Second-Hand Heart.

It has been
bruised, hurt, broken, crushed, torn
and thrown up and down the curves
of extreme emotion.


It has been set aflutter by meaningless words
and stilled to silence by unkind touches.

It has longed for fairytales
but not given up Hope with everyday realities presented to it.

It has questioned Humanity and then
fallen in wonder at the greatness of Creation.

I bring my Second- hand heart to you
in humility and abjection.

There are some scars on the surface
and frays at the seams.

But it loves you with all its beating power
You are the reason it wants to be redeemed.

I implore you-
Treat it kindly.
.

Forever.

Send me roses
and silver boxes of
star-stuff
and I will love
you  more for it.
Swing me from the highest bark
of a worn-out age-old Oak
that tunnels its roots into the dark soil-
the same way you clawed through the
frost of my dark heart.
Kiss me hard as we stand in the eye of a sandstorm
or the turbulence of families.
Hold me close when I stumble
in doubt of tomorrow
or a bad trip.
Let me be a part of you
in equal as you are a part of me.
Etch words like 'Destiny', 'Rose' and 'Time' on my palm.
Let Forever start now.

Memories of Midnight.

Tonight it was different.
He sat up quickly in bed. The thousand stars he slept under, pricked his ancient skin with their cold, sharp points. He seemed to bleed moonlight and loneliness.
The death of a lover is a terrible thing. No more arms and limbs to entangle yourself in. No more sipping the same air while breathing hurriedly through love-making. No more singing crazily during Rainy July. No more witnesses to your life. He didn't always miss her but tonight, well, it didn't feel like other nights.
He couldn't remember the sound of her voice anymore. And it was not because he was turning deaf due to old age. Memory is a twisted maze in which we lose ourselves, rushing hastily through escape routes, reaching dead-ends, coming up lazily to a cul-de-sac and wondering, 'How the Hell did I end up HERE?'
We lose the essence of people, of things. Our sadness gets tinged with longing, with that familiar drop in the stomach till its nothing but a feeble nostalgia, creeping up in the deepest roots of our heart.A mere memory of sadness.
He was forgetting his wife. Once, she had been the sole reason he got out of bed in the mornings. And now this.
He pressed his eyes shut tighter. As if the pressure could force his mind to milk some old, faded  memory of her. It didn't. But then-
He saw her wade into the blue waters on the night of her 22nd Birthday. Her skirts hitched up to her knees. Her smile created ripples in the still, dark waters of her eyes . It was the first time he had the courage to reach out and touch her brown skin. And she hadn't held back...
 There was no doubt he loved her with his eternity.
A comet blazed brilliantly through the sky- hot and quick and beautiful. Just like their love had been. It glazed the night sky with the Hope of returning again, in another Time- a recurring Love story.

Goner.

Things are good when they are slow.
You can reflect.
You can dissect words.
Read between the lines.
You INVEST in a single person.
Time, Effort, Emotion.
Exchange pop references.
Understand what makes a person tick.
Make it through bad conversations and cranky moods.
Survive distance and each other.
Because, at the end of the day- there is no guarantee about anything.
But if you stick along long enough, it's a good enough yard stick to measure reliance.
Maybe.

Sometimes, it gets difficult.
Sometimes you want different things.
Or the same thing, but at different times.
What should you do?
Adjust?
Communicate?
I'm so scared that I may be the only one thinking all this.
What if this thing isn't so complex in his head?
Does he think about things like these?
I don't know and after today, I know better than to ask.
There is a lot of Blank SPACE.
You need something to fill it up with.
But what after?

There is something about blindly trusting something, someone.
A FEELING.
Well, If nothing else. I will thank this because it made me feel again.
And God knows I needed some emotion now.
For starters, I listened to an HOUR of 'Best Love Songs' on Youtube.

Power of Love- Jennifer Rush
Making Love Outta Nothing At All- Air Supply
Total Eclipse of the Heart-Bonnie Tyler

OMG. POWER BALLADS OF THE 80's!?

Extreme Case ALERT!

If things don't worsen from here,
I'm a Goner.

:P

Long Chapter- Beginnings.

There are times when you are just in awe about how things seem to work out.
You find that firefly in the night sky.
You follow it- fleeting, flitting  bright spark.
That turns out to be a silver star, burning brightly in a your own personal constellation-
So much Hope in the dark.

Somebody told me you must not express too soon. You don't put words to your thoughts. Only morons do it. Or people who don't mean it. What do I do with this excess emotion then? Where do I keep it? Thank God for my blog.

Love.
It's making me giddy, dizzy.
I get goosebumps when I hear a love song these days.
I hum along to La Vie En Rose.
I croon like Louis Armstrong.

Who'd have thought something I was doing out of need could turn into something I could want so bad?
This must be a spark well-kindled, but it must be fed.
Fed with silence and effort and patience.

It takes Time to write a long chapter.
And I couldn't think of anything better to do right now.

How long does it last?
If it's done right?
A lifetime.