Broken.

“I’m always tired, but never of you” – Gnash

She smelled of sweet syrups and fresh roses, of expensive perfume and cheap thrills, of long drives and messy hair.

I miss her. I miss the songs that we sang at the top of our voices, the pictures that we clicked with our dog between us, and just sleeping all day long. I miss looking into her sleepy eyes with hot chocolate in our hands and just love in our hearts. I miss not having to miss her because I knew she wouldn’t leave me, and I miss not being alone late at night or early in the day, whenever I had a breakdown. You see, that’s why love is so unfairly criticized, because it can end friendships some times. I miss her being with me, but I don’t know if I miss us. There’s nothing to miss, so even when I try, I just fall apart with no memories to hold onto.

I dial her number every day just to hear the familiar ring of her cell, but I cut every time just after she says hello, cause I don’t know what I should say. I fear that once I start talking, there’ll be no stopping me and I’ll just go on about how I loved her and she never knew. I’d use words like waves against the walls of her heart, and I know she would try to calm me down, but anything she could say would only be like the howling wind acting as a fuel for the forest fire that my heart is in. I fear that I’ll tell her I am in pain because of something that we never became, of something that she doesn’t even know of.

I play the same songs on the radio in my car every day, and drive by the coffee shops, and flower stalls and empty streets that often call out for our presence. The receptionist at Walmart asks me why I haven’t been shopping late at night anymore, and the food vendors ask me why I look so dull. Little do they know, that I miss her muddy slippers and soft hands, and that I have lost her forever.

I miss her smell.

She smelled of sweet syrups and fresh roses, of expensive perfume and cheap thrills, of long drives and messy hair.


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To my life-savers.

Dear F.R.I.E.N.D.S,

It’s been a long time, almost 14 years now. How have you managed to shape the lives of not just yourself, but millions others so wonderfully? I don’t know how many times someone has said this to all six of you, and yet I’ll say this one more time : Thank you for everything.

Monica : Welcome to the real world! It sucks. You’re gonna love it!
Your love life was a mess. Ethan, seriously? But you held on, and gave every other guy a chance to be your prince charming. You’ve had your heart broken oh so many times, and you’ve come out smiling every time. Life has thrown so many lemons at you, but you, being the amazing chef that you are, have always made the tastiest lemonades. You’ve made being organized fun for all of us. Although once in a while, I do leave glasses without coasters on the table. I am sorry?

Rachel : Isn’t that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?
While we were all waiting for the knock on the door, you chose the window and just completely changed your life. Dreams were your forte. I don’t know how many people thought you were crazy to do something that you love, but I do know you’ve made following dreams easier for us. You’ve shown us what we need to know the most, that it will not be easy, and that we will make it. You’ve shown us that you’d choose your lobster over the fashion capital, and what could be more important?

Phoebe : They don’t know that we know they know we know.
It really is okay to be weird, huh. Your songs alone are life changing, no wonder the kids loved you. From living on the streets, to having one of the prettiest weddings, it has been amazing, hasn’t it? Who would’ve guessed you didn’t even have a pla? You have been the craziest undercover there has ever been, Regina. To be as honest as you, it takes much more than just balls. And to be a believer, it takes just a little faith. And that’s what you’ve given us. Balls, faith, and the confidence to be real.

Chandler : What must it be like not to be crippled by fear and self-loathing?
Time and time again, you’ve brought out the scared side of me out into this world, and made him laugh so hard, he almost choked to death. You would be the king of Facebook and Twitter, had you not shifted to the suburbs, and disappeared. You’ve had a crappy childhood, two mothers and a defense mechanism, and you’ve used these to enjoy all of life (except some festivals) to the fullest. You’ve found your soulmate in a friend, and you have found a brother in your roommate. Could it BE any better?

Joey : How you doin?
I don’t share food, either. And I love girls on bread. That’s the best kind of sandwich, right? You weren’t the dumb one. You were the best bud. Friendship has always been a priority for you, and you’ve given us goals. You’ve told us that being an out-of-work actor is much better than being something that you don’t love. You’ve told us that it’s okay to eat everything in the fridge because it broke down. You’ve told us it is okay to be a kid in this world. What haven’t you done for a friend? I wish there were more people like you, Tribbiani.

Ross : I don’t want to get over her. I want to be with her.
I relate to you most of all. Love hasn’t really been easy for you. You tried once, and your wife became a lesbian. Tried again, but said the wrong name. And then again, when you were drunk. Three failed marriages, and you’re still the reason why people believe they will find their lobster. You loved dinosaurs, and so you followed your passion. Every time you spoke about the Jurassic period, I promise I did not fall asleep. You see, I fell in love in ninth grade too, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Let’s hope for the best?

Thank you. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I’ve found it now, all because of the six of you. The three years I have been away from what I felt was my home, would be unbearable, but you were there. Life isn’t all good, or all bad. It’s the right proportion of both. But yes, Monica. I do love it.

Yours,

Just another fan.


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It’s okay.

Go ahead.
Stand taller than everyone else,
Fall apart.
Feel afraid, or
Alone
Among smiles of
Chapped lips
And wrinkled eyes.
Speak out
Tell us what’s right,
Share your dreams
Nightmares, or
stories of your petty fights.
Praise every other heart that still beats,
And love the music
Pumping through your veins,
Just like it is,
Through every one else’s.
Let your hands fumble on the knob,
And your heart break.
Feel dead,
And then come back to life.
Smile,
Frown.
Be happy at times.
And at times don’t be afraid
to drown.
Do it all, love.
It is okay.


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Painting.

Black skies
With greying clouds of hair
Plastered to the sand dunes
That stretch down to where
two thick and furry cats lay.
Their tails spread graciously,
Just above the eyes.
Two distant planets,
Beyond understanding, and reach
Sparkle like a star under
The tails of the beings.
The tails touch each other,
At weird crooks and crevices,
So oddly
That surely they’ve been plucked.
Under the stars,
are heavy brown valleys,
With stories untold
awaiting poets.
The valleys vanish as a tall moutain
Strangely made of sand,
Stands right in the center
Of this very beautiful land.
It has no trees, or any signs of habitat.
To descend the mountain,
It would take a steep fall
But the landing will be soft
On the dying greyish-black bushes.
Pink lips,
and rivers inside
Will be where you’ve covered
The journey.
As you look around,
At the sand-paper landscapes,
You’ll be in awe,
For it was just a face
That you saw.


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Whisky flowers.

“She’s at peace, and yet somehow on fire.” – Samantha King

She’s the flower you give to your Valentine. She’s gorgeous and she just always smells so good?
She’s the scotch whisky you drink at a meeting. She makes you feel alive, and makes you forget everything wrong with you and this world.
She’s the autumn tree with golden leaves. She makes the world more beautiful than you could have imagined.
She’s a Polaroid. You just want to look at her forever even though she isn’t perfect. She makes you love photographs.
She’s the Henley that you wear on a date. She makes you look good, and keeps you warm inside.
She’s the mirror that you so often stare at. She helps you find mistakes that your own eyes couldn’t see.
She’s the star. She lights up, turns into fire and brings the world moments of ecstasy.
She is fire. She will burn you down, or warm you up. She will light the city on fire and have no difficulty whatsoever.
She’s a sword. The same sword your frantic eyeballs and sweaty palms try to find before the dragon wipes your existence.
She is the loyalty, grit and grace you need to be a man.
She’s the queen that has nurtured the deserving and cut in half the men who has tried to harm her or her people.
She is the cherry wine you drink with so much haste, not realizing it might be one of the finest you could ever have.
She is the knight beneath the heavy armors and metal helms. She fights monsters and demons and men. She cannot be defeated.
She is the beauty and the beast.
She is the #MeToo that should have shaken your existence, and filled you with shame. She makes you look good. What do you do?


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