I am without time

"Stay." He whispered, gripping her wrist tightly from the bed as she tried to put her clothes on.
She looked around the hotel; things scattered everywhere, furniture moved from their usual spots, clothes strewn all over the floor. She gripped her clothes tightly in her free hand and looked down at him lying in the bed. She removed his hand from her wrist and smiled delicately.
"Staying means something, sweety." She took one more glance around the room, "and this -- this is meaningless."
She continued buttoning her jeans and then threw on the previous day's t-shirt, grabbed her shoes and left the room without looking back to see his crestfallen face.

Now I know how they feel; all those unrequited lovers.
You love from a distance, painfully and regretfully wondering, "How the hell did I get here?"
But you're here
At this lower than dirt point. Your chest is aching and your mind is racing and to face the facts would be losing hope, but when hope is all you have,
Giving up really isn't an option...

Don't Cry Over Spilt Tea

To put it simply, I am a disaster.
I wake up and every morning, it's one of those mornings where nothing seems to go smoothly. One of those mornings where I've woken up late, I never have enough time, my shower won't heat up and by the time I see my reflection in the mirror, I realize that my face has a brand new pimple right on my lip line and oh my god will people think I have herpes?
Lately, this is how every single day begins. Slowly, these mornings that leave me rushing and scrambling and ready to pull my hair out are becoming standard. Soon, they'll be nothing special and I'll be surprised when things actually work out. However, today began with what was especially one of those disastrous mornings.
When I finally left my house, it was in halves: my makeup was half done on one half of my face, my shoes were half on, half tied and they looked like two completely different shoes. Somehow, I also managed to leave my shirt completely unbuttoned exposing my half covered breasts to the chill of these early fall mornings.
I rush to get where I'm going and when I finally get there, the rush continues as I run to get a much needed cup of tea to help me relax.

Then you come strolling in.

You walk slowly, casually, effortlessly as if the time that evades us all has absolutely no effect on you.
You look perfect; well put together, beard groomed, thick hair lightly gelled back to keep it from obstructing your face. My heart does a little back flip and then somersaults straight into my stomach.
Your deep voice rumbles a good morning.
A huge embrace and a kiss on the cheek.
Its been months.
And despite the state I was in, just like old times, you smiled and told me that I was an absolute mess but you looked at me like I was beautiful.
At least that's what I hoped.

We sit together and we talk and remember and share stories of the months we missed. I want to fall asleep to the sound of your voice. I want to rest my head on your shoulder and be closer to you than I am now.
I refrain myself.
We are not how we used to be.

I try to put myself together as we sit and talk. I'm suddenly overcome with the need to at least seem like I am somewhat composed, like I've changed; like I'm better than I was all those months ago.
The truth is that I'm not. I'm the same scattered, chaotic, somewhat needy girl that feels desperate for your affection now, that I was then.
But I keep my mouth shut like I did then and I keep my hands to myself and my thoughts remain everywhere except in the proper order. I may be needy, but you'd never know.
You never did know.

This morning, like all those other dreadful beginnings, never get better just because you will them to.
I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable; to look at you while you talk; to hang on to your words and let your rumbling voice barrel straight through me. I knocked over my steeping cup of tea and it spilled everywhere; all over the seats, over our bags and all over us.

I'm not sure how you looked at me then. I was too humiliated to look.
But you moved away from the spill and pulled me closer and told me not to worry.
My head slumped in frustration and my heart sunk in anguish. This -- this crazy disheveled young woman before you is me. This is always going to be me me and to put it simply, I'm a disaster.
And you... You're just so perfect. Can you ever be accepting of someone who is so far from it?

I want somebody to love me.
When I make these bumbling mistakes; when I leave my house in halves or fall down a flight of stairs or when I completely ruin an outfit, I don't want someone to pity me. I want my mistakes -- who i am-- to be part of the reason that I am loved and not the reason I'm alone.
I'm not sure if you're that somebody. In fact, I'm sure you're not, but I know that I still get butterflies when I know that I'm going to see you. I know that the things you say, stay with me. I know that you drive me crazy and also that I am absolutely crazy about you.

This morning, this shitty, disaster of a morning was no different from the others.
Except for you.

This is for me

This is because I am out of my mind and I want to get back in.

This is for me...

This is not for you.

This is not about you,
because of you,
in spite of you...
You make no difference here.

This is not for you.

One of my favourite photos to date.

You Love Me Sometimes

You love me sometimes
            You love me when we’re alone
                        When no one can hear it
                                    It’s like you’re afraid
                                                Or embarrassed
                                                            Or ashamed…

You love me in front of strangers
            You’ll hold my hand
                        And kiss my neck
                                    And tell me loudly that I am loved
                                                But your friends are a different story

You love me when we’re in bed
            When you push your body into mine
                        And we share breath and sweat and kisses
                                    You tell me it’s not just sex; We’re making love

You love me when you look into my eyes
            You tell me you never stopped
                        It’s 5am and you don’t want me to leave
                                    It’s 5am and I’m so tired
                                                You look into my eyes and tell me you love me
                                                            And you kiss me goodnight

And I want to believe it’s all the time
            But why am I still a secret?
Why is there no answer when I call?
            Why do you look around to make sure your friends aren’t watching when we kiss?
Why do you make sure they’re out of ear shot
            before you whisper that you love me?
Why do I feel like you’re ashamed
            of me?

Take to the sky

Rebirth