[f-writes-blog]

and one day, I will find someone whose smile radiates like the sun,

whose warm, soft eyes will understand the apprehension and fear in mine,

and take them into his own.

a man who’s hands will be soft and whose chest will burst with flowers and birdsong when he holds me in his arms

until I find that love, I will pour it into the body of a 25 year old woman, who has survived years of taunts and comments and criticism and praise

years of glances of dismissal and disgust, then merging into lust and desire from the eyes of men

I will pour the love into the past mind of a curious, pondering child,

who loved her solitude and sought company in words, poems, stories, books.

I will filter it through small, slim hands, who have held the hands of those who have laughed, those who have cried, the hands which have written her own future and guided so many others

until I don’t find my sunlight radiating smile,

I will harbour it within myself.

[f-writes-blog]

Sadness

I take this sadness in my hands, and I nourish her. I am learning not to brush her aside, or dismiss her, or run away from her. At this moment in time, she is a part of me and I have to honour her.

I try and feed my sadness with small moments of happiness. My favourite breakfast. The fresh air of a summer’s day. The aroma of a comforting coffee. Sometimes I try and distract her by watching a comedy or listening to upbeat music. I look at myself in the mirror, at all the different faces I encapsulate and smile back.

Sometimes I let her take over. I sit in front of that very mirror and try to talk through my thoughts and feelings. At night, when I feel the most overwhelmed and the loneliest, I hold myself from a place of comfort. I need to console her, my sadness, just the way I welcome my happiness or express my excitement.

She may not be an emotion I want to feel. But she is still very much a part of me. I am trying to acknowledge that and accept her for what she is, knowing that this sadness too shall pass.

[f-writes-blog]

2.43

at 2.43 this afternoon, when I stood on top of the world,

I remembered you. but not in the nostalgic way I used to, laced with longing

I remembered you as a fond memory. as someone that I once knew,

who had stood beside me many moons ago, holding my hand as we looked down at the world before us

it took me endless days and countless months to go back. I was afraid I would feel you in the air around me and chase you like birds chase the wind in the sky,

yet what I felt instead was contentment. a sense of peace and a quiet acceptance amidst the storm of the clouds. 

I let the violent wind carry you away into the clouds and over the hills,

as I watched you go, at 2.43 this afternoon, when I stood on top of the world.