The Wanderess

Of loving loud and other mysteries. 

[wanderessoflove]

Telephonic Letters for a Confession

Hello?

Hey, hi.

Um, what are you doing today?

Have I told you about this funny thing. Where in every moment of euphoria, I remember you. I then proceed to thank you, all in my head of course. I don't want to think what I would've been like, turned out to be like, if I hadn't met you. It stirred something in me. The want to block out the white noise, and pretend to be that person I become when mulling over the idea of us. I see myself as a this little insignificant speck, without a voice, without a body, with just memories of the places I've been and things I've done. A database of moments created by your voice, flashes of you driving your car around at night, of your hands cutting through air to explain something. In your euphoria, I am a thriving idea. A speck of an idea yet to grow limbs, spin flesh, become somebody.

It's the weekend, I'm hanging with some friends.

Oh, I see.

Why, what's up?

I never walked in a straight line when walking up to you. I turned around in the corridor that only led up to a dead end. I turned pages left instead of right. I wholly clenched myself shut in proximity with you. It's funny, for someone who has always been on my mind and pushed me to discover myself, I have never made you feel it. I am proud of it as much as I am scared and shy of it. The boldness of my step, stems from knowing you, but these steps only take me farther from you. I had wanted it like this. Me.

I want to meet you. I think I'm ready.

Ready, for?

Can you see me tonight. It's important.

At a petrol bunk you asked me what I've always wanted to do but never could get myself to do. Frankly, till you asked me I never had an answer. I said 'skinny dipping' because in my head that was wild. We agreed pantless was the way to go. How you'll probably take a little studio out in the city and I can come by anytime to be pantless. Now there's a list. One that I strike off every time I replay this conversation of things I've never got myself to do.

I could, but what's this about?

Ah, it's like a confession. I could be crazy.

Oh yeah? Well, that's subjective.

I skinny dipped in the mountains of Sri Lanka, I remembered you. I bathed under the stars and shook my head because I should've brought you here with me. Pantless, worry-less, just some euphoria. After the trip, I came home to a studio in the city. I roamed around pantless in that space I made home, not you. Had I been living off things you liked, had done, and wanted to do? Maybe, call me crazy.

It is. In my head, it qualifies.

Your head and mine? They're ends of a spectrum.

I shuffled apps and got to my playlist. There was Mayer. Wasn't a true Mayer girl until Olivia happened. Until you played it in your car that night, the same night as the petrol bunk conversation. I now carry a Cohen book in my big leather bag. I had willed the universe so many times into bringing it to me, because you've been hunting it down. Kochi, Pondi, Lanka, Canada. Bookstores have my number in case they come by a copy of the Energy of Slaves. Yet when I got the book, I didn't give it to you. I reminded myself that we weren't on speaking terms.

Meet me. It's important.

Can I tell you a little later?

*Pause*

Sure, no worries.

[wanderessoflove]

Skinny Dipping Secrets

Moonlight. Makes for perfect skinny dipping secrets.

Now it's said drowning for a second more than seventeen

In this pool of Kabeiro, will paint your eyes a dark green

And give your hair, a touch of glory, a shining deepness.

Remember, when you plunge one foot in,

to blow out the hurricane lamp, even if its tame.

This you must not fail to do, swear by every kin

Lest the blue moon falters at the orange flame

Yes, it goes like this: No moon, no boon.

No water goddess and her entourage of sprites.

No sprites, no gold dust that mermaids surface for

And no mermaids, who will tip your scales of beauty then?

Their demand for finery draped by men, beats me

So make sure yours was first donned by your lover,

Before you shed old skin and stand waist-deep and under cover

Say 'Kabeiro' thrice, and don't dare look at the willow tree.

Because sprites are shy, and Kabeiro even more so,

Legend has it she was just a pretty nymph before,

Before a worthy yet lustful human shamed her into the sea below

Where she arose a goddess, plotting revenge through his million whores.

She still goes about granting her stone-cold emerald eyes,

And that's why you're here my dear, in the pool of her brilliance

You've been wronged by his lineage and she's overhead those lies

Now, you've to be reborn just like her, beauty but without the innocence

Why some stay drowned with Kabeiro I know not,

But the Eighteenth second is a second chance

Now if your heart's healing and pink instead of black like an old rot

Then you'd be wise darling, to head on back. Not a single glance.

[wanderessoflove]

Not this one

"No heart, not this one."

I am sorry as I say the words,

But somehow things got absurd

And his void blocked out my sun.

Somehow I was drenched again,

Lost, confused and in vain

Wondering how I'm back in this place,

The same heartbreak with another face.

"No heart, stand tall now."

I plead as the dead weight drags me down

Along with every memory of us in this town

I need to straighten up, someone tell me how.

Tell me there's more to live for,

Many moons and palm trees waiting for me,

A lighthouse with my name just by the sea.

And that the one I can call my own won't be too far.

"No heart, don't burn out."

We've done this before, we are the phoenix

Rise in love, with love and find your fix

Dance away your pain, and your every doubt.

[wanderessoflove]

Pomegranate Red

The corners of my eyes, pomegranate red.

It was a memory that did this, something you had said.

In the air, hung a sweetness two drops less sweet

Stretching out this heart for more in that summer heat.

Liquid rays had bounced off your brown eyes,

And I searched them for the small white lies.

But our love had bloomed soon, dusky pink and pure

Spilling over, trickling deep, settling in every smile I wore.

I thought "This time around, firmer feet in the messy ground

Two set toiletries, and an echo for my every sound"

I pulled you in close, never to let go

All in the same honey-colored world I know.

Then envy took over like poison ivy

I guess you didn't want me to see

All the worlds you carried, tangled and twisted

Enough to clot, choke, and cut me off till we no longer existed.

My almost love, withering in the autumn sun,

I wish you knew that I'm not one to run

I wish I wasn't just another season

But my harvested heart wasn't enough a reason

Now my fields will be tilled again,

Seeds planted in black soil, in rows of ten

In hope that this time I can nurture my own garden

Without his hand, without any men.

[wanderessoflove]

A rebellion of post-its

I saw the post-its fall from the wall. A smiled spilled out, without reason, in sadness like it does sometimes. They try too.

To hold on by virtue of their nature. To not disappoint and carry the scribbled scripts like secrets that needed reminding they existed in the first place. But now they were failing. No, falling with a taste of freedom. Giving in to gravity. Forgetting a pointless purpose that others stamped on them.

Oh my, look at the sun. It sets, it rises; both have started looking the same. So have those plastic bags stuck to logs in once-pristine waters. Those pretty wrapping papers stuffed heartlessly into the muck of actual garbage, of decay. And wires -- knotting themselves over in hope of staying unplugged, making a mess of themselves. Its not a beautiful mess anymore. Its just chaos.

Loud, unforgiving, inescapable chaos. The kind of dark shadow that lurks in the wild even if the sun is shining down brutally bright. It's always there, tinting my tiny glories. I'm beginning to believe in this stronger. I'm seeing that there's no strength in trying to be strong -- either you are, or you're not. Trying is as good as faking. Asking for this chaos to set in your moment of doubt, or second guessing, of weakness, of confusion. How do I know?

Because I paused a second too long after I tripped. And the rot set in me like the burning sun. It didn't matter if I found the cool shade right after, if I slathered sunscreen on my scorched skin. The seemingly harmless sun brought those resident shadows that did all this damage. And now it festers inside. Making me puppet with my nerves at the will of its mercy.

The chaos birthed by confusion. Its deceptive shadow. That reckless spy of a sun. Those double-dead plastic bags. These naive wrapping papers. The writhing wires. A rebellion of post-its. And my heart, last in the order of things that hold on.

[wanderessoflove]

Name

I want to be your favorite color.

I want you to spot me in a rack of clothes,

Search me in the skies,

And say my name when people want to know you.

[wanderessoflove]

Catching rays.

[wanderessoflove]

Shine in your own light.

[wanderessoflove]

'Cause honey I'll come get my things, but I can't let go.

Green Light, Lorde

[wanderessoflove]

Awake

It’s strange. I woke up today and suddenly your name meant so much more.

[wanderessoflove]

I swear if I sail into the horizon, I'll find him and finally, me.

[wanderessoflove]

Black Hats

If she was magic, I was no more than red scarves, black hats, and tarot cards. I could love her like the air I breathe, but only manage to scratch the surface of the plane she exists in.

[wanderessoflove]

Lost love is still love.

Mitch Albom

[wanderessoflove]

[wanderessoflove]

Sacred Silence

The lift failed to work. Again. As she made her way up the stairs the power gave out, throwing her heart into full throttle. She gave it a few minutes. Her eyes adjusted to the dark but her heart didn't slow down.

There at the top of the flight, just two stairs away, was a man. She could make out a faint outline of his sturdy cut and his hair. Something glinted in the dark, probably his watch. His unexpected appearance triggered clumsiness and she dropped her bags gasping.

He bridged the distance between them and reached out in the dark for the bags. Their hands brushed but ever so faintly. They stood not a second more as the whir of the generator cracked the sacred silence.

And just as though the same thought crossed both their minds, they instantly parted - him down the stairs and her up. Almost as if they wanted their dark encounter to retain its mystery.  Almost as if they didn't want to see each other too clearly.

The lights were back on.

[wanderessoflove]

Nostalgia

Silence hung between them as they eyed each other carefully. There was more happening in their minds; each detail was mending memories, refreshing moments long forgotten. As they finished taking in the older versions of themselves, a smile crept up. Years had flown but here they were - holding hands, holding back tears.

[wanderessoflove]

Stardust

When I write of stardust and magic,  Of lilies and fuzzy fireflies,  Know that you’re at the heart of it all.  Paper’s mine, ink’s mine,  But you’re everything else.