Pent up

Penned, pent up, back behind the white picket fences of perfection.
Tell me: if not you who is supposed to unleash me?
To unchain me and release me from this mad hell,
where to be who I am is scorned on for the other more fanciful ideals.
Stop labelling those white picket fences,
stop making them look just when you want to tear them down as much as I do.
You should set yourself upon the world and live it to the fullest,
in more ways that one, in places you see fit.

Dear diary

“Your lips are soft and I like to kiss them,” she whispered in his ear, toying with his lips with her cold finger tips. “I like how you lie to me with them and tell me how beautiful I am, and how we will be together for millenias to come.” Sighing, she lied down beside him. “Why do you love me?” she asked, slyly, almost as if her large brown eyes were daring him to say something she didn’t want to hear. 

What is the point really? In asking questions that you know the answer to because it is the only answer available. Afterall, other answers meant certain death. 

She watched as he swallowed nervously, wanting to make sure he said the right things. 

“Because… you make me happy, and you’re beautiful,” eyeing her carefully, he continued cautiously. “Your eyes, your hips, your lips… Not only your body but your mind, you make me love you with your wit, your humour and your love for me. ”

He probably decided to give away all cautious and to hell with all the nonsense he read online. 

“I love you because I do, I can’t explain it, it isn’t like the articles you see on Facebook. It’s not about the 7 chracteristics you have that make you the perfect girlfriend, honestly how hard is it to find a girl with all 7 traits? You don’t even have some, but fuck it, I want you and I love you, all the same. ” He paused, as if to let the words sink in. 

She sighed again, slipping her fingers between his. “You know exactly the right words to say, I love you too. ”

He held her closer and felt the nuzzle of his chin against her head, her locks of black hair carelessly flung across the pillows. 

“And I do too. “

Cracks

You can barely see the cracks now.

She quietly admired the teapot, it took almost half an hour to tape all the pieces back together.

“Why even bother taping it back? It wasn’t even expensive,” he scoffed, eyeing the crevices wearily, “it wasted 30 minutes of your life, but it still looks brokened.”

She ignored him as he made his snide remarks about the teapot, it was her dream, it was her own effort that made this teapot more than it was.

“I want to take it to┬áthe Kintsugi,” she whispered.

Wabi-sabi, the art and philosophy behind the Japanese Kintsugi. The act of repairing pottery with gold and lacquered it so it looks beautiful despite its flaws, refining the details and transcending it into something more than it was.

The golden-rimmed teapot never was the same as the other ones.

There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.

-Leonard Cohen

“Will you ever learn to appreciate the scars?” she asked.

He looked at her, her gaze never left the teapot.

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Bruises

I tried to do handstands for you
I tried to do headstands for you
Everytime I fell you on yeah everytime I fell
I tried to do handstands for you
But everytime I fell for you
I’m permanently black and blue, permanently blue for you

– Chairlift “Bruises”

You gnashed you teeth into my shoulder,
marking me as yours.

Do you seem to understanding the complex feeling you get, when you look at that bruise, that circular, half-moon, crescent shape that is etched on your skin. Until your blood vessels start to recover and the platelets that have been frozen in their position, blacked and dead, have been washed away. I don’t know what craziness makes me love this, but I want to see you pink, black and blue for me.

Criss-cross, laden over my bare skin, your breath stings me.

Now I feel the ache between that epithelial, I feel you with me.

And I want you to feel me with you too, constantly.

 

Taking stock of 2015

2015 was a kiss on the forehead and a slap in the face, not simultaneously, but more in intervals, with time for me to feel the sweet intensity and the pain in between.

Lesson 1

Don’t give time to those who you won’t give a shit about in 3 years time.

Lesson 2

Don’t always believe what people say, especially when you’re blinded by your feelings.

Lesson 3

Being honest can be a pain in the ass, but if you want to choose the longer road, you have to tell the partial truth.

Lesson 4

Friends are indispensable, love those who stayed with you through thick and thin.

Lesson 5

Tears are valuable, not a tool to trick anyone, just an expression of emotions or feelings. Don’t misuse it, don’t abuse it, don’t dwell in it either.

Lesson 6

A mountain will always be a mountain.

No new year, new me bullshit.

Same old me, ready for more days ahead that are hopefully less of a waste of time. Be happy for 2016, and it will be a happy year for you.