Tag Archives: illusion

Let it be

Let our meetings be awkward,
It is not like the familiarity,
Would make any difference,
It is not like I could stop myself,
From stretching a grin like a Cheshire Cat,
When I see you on the streets,
Forgetting for a while,
That you are someone I could only have,
In fictitious 3 am dreams.

Let our fingers brush,
When the deck slides across the table,
And I will force the ends of my smile,
To uncurl itself painfully,
Cursing under my breath,
Because it felt like untainted bliss,
Cursing, as I look at you,
To deceive everyone in the room,
And partly, to deceive myself.

Let this slowly die,
Even if it drags a part of me along,
Even if it takes all the time in the world,
Because I should be revived,
Shiny and new with a few polished cracks,
Ready to be auctioned to needy beings,
As a vintage piece of soul,
Weathered and worn,
With value higher than it ever was before.

Let months pass,
And I will still be across the road,
No longer waiting, no longer thinking,
But I can’t say the same about feeling.


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In the window 43 degrees from her left,
A boy whose lips shape like curses,
And two crescent like craters guarding his smile,
Lies on his bed unknowing,
While she stared out, hoping he would notice,
How she stopped sending her heart his way,
But he did not.

5151 miles away under the blazing heat,
A sun kissed boy waits silently,
For the slow change of heart,
In his partner in crime,
Who he wished could be his partner,
In more than just that.

Somewhere on the equator,
He breathes in the suffocating humid air,
The tight strangle that choked him since 10,
Has been released when he told her,
Things that he should have just kept inside,
Because now she is choking him with silence,
And that feeling is 10 times worse.

She swallows the frustration down, making her nauseous,
Wondering how it is unfair that she could not love,
The people who would appreciate it most,
But instead she throws all she has,
Feeding the drain of indifference,
Wasted in the sewers of unrequited feelings.

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37 steps to 25

You are exactly 37 steps away,
And I have been walking for hours
My heels sore and my feet an angry mess of blisters
Even when I’m at your door, you are too far away
I could never reach you, not months ago and not even now

You are literally a grasp away
And my mind has been trying to make me reach out and hold you
Because if I could not bear you in my heart
Then I guess just the feel of you under my touch
For a few unblinking moments would do
And that is a really sad compensation

You are so close yet still so far
I could see how the shadows deepen the crescents of your smile
Have your shoulders inches from mine
And I know this won’t happen again
So I close my eyes and try to paint this view on the walls of my mind
But in time, my blinks slowly wash it away
Leaving dripping stains of what could have been

You are my thoughts at 25 to 2
The reason my desk faces the window
The person who greets me last in every occasion I could remember
The dreadful gloom creeping over my wishful thinking
And I am blaming you for all this exaggerated feelings
Because blaming myself would make this less of a tragedy

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I guess it has always been inevitable,
That I was just buying time
Feeding illusions of bliss as long as I could
Stalling reality from winning the war of thoughts

No, it was not a blow
It was more of a seep
The curling of hollowness as it creeps closer
I was a ballerina dancing sur les pointes
Dodging the internal pain of rejection

This flesh is a little more broken that it should be
Then I guess I must have fallen harder than I thought
Time spent on contradicting
Feelings that should have been regarded
I’m a beggar searching for gold in specks of dust

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5 Days of Illusions (Day 1)

1st day

Never could I imagine that I would find anything substantial, at this place, this time, and especially with people who I’m not sure exist in real life. This filth filled place, with no trace of innocence and purity. People roaming, searching for something to fuel their desire even if it means baring themselves to complete strangers.  For a period of time, I was one of them, feeding my soul with the scraps of what I thought was beneficial.

I ventured out to a novel area, one with a lower density of people. It was peaceful; although it was less fulfilling I know that being fulfilled is nothing but an illusion. That even when you’re satisfied with what you get, there’s always an echo in your brain telling you again and again you could have more, that you deserve more. More can be destructive.

Exchange of heys and hellos and questions to break the silence between us. I didn’t have any expectations but even if I had you would have no difficulties exceeding all of them. There wasn’t any awkwardness in the air. You spoke your name like you trusted me and I like to believe that you did. As smooth as the ripple of the waters was our conversation but the end had to come and I wanted to leave being unknown. To enjoy fully the moment we had and keep it safe in a dusty corner of my heart. To not know who you are and not meet you again.

The first day was always the best. The first day was always filled with hopes and dreams that everything is possible. And with every passing day, reality will prove that dreams are often impossible and that hopes will only leave you with disappointment.

You asked me what was the point of meeting a person and not continue knowing them? I explained how I love the idea of uncertainty and the feeling of trusting someone you don’t know, revealing yourself without being judged for being who you are. I never knew until now if you understood how I felt.

A guy has a gun pointed at your head. It’s for certain that he’s going to shoot you but you just don’t know when. ‘What would you do?’ you asked. Would you wait for him to choose the time for you or would you want him to shoot you there and then? You would beg for him to pull the trigger, you said. To end your life right that second because you do not want to wait for something that’s already known. As for me, I choose to wait and listen to every ticking of the clock I still had. You should know that I have thing for things that are uncertain, death included.

It couldn’t be any more obvious how different we were. We’re the complete opposite. You were the bright shining star, burning away for the world to admire, while I was the background light, people often look past. But I didn’t care, just like I didn’t care who you were, where you’re from or how you look like. I told myself that we’re friends, and with friends those details are all unimportant.

‘Are you going to pull the trigger and kill me?’ you asked when I told you I had to leave. At that moment, it hit me and I realised you didn’t ask me about the killer just to keep the conversation running. You knew I had the power to leave you with nothing of me, and you didn’t want that. And to be honest, I didn’t want that either. Talking to you was easy and it felt like you’re giving me a vibe I couldn’t explain.

My ego was adamant but the power of persuasion you had was winning the battle. My ego faltered and I gave in. Something I did quite often with you. Your e-mail amused me but I never knew the meaning behind it. Just like all the other questions I never had the chance to ask, it is left at the back of my brain waiting to be decayed and forever forgotten.

That night there was a new email in my inbox.

That night I found out that it wasn’t a vibe you were giving out. And I didn’t have to confirm it with you. Why you never said it out loud, I don’t know. Maybe you knew you were in a position where this couldn’t happen or maybe you didn’t want to scare me but it was clear,

You desired something more than uncommitted conversations, but I couldn’t say the same.

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