Sunday, 26 August 2012

"I can't make you love me, if you don't"

"I can't make you love me, if you don't." are the lamenting words of Bon Iver and as his music weeps, she weeps with him and I watch her tears fall down; slowly, hotly, painfully. She just had her heart broken tonight and I am her primary witness. What a mess, love is! What a fucking pathetic emotional creature, women are! And what a useless, impatient, selfish friend, I am. I wish I could make her feel better, make her stop crying...but nothing can, so I join her. She was deceived, and we share that. Her face is contorted by pain, her mascara all over her face, her hand clasping her heart, her body trembling from the pain and front of her a statue that stares back and feels utterly useless. I look at her cry and pray to God that it will be the last time I see her this way. A higher power must help this human being, this deeply beaten being by life, bad luck and too-much-love. My dear girl, tomorrow you will breathe, you will wipe your tears, put your make up on and falsely smile at the world so they can't notice the cracks. You will eat, you will drink, you will laugh, you will love, you will live!

For you, Vjola Miloj

Saturday, 25 August 2012

Another one bites the Goodbye...

He came and left;
like a mystery,
like the fleeting light of dawn,
like the fluttering of a beautiful, monarch butterfly,
like the memory he was supposed to be.

He stayed awhile;
trapped me in,
hosed me with his charm,
wet me with his desire,
burned me with his flame.

He crashed me in;
buttered up my soul,
enraptured my mind,
befuddled my senses,
and made love to my complexes.

I was in him,
like he was in me.
Now, he is just a bittersweet memory...
Floating eerily in the halls of my mind,
like an enigma out of time.

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

So many stories...

How can I explain the world this sadness I have within me? How do I extract the hurt out of my soul? Erase the wounds in my heart? No one knows the transmutations of emotions within this tired body,  the overwhelming firing of overly analytical neurons and the interlocking hurt of this soul's choice of mistakes.

"All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am"