lids to tightly shut.
I want to have you understand.

Commitment.
Compromise.
Love.

The urge to keep you, strains my fingers to trembling.
I want to let you see.

Pain.
Trust.
Love.

The urge to love you is too strong.

If wanting, spent and refilled, were our basis, you would be borne on clouds
to my feet, left there to bathe in caresses and breathless whispers

Of love
Unbidden,
Ignored.

of strange encounters and lost possibilities

it was the light that night,
the light dancing steady in your eyes.

it was the weight of your stare;
palpable on my shoulders as i continued to move.

it was the slowing of my blood
as i turned on my back, catching my breath.

it was the heat and cold mixing;
and i fought, composing myself to remain calm under your gaze.

it was an intensity, unmatched.
i couldn't bring myself to meet the questions stirring behind your mask.

homage to the great poet

Pablo Neruda, one of the greatest poets to have held pen to paper. I just wanted to share this with whoever might take the time to read this blog. enjoy. I hope you end up loving him, Neruda, as much as I do. ^__^


I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

i miss you guys

how does it happen exactly, the parting of friends? it seems so long ago when i was part of your life. and yet, when i think of you, nothing has changed. i remember. and yes, maybe it's an imperfect memory. details blurred. dates mixed and tangled. the telling is always different. but maybe that's what makes it so priceless. treasured stories of each other we keep hidden in shoe boxes, in books that accumulate with dust, in pages we turn over and over again. an attempt to recapture moments. different for each of us. we take away only what we found beautiful and worthwhile. sometimes, it's a small thing. but with us, it was always entire days of images flashing through the mind.

remember we promised to always be there for each other? remember those crazy ideas of opening a shop together? something for everyone right? (which for us meant food) but how could we possibly be good at that when we were too busy enjoying ourselves? and so the plan bloomed, involving the paths we chose to take. nurses and a doctor for a hospital, and a lawyer for all the screw-ups we were bound to make.

but dreams like ours have a funny way of remaining just that, dreams. i don't know anymore what you do during your free time. i don't know what drove you insane today. or what crazy new inside joke you have. we have different lives and different people have come to fill the roles we used to have with each other. a new laugh. a new set of arms to fall into.

i miss you guys.

still

a jumble of fingers:entwined, hands:crossing, arms:draped
a mixture of body against warm body:mingling in the heat

no lines, rather contours. hips:merging, legs:interlaced
breath dwelling only narrowly in crevices left between

a mirroring of slow steady movements:shifting of weight
a dance of mirrored forms nestling snugly into place

i lie content, barely aware of your presence alongside mine
boundaries:blended:blurred:one

something new

it felt good to finally do something new. i hadn't realized that life had become monotonous. don't get me wrong, having a routine isn't bad. but somehow it felt extremely good to do something fresh.

it was fun, doing soccer drills in the rain. it was even more fun to actually play soccer for the first time in my life. i knew only a handful of the people who were there but oddly enough, i was comfortable. i'd never been filthier in my whole life and yet it was completely refreshing. it was just what i needed, i suppose.

i wouldn't trade my first passion for anything in the world but i guess we all need a break, even from the things we love to do most. yesterday was a good day. it was good to be that person who sucked and had no idea what to do. it was gratifying to know that simply kicking the ball (even to the opponent) earned you a pat on the back and a few words of praise. it was fun. i'd forgotten what fun was. pure and simple fun from which you could walk away without feeling drained and completely out of it.

i went home wearing something i owned, something i borrowed, something disposable (thanks laya), and not wearing something that i should've been wearing. :) i looked a mess and i'm sure i wasn't completely mud-free yet but i didn't care. and it felt good not to care.