laughter that tastes like warmth in winter
and sings to butterflies to my ears
infectious is the break of a smile that does more than kisses my insides and soul

when the sun streams through, and reflects from your eyes. there is a look of softness i will always remember. the crinkle lines on the side of your eyes and a smile i'd love to keep

for more than just a while.

an evening

under umbrellas, the rain keeps company

this is where we should have been

this is where i want to be

and here you are, 

a wonderful wanderer

finding warmth from the unknown

in spite of it all

Gerasa

In Gerasa of Antiquity, the crossroads of valleys imprinted with footprints of Alexander the Great. Broken pieces of cobblestone steps, in an oval plaza once held promises of prosperity. Yet, the most humble and arrogant of men know - that promises are often made to be broken. With every pillar in my view, once intricately carved with Hellenistic perfection each stands fractured now, distressing lines of frailty.

I can only wonder whose footsteps I trail, centuries after. And imagine the realm of Greek and Roman empires preceding me. Temples of Jupiter and Diana overlooking the remnants of a kingdom - a display of pride once lingered. What kind frailty would Jupiter feel, to once be the King of Gods, but he now no longer reigns? And what sorrow would Diana feel, to summon the moon over this sight of eternal silence, dusted and deserted dynasty?

And I, the solo wanderer unkempt with my imagination. Am left to believe that everything is but a dream, and everything has been created to be left and remain a dream. 

The story of my laugh-lines

Gravity sinks hearts. And here we are, across tables, unable to speak of what we think about. Sights and sighs, I can feel you hold your breath as I inhale to express words we both saw coming. They came in a direction, like a train going at full speed - but we are on the tracks. And we stood hand in hand. This is a separation of degrees colder than the solstice of winter. But sighed you did, and exhaled as the coldness surrounded us. As we both begin in isolation. Isolated but not strangers.

I am convinced we can never be strangers. I have learned over, and over again. Tenfolds over. That the lines have been drawn on my skin, under my eyes like convincing wrinkles - we can never be strangers. And maybe the same line on my right cheek exposed when I smile, reveal my every attempt to find humour in it all. I have learned to find wit in the wrong of all spaces. 

Salud

Here is to friendships
that test the limit of our capabilities,
to reveal a side
we never thought existed in us.

Here is to those in our lives
who see thing in us we do not see.
And made us believe in ourselves again...
when we never thought it possible

Pinned

trace your finger on my palm,
like you would with a map
the destination is known -
unspoken for, and not alone

the nature of being

that even symbiosis is Greek for telling
of two very different livings
but in such close company,
and such sweet intimate dependencies

it is yearning whispered by winds, that moves the sea
into waves like heartbeat
to let the seaweed underneath
dance in a choreography, like memory
of longing, between distances of shores

of growth, and complementary
to intertwine romantically like reefs
that but stubbornly remain to grow individually
in depths of blue

Two Rivers

Maybe my mind is a minefield, but somehow the crickets soothingly sound. Somehow, in the corner of this canvas ground, in this territory of familiarity. I feel slightly found. As if I am picking up again pieces of nostalgia worth six years of stitches healed.

Many nights ago, this was where sleepless nights began. I remember stolen glances across fires, where kamikaze bugs flew - between subtle guitar tunes and secret smiles. And sneaking to the beach when everybody was asleep to catch the sky full of millions of stars light up the lake where two rivers merge. We used to walk in the dark intimately giggling at sweet nothings. And holding hands have never felt sweeter. I remember conspiring lame excuses to find yours, during hikes and rock climbs. Even under picnic tables our fingers clandestinely intertwined,  thinking nobody would notice. But they probably knew, anyway.

We were so young. And I have never felt so much more in love as I did then. With how I was with my life and even more, with you.

...yet here I am, six years too late. As I lay on this canvas ground, listening to the wind whispering memories the trees were once privy to witnessing. The same unceded territory of familiarity. Little did I know then, that this is how it would unfold.

i find so much said in silences

and so much comfort in familiarity

no matter - predictability in uncharted territory can bring 

such a wonderful feeling.

ever known

walk with me, but do not wait

maybe winter has lost its bloom

maybe you decided to leave it all too soon

you can ask me anything

and know i will not fall apart

somehow my insides have folded

and i am convinced

there is nothing left to tear

when i have lost   

the day i found it all in you

in and over again

i miss it all
& sometimes i wonder if you did too.

but i am full of doubts.
time is never on our side,
and i am becoming the part that don't last
maybe i let go too soon.

In signs of nothing but attempted understanding I tried to make sense of everything - when we purposefully put ourselves in the positions of in betweens. & somehow here we go again, in this territory of unknown feelings uncharted with meanings. 

It is a harder sense of loss;

To lose something you doubt you even had in the first place

Everything is eventual

But sometimes,

Interpretations are illusory

at the altar of the world, my words decide to falter

dust

here is a dust of feelings in my palm

i will pocket it knowing 

that it exists again

here is to longing - and wanting, and missing
there is withdrawal tucked in the corner sheets of my bed

the only thing i had left was your hand to hold on to

for what felt like the shortest way home.