Snowflake kisses,
like cotton candy clouds,
linger in an air of silence,
where eyes closed like windows,
shut to an open diary,
of strawberry memories,
and chocolate longings.
I lay here in bed today thinking about yesterday, the day before, the week ago, and the month long past where you were no longer at my side. With great effort, the tears do not fall, only faint tired smiles as the sweeter memories waft back like the aroma of cookies in my still empty room. I hugged your old college jacket you left here for me, trying to capture what presence of you that remains. Did I not love you enough? Did I really love my work more than I did you? I think not. At journey's end, all that remain is a dusty shelf of old poetry, and cartons of writing from long dead poets, and at best a degree testifying to this long journey. What else could I take from this long walk? I wish I could take you, for the long journey that is life thereafter. I can hear the gentle hum of muffled thunder beyond my window, sister sky calls for me. I put on your ghostly shell, grabbing the clear umbrella that had sheltered us before and ran mindless out of my house, to the spot that you said you would be waiting. Slamming the gate shut before me, I ran barefoot towards the lift, zooming past my startled neighbor. It doesn’t matter, I did not care, I needed the first drops of rain to clear my eyes, to cleanse my soul. Too late, the rain had already begun to fall, their gentle patter greeting me softly on the clear umbrella as I ran up the stairs to our garden. Pools of water have already begun to form and I was breathless in the stirring storm. I stopped at the brink, where the sky met with Eden, the horizon glazed with sheeted rain. I inhaled deeply, tossing the umbrella aside, letting the rain envelope me with the little you that remains. The cold embrace like death gripped my heart, as the sheer pajamas did little to warm me. It was not only the cold, but your sheer absence; a greater iciness that followed that forced me to my knees. The water fell oblivious to my presence, as the rain form like rivers, descending and cascading down the stairs like memories slipping by, like the past washing from me like dirt off a knelling statue. Did I cry? I probably did, but no one would know. All they could see from their homes above as a crumpled blue figure, a silly girl barefoot in her sleep wear wearing a mismatched jacket. I felt like an abandoned pet, left behind to fade away in this cold cruel world.
How long has it been? How long was it when tears fell like the rain, flooding our universes when you left? I always remember. You never left me. Haunting me, holding me back from ever finding love again. I dreamt of you today. I was sitting in a lecture bored half to death by Derridean deconstruction. You barged in and took my hands and I found myself running as you led me along. We ran, the world slipped by us, colours, people, places, we never stopped. When we finally did, she was there. She pointed us out and you let me fall. When I woke, I found that it was still dark. Beyond my window, the stars which watched our journey by candlelight remain like sentinels, watching our separate souls wander in circles as I struggle to reach you. I try to believe that elsewhere you woke too, reaching out to feel the remnants of our imagined connection. I sat there holding my own hands, the same hands that held yours just moments ago. You clearly never left, my heart never really left either. The dreams tell me so. All signs point towards a serial melancholic. Its evident really. The books I read, the music I listen too, those letters in my drawer, those promises, I always remember, and I doubt I will ever forget.
Eventually I did find you, and when you finally said "Hallo", time folded. Here I am where I have begun, loving you like it was only yesterday. The palimpsest of love seemingly lost became merely a mark where love once was, your presence fills it again with life, an artificial life, an irrational hope for an impossible tomorrow. The Sky is grey today, her countenance clouded in deep contemplation as a maelstrom of lightning and confusion threatens rain upon the cold barren earth.
Sometimes I ponder a little about love, wondering if I have fallen in love with the concept of love. Perhaps love really cannot be pinned down, something that is so special, so beyond the corrupting touch of words. But today I shall try, like how so many other before me have tried and most likely failed. Its like pinning the most beautiful sky blue butterfly onto a framed board to immortalize and capture its beauty. The end result is death.
But here we go. I believe that love could very very likely be a result of our over-active imagination and our massive ability to narrativise our universe as we see fit. Even as I pen in this notebook, my experiences are negotiated and mediated by my indebtedness to the English language, to the dead playwrights of the Renaissance right up to the Modern writers like Joyce and Woolf. As such, each of us have in our minds these idioms, images and imaginations on how love at first sight or falling in love should be. But that's all in our head. Thus when we fall in love, it is usually a result of misrecognition. The Other merely have certain traits that we have idealized. To make matters worse, if this is our first love, what we merely do is transpose this template cut out ideal and attempt to frame a physical human mortal being into this impossible framework of infinity - Love. But as with all things new and novel, there is this aura of mystery and the unknown surrounding them, thus how easy and readily do our love objects seem momentarily to fit so perfectly into this imagination. We fall in love with ourselves in the progress, we fall in love with our very minds which in their over hyper imagination, have blinded us to all the fictivity of our failed perception of the perfect one, when more likely than not, are very much imperfect. To make matters worse, men these days seem only to want to sleep with you, so that manifests forth in a series of speech and action that they perceive will fit into our very impossible, impractical, yet momentarily achievable ideals. After they do sleep with us, the mystery ends for them, and will very likely end for us. If it goes on, reality kicks in, we get to know the other better, they too are living, breathing, and is gradually shown to fall very short of the impossible ideal we have constructed. For those who are fortunate enough to not sexualize a relationship, and are fortunate enough to delay male conquest, and are able to not let our real self be fully realized by the other, chances are if they have stamina, we have ourselves this extremely long honey moon period, which we often mistake for true love. Thereafter, the relationship will still eventually fail, once either party begins to fall short. Love is thus tragic, a horrible concept that is mere fiction, but a fiction we nevertheless need as we move along from one failed relationship to the next in an endless chain of dead desires.
Tears well up in my eyes as I pen this. My heart hurt so much in this exercise of wit. I cannot help but feel this gripping fear. What is this void that I glance into? Am I really in love with love, not you? I want to believe otherwise! Are you so perfect to me, just merely because I want us to be pure, and that I am merely an object of your conquest? Just hold me, tell me you love me, and I'll forget this stupid musing. I can barely even write on, my strength gradually fails me. Just tell me those three words again so I can believe.
I remember the chirps of morning birds as I smell the familiar fragrance of your pancakes cooking in the kitchen. Sunlight peeks through the your half drawn curtains as I rubbed my eyes to a brand new day. I lay there for a moment longer, lingering in your bed, enjoying the soft touch of your brown cotton quilt on my skin as I breathe in your scent, letting it envelope me. The gentle hum of your air-conditioner puntuates an otherwise silent room, where framed photographs of you and me peppered the glass table beside me. Roses. You bought roses, somehow, the blue ones that I loved, the naturally blue ones like the clear blue sky, so rare, so hard to find, so expensive. I carefully picked it up from the slim cylindrical metal vase, touching the soft supple petals as i let its scent mingle with my thoughts. Silly me, I fell asleep in that pretty white dress, the one with blue floral prints like this one. I stretched and yawned like your little kitten, wondering how absurd I always look in the morning. I opened your wardrobe, peering in furtively, looking for the college shirt I always usurped. I paused for a moment, hearing the soft clinking of utensils being laid on the table beyond the door. Just enough time, you won’t step in. Even if you did... I giggled playfully and quickly slipped out of the dress, letting it fall carelessly behind me, like how the sky changes her colours and clouds at whim. I eased myself in your huge cotton shirt, letting myself get momentarily lost in a sea of muffled whiteness as the excess cloth draped conveniently and modestly to my thighs. I could almost picture myself sashaying into the kitchen then voicing my most seductive lines to your shocked shocked face. Alas, just a silly thought experiment. I looked up at the adjacent mirror, suddenly conscious, realising what a mess my hair was this morning and every other morning. A swift search across your dresser yielded a handy scrunchie I always leave handy. In a few deft motion, I bunned up my wild uncontrollable tresses. At least now I seem more presentable for breakfast, more lovable. I quietly pushed upon the door, wanting to surprise you with a huge hug. Past the familiar corridor of sparkling polish parquet, i tiptoed down the stairs, as it creaked defiantly at my little pet project. I frowned but I loved how you would always play along with my little game, pretending to be oblivious, pretending to be surprised when I held u tightly from behind in my hands. Alas, there you stood, like always, back facing to me in your comfy singlet from our last trip to Thailand. I pounced and you swung around surprising me instead as I yelped like a floundered kitten as you spun me around in your loving arms, letting me fall low but never touching the ground. My heart thumped faster, not from the shock, but from the exhilaration of being happily in your arms. Your face was so close to mine as I gazed deeply into your eyes, those big brown eyes as I saw my silly self mirrored before me. The silly huntress is now wholly at your will. I reached out and placed a finger on your cute button nose and let it linger as you lovingly brushed away those loose strands of hair that had fallen over my face. I saw your sweet lips widen into a familiar grin as your countenance grew larger and closer. Almost naturally, I closed my eyes, shy, conscious as I felt your lips pressed deeply to mine, the comforting smell of love filling my senses. I swooned as you whispered in my ears. "Good morning sunshine, my radiant beautiful Sky". I found myself lost in a plenitude of joy as I struggled with all my heart to capture fully this moment.