A Story

Guaranteed that where I want this to go, It will not.

Anyway;



It was raining slightly, cloudy, but the wind stood out the most. The gentle rain wasn’t helping either. Streetlights illuminated narrow beams of rain, giving the street a warm, glowing feeling, despite the cold air. The sound hit me as much as the warmth did, as I entered the crowded room. The sound of so many totally different stories being told, some laughing, others serious. Moods varied throughout the entire room, each threatening the next; regret as much as happiness, anger as much as pleasure. I remembered the old match box, taped tightly shut with black tape, never removed or replaced over all these years. The matchbox was musty, the tape frayed and tearing. A deep sigh raked my heavy chest, all the weight of these years in the dark coming to a climax on this night. I wanted to know the truth, but the truth daunted me. Like a perfect rose, my desire for answers was riddled with thorns.
I consciously became aware of the cold once more as I sat at a table in no particular place in the room, not hidden in the corner, or out in the open. There was no need to be conspicuous, but a slight compelling for privacy. The man across the table from me acknowledged my arrival with no more than a slight change in his posture. My father. He subtly became defensive, enclosed and personal. Without voicing my shock, I noticed that his ring was gone. Such a subtle feature, yet it stung with a lifetime of selfless patience. So much had occurred; I needed to fill in the gaps for myself. But the cold and even formal appearance of the man opposite me suggested that he too, wanted answers. Gradually the muffled roar of frivolities and somberness spinning through the room began to fade into the night, like the rain passing in and out of the beams of light in the street. The room emptied and with it went the cheeriness, when only a few detached customers remained. He shifted once more, and my hand wrapped around the matchbox in my pocket, in a reassuring, even protective instinct. I fought back feelings of regret with a constant reminder in my head, a mantra to prompt my sense of success; the box was still shut, I had done the right thing.
A shift in his posture woke me from complex musings, his fingers nervously closing around his ring finger, in a habitual gesture, twisting the ring that was no longer there. He too was aware of this seemingly pointless action, and it hurt him deeply. I could see the loss in his eyes, his regret for a choice taken the wrong way, his yearning for something more, something different. A night of long awaited repentance, and yet, up to this point, nothing had been said.
“The match box, is it still closed?”
“Yes, it is.”
And with that he left, the cold air pushing my eyes to tears, forcing me to turn away. Without second thought, I withdrew the matchbox, as naïve and clueless in its old age as I was unsuitably wise for my youth. Using a knife from the table before me, I began to cut away the black tape. With shaking hands I slid the box out from its cover, turning the container upside down, pouring whatever the box held into my hand. The contents spilled into my hands, falling between my fingers to the floor, the sound not unlike that of the falling rain outside. Matches.

A Tribute

And I loved it to,
Just to feel you there beside me.
My heart will never stop beating as long as you're in my arms.
Never stop beating for you.
I love you for everything,
You are the girl every other girl should strive to become.
The night pales before your beauty,
We have never been more alive.

The Tide

I cannot hold on to an emotion for long enough to grasp what it means.
Anger turns into dissapointment,
Happiness to regret,
Contentment to longing.
It is like a rope around my hands and ankles.
As soon as i bite through the bonds, i realise that the rope is holding me,
Stopping me from falling.

Will

When it's time for me to go,
Will I turn and walk away?

Stairwell

He slowly picks his body over the banister,
Until he hangs precariously from the edge.
With his back facing the opposite wall,
His eyes looking straight up,
He holds on, for his life.

Three stories up, a young boy leans over.
He is startled by what he sees,
But of course he does not understand.
"What are you doing down there?"
He asks.
The man does not reply, simply closes his eyes,
And opens his hands.

That night, the boy tells his mother what he saw.
The mother is shocked, and breaks down.
The boy asks her,
"If I had said something else, would he have held on?"

Resolute

When you kissed me and looked into my eyes,
laughed softly and held me tighter,
I knew that love was no longer a strong enough word.
No words are strong enough,
And that is why I can truly say that my feelings for you,
Are too powerful to describe.

Can you find meaning,
In the way I hold you?
The way I play with your hair?
The endless things I do for you?
Can you find the words i cannot say,
In the depth of my eyes?
The hasty beat of my heart?
The passion of our kisses?

Oh, if only these things were true.

?

Tears for you,
Tears shed alone.

You will never know.

Still

I stand in the centre of the city,
And watch the people bustle past,
Places to go,
Lives to live.
And soon,
They all are all gone.
I am left.
Which street do I take?

Never

Never expect that people who love you with everything,
Will stand and watch,
As you pick yourself up.
Can you picture that?
Never will that be me.

Even if you tell me to leave you alone,
I will never do that.
I will always help you up.





Should I?

Open Your Eyes

Ask yourself,
if you would sooner see the faults of me,
then all i do right and well.
the answer may indeed be obvious,
but what are you going to do with it.

Open your eyes to the good stuff,

and oh, will you be surprised.

Fate

Do not be sorry,
if you are afraid.
Fear is not within our control,
Yet we must not let it consume us,
You can never stop the thoughts,
But you can allow me,
To fill you with hope,
And never stop believing.

Fate.
Two paths,
A world apart,
But where they finally meet,
The stars envy their standing.

A sunlight grove,
Autumn leaves like butterflies,
A patch of the softest grass,
A boy and a girl,
Fingers tangled,
Passion sparkling in their eyes.

And this was how it was meant to be.

Stars

Oh, beautiful night,
Shall you take my love away from me?
She is as fragile,
As the blades of grass on which I lay.
For these are not the only blades pressed against my skin,
And it is for her that I taint the soil.
Let her be for one more night,
For surely she will rise with the sun,
And return to my embrace once more,
Her sparkling eyes will replace the stars,
Until once more we fight for our love.

Remember, Remember

I watch as the man in the orange suit
Begins to paint the wall.
With the white paint,
The memories depart.
A thousand tragic scrawlings,
A hundred artistic moments,
One united front.
Washed away by the ‘cleansing blanket’ of our society.
Soon, the fight will be over,
And with it,
Our independence will die.

Kiss It Better

Which way now?
Where do I go from here?

The door is gone,

but I am still hollow.

I will never forget my time in that room,

for these scars will never fade.

Reborn

Today, you opened the door.
you came inside, and you sat down next to me.
You told me that you would have forgiven me no matter what,
and that you will love me forever.

I told you that all my effort was wasted.

But now, I realise that it was not wasted at all.
What I did made me forgive myself,
so I could accept forgiveness from you.

And so, for what seemed like forever, I cried on your shoulder, and you cried on mine.

The tears washed away all doubt,

and now I know that we were born to be together,
we were meant to be,
this was the only way I would have it.


Hand in hand, we walked through the door, and the room disappeared from within me.
The observer is gone, I am real once more.
and I will love you,
Forever and back.