Voice

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“It was like a whisper… you couldn’t have not heard it…”

“I didn’t hear a thing”

“There it goes again… listen”

“What?!”

“Sssshhhhh!! LISTEN!”

Awake

The warm summer air is caressing my forehead as the Sun is coming out. I love sleeping with the windows open, if I cannot sleep outside. The nature is bringing all sorts of tranquility to my mind. Clears my head and filters my thoughts… keeping only what is most important, the ones that make me who I am. I can feel the emptiness forming, the clutter dissipating, the clearing brought by the new sunshine on my face. And yes…there’s only you.

The Scorching

Sand dunes have nothing on the dust
That’s ripping through my lips –
I know that being lost you must
Forget our need to kiss.

If there’s a cry the desert shouts
As winds tear it apart
It wouldn’t dare to match my doubts
That stop and start my heart.

It All Started with a Bug – Part 3

Read part 2 here

Little did he know what I actually meant by “cocoa”. In fact… I don’t think he even realized what impact his words have had on me. Somehow he was able to portray the world in the same way that I see it, make it shine in the same light, make it hide in the same darkness. Or am I just lying to myself and there is no actual similarity to be found – I can’t really tell anymore – and I can’t really convince myself it’s the thing that matters. I’m slowly starting to feel that the desire to be with him turns into a need, talking to him turns into a necessity. He’s becoming both my illness and my ointment… being so far and still so close. How can this be?

Hurt

Let it be that’s all a dream – a lie of life, a joke played on my spirit.

Let it be that this won’t happen, won’t bleed itself to death.

Let it be that what I’ve heard is false and has no meaning.

Let it be that I was right in opening my heart.

Let it be that what I feel is just a shadow of what is.

Let it be that I don’t break under the truthful lie I’m living in.

Spiral

I am sitting down, pretending to work. I keep the chat open, hoping she’ll write something, anything. There’s nothing I want more than to hear from her. It feels like I’ve spent here hours… days… just waiting. Nothing else seems to exists, the air doesn’t move, the monitors don’t flicker. It’s all the same, day after day, as if the future is set and I’m a frozen statue: immovable and without life. I’m waiting for the breathing to stop, so I can count the the moments until the eternal slumber.

The Cure

Intro: If you must be sick, be sick with longing!

There is no harm that can affect
A person who’s in love.
The very feeling can reflect
All dangers in the world.

If there’s a sickness to be had
That any man would fear
And having it would make you mad
It wouldn’t dare get near.

If searching for a cure to all
Stop now and feel your heart beat –
And all the fears and walls will fall
When listening to it.

Tum Se Hi

From you I learned how true love feels –
You’ve set my heart on fire!
My spirit now no longer yields –
It’s dancing with desire!

From you I got my smile back
And now my soul in singing,
You’ve set my life again on track
My seed of dreams is springing!

From you I got to learn again
What happiness should be
 I got to catch my own life’s train
And have you ride with me…

Mountain Top – The Rose

Read Part 3 here: Mountain Top – The Sun is Rising

Photo by Andriyko Podilnyk on Unsplash

The message literally made her jump out of bed. But this time as blood was filling her face, the sensation was pretty clear that she is awake. This was no dream. But still… why “Knock, knock!”? The door seemed so far away for a moment, but it was only a few steps. It took her some time to take those steps though. Each step closer to the door was heavier somehow. At the very least however, there was no noise coming from outside and everyone seemed to be either asleep or hiding from the cold. She looked out the window for a bit. It’s snowing; no one is at the door. But something compelled her to open it either way.

When she opened the door, the cold air and some snow flakes rushed in, giving her some shivers. But down on the porch, buried in the shallow snow, there was the most beautiful red rose, with a small book tied to it. Being an avid reader, for a moment she forgot about the creepiness of it all and grabbed the rose and the book, stepped inside and closed the door. It was a tiny book, almost like a brochure, but with a hand painted cover and calligraphed title. Took her a while to realize, under the dampness that had struck the paper… but it was a beautiful painting of her… and the title was “It All Started with a Bug”.

It All Started with a Bug – Part 2

Read part 1 here

He hasn’t been online this morning. I guess it’s too early for him… I’ve been awake for hours because of time zones. Still… let me compute. No… I’ll just google to check again. Yes it’s 10 a.m. for him. Is he ghosting me? No he’s not… something must be wrong.

[…]

It’s afternoon now. Nothing. What day is it? Saturday… Am I expecting too much of him? Am I the only one who feels this way? I feel like I know him, reading all he’s written. And we talked so much… I want to see him. That’s so needy! What if I’m the only one feeling this way…