#acceptorchange

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Do you think I can have one more kiss? I’ll find closure on your lips and I’ll go...

Maybe, also... one more breakfast, one more lunch and one more dinner? I’ll be full and happy and we can part...

But in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time, one more prolonged moment when time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest...

My hope, is if we add up the one mores, they will equal a lifetime and I’ll never get to the part where I’d let you go.

But that’s not real is it?

There are no more one mores...

I met you when everything was new and exciting, and the possibilities of the world seemed endless.

And they still are.

For you, for me. But not for us.

Somewhere between then and now, here and there, I guess we didn’t just grow apart, We grew up.

When something breaks, if the pieces are large enough, you can fix it.

Unfortunately, sometimes things don’t break, they shatter.

But when you let the light in,

Shattered glass will glitter

And in those moments,

When the pieces of what we were catch the sun, I’ll remember just how beautiful it was.

Just how beautiful it will always be. Because it was us. And we were magic.

© Someone Great

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Illegitimi non carborundum

Don’t let the bastards get you down 🤍

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“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.” Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

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Negatiewe Nostalgia

Ek’t een te veel gedrink vanaand,

en al waaraan ek kan dink is jou...

Jou oseaanblou oë staar diep in my siel en ek voel hoe die garings van die gebroke dele van my hart uit hulle nate bars. Is daar enige deel van my wat jy nie ontravel nie?

My verbourerende verlede probeer sy kop uitsteek deur my fyn gepleisterde masker en ek weet nie hoe om hom weg te steek nie...

Sal jy my aanvaar (met my gepleisterde masker) en al?

Die negatiewe nostalgia wat ek voel wanneer ek “The Rasmus” oor die radio hoor maak my senuweeagtig en ek

wonder...

(vir die hoeveelste keer)

hoe ‘n persoon soos ék jóú kan verdien?

Jy sing onbewustelik die lirieke saam terwyl my toekoms en verlede in ‘n gevuisveg in die skadus van jou aangesig is...

Dis hier, tussen skadu en lig, wat ek besluit die negatiewe nostalgia is dít wat my die persoon maak wie ek is vandag,

En dis tyd....

Om haar te aanvaar vir wie sy is.