7 Shades of Life

Just some thoughts of mine, conveniently arranged into easily understood poems. While the poems are (obviously) originally mine, feel free to reblog.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Vignette #2

“So James,” Malia began, “I’ve been thinking...” James’ heart sped up. Was it finally time? “...so what do you think?” Seeing his confused gaze, she elaborated, “There’s this really nice waitress at Cafe Vestera, and I think you’d be perfect together. I even got her number for you!”

She was looking at him expectantly, and it took him a few minutes to remember how to speak, “Um...yeah...sure, I guess?” He could always tell her it didn’t work out. Besides, if Malia figured he had a crush, she would pester him relentlessly.

Malia passed him the number, “I’m sure you two can work out the details yourselves.” It wasn’t like she had some kind of ulterior motive, anyway. She  just had the added bonus of seeing two of her friends happy together.

So, yeah, another part of the series. Tell me what you think?

[tristitia-maestitia]

Last Note

He had an hour to come home so she checked, double, triple, couldn’t let anything go wrong. Tears in her eyes, but steady hand she left a note - couldn’t let him worry. Three years, six days, one hour, culminated into these moments. Couldn’t let anything slip couldn’t let anything seem less than perfect so she checked, double, triple.

Three years, six days, two hours, culminating to this, the keys fell from his hands, his footsteps  echoed down the hallway. He entered the room, shaking hands but dry eyes, he took it in. Faintly wondered if this was all there is. The faint scent  of her perfume lingered, and he knew he still had time.

Running, she stopped to catch her breath, looked back and, for a moment, all was still.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Vignette #1

“I have my ways of getting things out of you,” she smirked coquettishly, bracing herself on the table with one arm propped on her hip. He was sure it would’ve been threatening, if not for her twirling a pencil beneath her fingers. They held eyes; an intense, silent battle of wills.

Both jumped as the pencil clattered to the ground. “Well,” she grinned sheepishly, “it was worth a try.”

He glared balefully at her, and made a show of beginning to speak. “Nah.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

Her playfulness quickly dissolved to anger. “Fine.” She slammed the file shut, “We’ll see if a few days in solitary confinement loosens your tongue.” As she stormed out of the room, he allowed himself a triumphant grin.

“Cut!”

She immediately slid onto the table, stretching exaggeratedly. “So, we still on for coffee at three? ‘Cause there’s this place that just opened about two blocks from here, and I heard it had really good latte, and-”

“Malia,” he cut her off gently, “of course we’re still on for coffee. I’ll even split the bill this time.”

“You better!” she retorted indignantly. “Anyways,...”

Neither noticed the amused gazes of the rest of the crew.

In case you were wondering, I’m thinking of starting a series of oneshots about these two. Let me know what you think.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Past Times, Passed Memories

I’ll never forget you, but I won’t remember this tomorrow. A walking contradiction, even though I can barely stand sometimes I think I could be better and then my feet hit the ground. Have I changed at all? The past seems so far away it could be another life; ephemeral, half-remembered things I’m not sure ever existed. This all seems so familiar I think I’ve been here before. I recognize you, stranger, even though we’ve never met. Your face, your aura make up an almost tangible memory floating at the edge of my mind. I’m sure we’ve been here before. I fear this  déjà vu will drive me mad. Wispy ghosts flicker in the corner of my vision. Wistful, I try to catch them, but they slip away as easily as yesterday I would’ve died for this but I don’t think it matters anymore. There’s no point in making your way through the unknown again and again have I been here before? I don’t remember. I don’t remember.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Last Dawn

'There's a difference,' he pauses, restarts. 'There's a difference between leaving and not staying.' 'But staying is better.' There is no question here, in her stained glass eyes, and his nod is sole courtesy. 'Then,' and his heart quivers with her voice 'Then show me the difference.' She looks unflinchingly into his flinty eyes and he sees the full extent of her brevity. So he who would've brought down the sun and moon if she asked it of him, anything to make her understand, ever so slowly, ever so patiently taught her the difference And she, his equal in more ways than one taught him the difference between love and base desire until the sun brought their parting.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Act of Love

'I love you.' Please don't. Don't do this to me, 'Cause I'm not sure I'm capable of being loved. And as I verbalize what's on my mind you, who'd been warm safety just moments ago, become searing heat. Please don't think this means I don't feel the same, I'm just not sure I know what love is. This intense desire for the comfort you provide, could I call it love? Even though I promised myself to never take part in this selfish act of passion, 'I love you.'

[tristitia-maestitia]

Halfway to Halfway Normal

Ice cream and silly dreams, rooftops and pit stops We promised to never change, so why'd it ever end? But, hey, I guess we all grew uo and here we are, halfway to halfway normal. Got through 'the best' and 'the worst' life had to offer, went through the 'phases'; learnt some, lost some. Spread our wings, learned to fly and here we are, halfway to halfway normal. Wished on shooting stars, squandered them all worked for what we wanted, reached our dreams the hard way. Learnt what was truly important and to smile anyway and here we are, halfway to halfway normal. Laughed with friends, made plans for the future said our goodbyes and moved on. Made new friends, learnt to live in the moment and here we are, halfway to halfway normal.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Life, Metaphorically

If life's a story, and you write your own, I should never write 'cause as the pages run on by, I find I can't remember the previous page. This false amnesia will be the end of me, 'cause in the Game of Life, I can never remember the rules. And I try to make my own melody to sing my life to, but I find myself humming bitterly familiar tunes. If I'm my own person, shouldn't I be able to build a life that's my own?

[tristitia-maestitia]

Spilled Ink

I know I said to just keep writing, but how is that possible when you don’t have any words left? You put your pen to paper but you just keep repeating the same lines, the same old clichés. I guess somewhere in the spilled ink, you’ll find something worth using. And remember, even if you’ve made no progress, all the time you’ve spent hasn’t gone to waste ‘cause there’s something you learnt in the process. So, if there’s one thing you should take away from this, it’s that ink is never spilled in vain.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Falling Leaves (Conversations Arc)

You look at me with those eyes and it breaks my heart 'cause I know you see someone who isn't there. What is it about me that drives people to believe there's something more? Don't show me that face and say those words 'cause I'm too short to reach your high expectations. And don't hold me to the same ideals as you 'cause they make no sense to me. Don't think those things 'cause we're on the same wavelength which means I can read your mind. And while that should make me happy, for some reason, it just makes things worse.

[tristitia-maestitia]

One Hundred Years

One hundred years from now your actions won't have changed a thing, so what's the point of doing your best? One hundred years from now even if everything's the same, that's no reason to just give up. 'One hundred years from now' is too far away to think about, so why not live in today? One hundred years from now is something no one can predict so there's no point in assuming the worst. One hundred years from now, if there's a chance your actions will change something, surely that's reason enough to work now?

[tristitia-maestitia]

Shameful Perseverance

Even if you're miles behind everyone, as long as you're still determined such a thing can't be called 'not trying', right? And pushing yourself on even your worst days, even if you end up hating yourself, such a thing can't be called 'weakness', right? Throwing yourself against a wall, no matter how many times you shatter, such a thing can't be called 'giving up', right? And falling down again and again, getting up and keeping moving each time, such a thing can't be called 'shameful', right? So why is it that I still find myself the way I am? 'Isn't it just you that feels that way about yourself?' you asked. My noncommittal reply should have told you all you needed to know.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Verselet #11

3 days was all it took. 3 days with no connection to her own self. On the fourth day, she gave in.

I know that occasionally, we all want to know what the future holds. I also know that it’s better to remain oblivious.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Stasis

Although the days pass by with an easy contentment, everything’s the same, so even though I’m growing everyday, nothing seems to change. Isn’t this okay, though, until I can stand on my own to feet? Even if you think I’m ready tp start walking, I don’t believe in myself that much just yet. Why can’t you let me stay here as long as I need? ‘Cause I think I’d be alright staying in this stasis.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Me and You (Conversations Arc)

There’s no progress between us two but we both know there’s no one to blame. If things don’t work out, we have to move on and accept things as they are.

I know there’s no one to blame but doesn’t that mean we stand up and fight for this? If you just take things as they come we’ll never get anywhere. Are you really willing to let this go just ‘cause it doesn’t come easy?

Me? You already know I’m pretty passive, but you? You’re a fighter, not a lover the way you’ve always been. Can you really blame me if I’m not as willful as you?

No, but if it’s something you want with a soul-deep desperation, you either take it for yourself or everything stays the same and we have to move on and accept things as they are.

FYI - The POVs switch every paragraph.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Warmth (to ?)

You hold me, and I know I’m protected ‘cause of the way your heat draws me in. I am the moth to your flame and I am empty, so empty until I bask in your light and feel whole again. I am the moon to your sun, and without you, everything gets dimmer ‘cause you’re a part of my world now. You rumble when you speak, and my whole universe shakes, but that’s okay ‘cause it’s proof this isn’t a dream. I am the moth to your flame, and I was empty, so empty until I basked in your light and felt whole again. So, thank you, for this warmth.

This marks the end of the ‘Spread the Love’ arc. Great job, team! P.S. - You could expect the occasional addition, but this is about it.

[tristitia-maestitia]

Dependencies

I love you, and I love what we have, but I'm a free spirit, the way I've always been. No matter how close we are now, I will always drift away, hating myself every minute of it. If you want me, tie me down and hold on tight, or I'll just float away. I always said I wanted to learn how to fly and now I taste the bitter irony, 'cause what else could this be? I want you, and I want what we have, but since when do people get what they want? The world's not a cruel place, I've just never fought for anything before. I need you, and I need what we have, so help me keep us together long enough for this to become permanent.