My personal hell.

You.

Matters of urgency.

I can feel the pressure,
Words just waiting to burst,
To flow out and tell you how much love 
I’ve been holding in for so long.
I know if I don’t
I will lose my mind or whatever that’s left of it.

I’m screaming at the top of my voice,
I’m whispering it to you,
I’m writing it down and hoping it will find you,
Somewhere in the middle of a rainy night,
Somewhere in the middle of a hectic work day.

Come find me, 
I’m right here.
Come find me,
I haven’t moved.

Are you there?
Open the door.
Are you there?
Why won’t you say hello?

Things that matter.

I write about things that matter,
Like the earthworms that step out of the planters and unintentionally die,
Despite all my attempts to save them,
Or that silly girl Daisy Mae, who is actually a beautiful black raven with the most distinct caw.
I rarely write about rains because that’s what everyone does.
But no one is willing to write about the serene sadness that grows within,
When the first drop of water hits your face.
No, not me.

For I write about things that matter,
The pigeon cooing outside my window, looking for food for its babies,
The bougainvillea that fought against all odds to survive,
The greatest metaphor for life right there in my balcony.
So believe me when I say that I write about things that matter,
Because I inadvertently end up writing about you.

Walls.

It’s a game we like to play,
One that frustrates us both.
It’s worse than push and pull,
Or tug-of-war.
In our game, you build walls
and I spend the rest of eternity trying to break them.
Those are the rules.
They weren’t written anywhere,
Neither did anyone spell them out for us.
But you just build walls.
Some days you let me scale them,
Even opening a small window so that I can peek in.
But the moment it starts getting real,
You shut it, bolt it and nail it.
And then I have to start again.
What they didn’t tell us is that
One day you will get tired of building these walls,
But I would’ve given up hope long before that.
There are no victors here,
Just two people who love each other,
But can’t and won’t do a thing about it.

Love and longing

I miss you and I love you,

Like I miss blue skies on a bright summer day,

Where the clouds are all puffy and happy.

Like that time we were laughing for no particular reason,

But then we stopped, only to continue later.

I miss you and love you,

Like I love the bougainvillea that grows out of control, wild and free.

Never to be tamed or held back.

Always leaving behind beautiful pink leaves. But if you get too close you’ll get pricked,

By thorns that remind me of the guard I put up, saving myself from hurt.

Not realising that the walls I built were never many to be scaled,

But broken down by you.

And you didn’t know this, so I’m writing to say that

I miss you and I love you

Very, very much.