Of Me and You.

An Unlikely Letter of Love

My love,

How fortune is it that we live under the same sky, and stare at the same moon?
Breathe the same air, feel the same sand..

My love, how absolutely in love am I, with you, that I overlook every fault, every harsh word?
I set fires, I burn. I keep warm, I love.

Giving all that is me, everything. Eyes piercing the shuttered soul; keeping with present pleasures, giving up.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
Love the same music, sway to the same rhythms..

A light dusting of sugar, a bitter-sweet kiss. A swirl, a lift, a twirl and dip.
I jump, I fly. I hug, I love.

I’ll see you sometime, the night said to the day. A flutter of wings and a retreating dawn; a dusk a time to sigh.
My love, how I have yearned…

My love, causing chaos; my dancing little imp – wreaking havoc in my soul.
A pinch, a tuck; a feathery caress.
I kill, I save. I melt, I love.

Floating, dancing you made your way in, my love. I cried; danced.
Beneath flowery nothingness I lived. Together we swayed, we lay.

I saw, I created, I spun fairy-tales; I loved.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?

Raising hand, intertwined fingers, sweet words, shared dreams.
So far, yet so near; we stood time-zones apart – worlds apart.

Candlelight, wine and table so neat; made of dreams – fragile as ever.
A thought away, teasingly you stand. So close, and yet so far.
Tears flow like rivers. The world runs dry, the suns don’t set. The beauty in it all fades to dust.
As we meet, colours bloom, butterflies soar, eagles dive. The oceans rock; it’s all pre-destined.
I drew, I spun. I loved and loved.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
Flimsy, veiled vision it was. Cracked mirrors, music off-beat.
You left; a bleeding, sewn-together version of me. A crevasse, a chasm; a valley in her heart. Filled to the brim with sweet-smelling flowers; now washing away, wasted in the flood.
Passion mingled with love - flowed down the drain. Time wasted, patience gone.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
My love, chaos-causing demon…
Of all the things you could have had, you wanted the pieces of a broken heart.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
Breathe the same air, feel the same sand…
How fortunate, indeed.

And, Love. (Not a reprise.)

To those who haven't read And, Love; here's a link! 

And, Love.
(I promise, this is just as nice as that one. xD )

When you love someone so completely, that you overlook their every fault, lose your inhibitions and just give in; tell me, is there nothing holding you back?

Have you been in love with the way they smile? The way they look at something?
The way the world just seems a pretty place when they're there?

When they give in to you, they say it's the best feeling in the world, and that there's nothing that can ever go wrong again.

You can't know where your thought ends and theirs begins, their ideas are yours and your emotions, theirs, they say.
"We fit like a jigsaw.. so marvelously perfect!" , she said.
"He's so perfect.. so fucking perfect!", she said. 

She said she loved him.. and then she said she feared him. The absolute power he had over her - the way she knew he could break her if he wanted, by just drifting away. 

She started fearing his absence.
"I live life with love.", she said.
"I live life with love and fear.", she said.

"I live life with fear and love..", she said.

There'll be days you'll hurt for no reason, I said.
Don't give in, I said.
They'll leave, no matter what, because they can't be owned. If they were yours, you wouldn't have wanted them.

The way she looked at him was reason enough to believe she loved it. She fell in love with love. It gave her a high, she said.

"He's life itself.", she said.

Your life, yes. 

And then, after they drift away, you realize they were never yours to begin with. Couldn't be yours. They were bewitched by their life's goals.. Their life was something else, and they could never live with you.

They aren't yours. They weren't yours. Not your life. Not yours. Ever.
You live. You love, and then you fear absence. You fear replacement. You fear your dispensability, and then you live again.

A/N: Well, for starters, parts of the above piece were fiction. Not entirely, but which part, I'll leave you to figure out.
Written for a friend I grew to love, despite her absolute doormat-ness. (kidding, please.)

And yeah. I've not changed my stance on love, have I?
Oh God. *rolls eyes*

The Cat with the Broken Tail

One day, a little girl of sixteen was all alone at home.

She wanted a screwdriver to open up some gadget.

She stood on tiptoe to reach up to the shelf.

She spread her fingers in search of the screwdriver.

Her hand found something. Something pricked her hand.

When she drew her hand back again, it was bleeding.

Upon further inspection, she found that a little porcelain toy cat’s tail had scratched her fingers. Deep.

She pulled out the cat with the broken tail and stared at it.

I was a gift from her old, old friend. She sat down on the ground and let a single tear escape. 

Heat.

I believe that heat is the answer to almost all things in the world.
I will agree, though, that a burn can not be treated with fire, metaphorically speaking, of course. But isn't the cold just absence of heat? 

Men are fond of playing with fire, knowing it will burn them. Our world is divided into two kinds of people, in my view. Ones that jump into the fire without a care in the world – the ones who think they know what they will do, once out the fire, and Two, people who stand on the edge and peer down into the fire, thinking of ways to avoid it all together.

What I do, is think of ice and step in, knee deep into my personal fire.

There is almost nothing a warm hug can not cure. People can some times just break down during a hug. They might be the big, scary “I’m the tough one” outside, but when they’re truly alone, only a warm hug can do any thing worthwhile.
There is no such thing as fake warmth. Anger, lust, love; all of them can be faked – and easily enough, yes. But real, true warmth that comes from one’s heart can never be faked.
There are people who might think different. Heat can sometimes, they say worsen things. Ice cream melts in the heat. But you enjoy one only because of the heat.

Heat, is but a higher degree of warmth. While some might oppose everything I’ve said about warmth and heat, I still believe that heat is comforting and can almost always cure a broken heart…

A/N.:
Taking/took a break from the challenges. I just don't feel like typing them up.
I'll edit this one later. For sure. There's so much more I have to say, but my head isn't letting me form coherent sentences. Too tired. Later.