amor fati

secretely

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11/29/2017

i miss you.

in all those lines i have written to you, I breathed in my ‘i love you’s between those lines. i’m flawed and i haven’t found the right words to say, but i’m neatly tucking them all in an envelop, my all those disorganized ‘i love you’s…..

questions blooming like flowers on my fingertips and my heart keeps racking up these frequent flyer miles to your heart, and i keep biting my lip so hard that it turned raw. i tried to bury my sadness among my ribs; curse word prayers manipulating truth and remembering how to say ‘yes’. it would be a valentine’s day when i see you again as i await to whisper hello; ghosting the ache of space between us, and waiting to tell you my love stories as war anecdotes while holding you so close i could crawl inside your skin, and deep into your bones, and i will be happy.

but here in the gaping spaces that separate each of my fingers, there’s potential. in the crook of my neck and in the soft swell of my breasts and in the glistening pout of my lips and in the curve of my hips there’s potential. and there’s a soft promise across my collarbones that one day some one would kiss my words, touch my lips to music notes and memorize my body like a cartographer, so i should really stop wishing for it and just wait… to hold hands with you like old friends. it’s so easy to feel lonely and unlovable in gray winter times but here’s a potential too to find beauty in my solitude.

i wish i were seeing you tomorrow or that we made some plans. i wish you to be my valentine or that you were mine.

but this is all a secret.

your face reminds me when i was old

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i’ll write about the sounds of your heart and how i synced my heart to your rhythms… tonight the options are spread out before me, wondering if i should confess to you or just continue pretending that i won’t be aching for you and just stay silent staring deep into your eyes

i’ll write you in soft lines, and tell the world how my boy is so bright and smart with warm heart and pouty lips.. and how i wanted him since so many moons but was stopped by subtle fears and that he has someone else.

i want to talk to you about mysteries of old and of life, of me and that i’m not quite dull or stoney. i want to tell you that i’m not shy but that i want you to shine with your eyes so blue and so bright.

i want to tell you that i lost my youth along with the boy i loved with my all and all i have left are my eyes that are old in thousands of years.

i want to tell you that life happened and it happened a lot, and that we can share stories about spouses in each of our nests.

but lover, i got old and my life is at an end and i’m alone with no partner, dipping my toes in a lake full of memories and scribbling unfinished dreams in journal after journal.

then i found you, even before i noticed you, and my heart tells me you are mine, but i’m too old and wise to realize that it’s just a li’l dream of mine.

my story is ever so simple and wise, i just wove my heart into yours and threaded myself into your eyes and may be you’re my distraction or my lifeline.

maybe we don’t fit together right now but who knows, i may get to be your long-lost wife or a lover for a night or five.

i’m not sorry that i show you my eyes, and that i bare you my soul with inks so blue and fine and maybe you’ll give me a clue or two and maybe one day you will be mine.

 

Title credit: Telefon Tel Aviv

echo

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

sometimes i’m poetically boring; sometimes, i lose myself in dreams of days filled with nothing but cats, books & musique; living & breathing the things which captivate me the most. sometimes i invite loneliness with open arms; sometimes i just want to watch miyazaki movies and eat crème brûlée; sometimes i want quiet affection; sometimes i want to be an intimate stranger with someone; sometimes i want to float away into oblivion; sometimes i want to follow the white rabbit; sometimes i want him to whisper my name; sometimes i want him to need me, want me and love me; sometimes i want him to bring me back into existence; how can he weave himself into my life without my permission ? it’s amazing the way lives of total strangers intersect with one another and fall into each other.

i don’t mind you being so far away but the loneliness is screaming around me… i just want to sit in silence next to you and breathe you in and i want you to breathe me in… without even walking together we share moments and things we silently experience… i’d relax utterly & drape myself around you….. we are not bound by gold oh my darling, but we are bound by our souls…. i’ll delight in your gentleness… it’s wonderful but it’s scary. i conflict between sober practicality and a yearning for love, pleasure and emotional satisfaction.

 

 

 

a love letter

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

11/07/2017

dear boy,

i would have asked you if you saw the moon and how did it look on your side of the town ? as per usual, mine got hidden with clouds and fog and still the brilliance of the moon tried to cheer me up…

but today, i loved you. i loved you in a complicated and compromising and confusing way that made me uncomfortable and unapologetic. i loved you and i’m stupid, so stupid, stupid in the way i’d never able to keep my hands off of you given the circumstances, stupid in the way i’d spill the secrets i never knew i had, stupid in the way i’d cry every time i got too close to opening up and letting go, stupid in the way i’m  reckless and bold. but i love you. i am sure of that, no matter how many silences, awkward half-conversations, moments when we spit words like daggers and nights i soak the sheets with hot salt water tears.

i’m careless and consumed, you know.

you need not worry about things unnecessarily, you know, as i haven’t yet decided if i wanted to fuck you. as much as i am consumed by the thoughts of you touching me, i haven’t masturbated to the thoughts of you or touched myself screaming your name… so you see, you can relax and can be yourself.

maybe it’s a feeling. or a four-letter word. this love of mine. i am not sure.

you see, i keep on making up things in the dark so the monsters under my bed won’t devour me. i try to fill the void with the overused memories of you and like everything else, you will fade as well leaving only smeared red lipstick which turns black. i am not planning to dress up as yours.

i just talk to you in my writings. maybe because you’re one of the ghosts i am growing comfortable with. i don’t mind you haunting me if it’s the only way that i can remember that you existed. sometimes, i think i only imagined you in my mind. but then i see you. i’m too old to have imaginary friends but then again i only exist in my imagination.  somewhere, somehow my younger self refused to live in this reality which is unbearable and hellish and i retreated into another world. but you, you’re also some kind of hell.

i trace your shadow in places i haven’t been. i picture you sitting across me at a dinner table; lying next to me and having conversations… i guess you can never unlearn what you never knew. you are a bittersweet mystery that will always cling to my mind and your name will dance on my tongue. my words will always build themselves in a memorial of my love for you.

but if i were being honest here, broken is a word that describes me often. i just like writing you into hundreds of pages because, you and i, we’re more beautiful on paper. there’s magic in being a poison to each other. the happy ending is the space between us. i don’t think i’d get over you.

i just want you to know that i think every single time you read my words and feel you can connect to them in a sort of complicated way, every time you feel a tiny bit inspired by this to shake your own dust and be brave in facing the things you keep tucked in your pockets, each time you have something to say and are unsure of how to say it but will one day. in many ways i am just messy and confused as what i want and who i am but i promise you that sometimes i wake up, days like today, and it scares the hell out of me, makes me want to put all the covers over my head, but it also pushes me and drives me. i’m not one to admit when something is changing me and illuminating the path ahead with a spark and a twist of a fate i never even expected, but this project, this small attempt at filling loneliness up with words and chances to let go and hold on at all once, it is waking me up and letting me know that i can do this, i can do all of this, but i am sure, positive, that i couldn’t do this without you.

so with everything i’ve got and all the things i am still unsure how to give, thank you.

signed solemnly,

me

sext

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

this doesn’t belong here and it’s not poetic.. it’s personal and it hurts. i wanted to write you a page out of my life but i get nostalgic around this time and i remembered this from my past and so i want to leave this here before i forget, so it may feed my soul and warm my bones when i’m old.

i love the moments when i lie down in his lap and listen to his ridiculous conversation. once he told me that there is heartbeat in my fingertips as he kissed my fingers. we always seem to have tumbled into a world of half awake and half asleep and i love to just listen to him rambling on and on about things which make no sense, but at the same time make a whole lot of sense.

there is a certain tenderness when he holds me. and i feel anything but beautiful when i am in his arms and i feel as tho my heart is remembering and humming a sweet sweet song…. i am entranced every time as his warm throbbing skin makes way into mine. sex is beautiful with him. he taught me how to get choked. the first time he did it, my throat had a beautiful bruise and my windpipe fucking hurt, but i enjoyed the sex.  and the other day, we made a video of us fucking, and he wore his glasses and at that time i didn’t think of anything, but later i was watching the video we made and man, he looked gorgeous with his glasses on and the whole sex act looked so classy. and i loved the way my breasts swung when i was riding him.

i would have felt that my skin and i were out of sync and that i was living a nightmare. but things have worked out. it worked out for both of us. we became oasis for each other and we rescued each other from a nightmare called life. sometimes you want to run away from yourself and your skin and then you hit a wall and you sort of stumble into someone’s arms and you cry out rescue me, please help me and not let me be hurt and then you realize the other person is also hanging on to you and shouting out the same. and then, sometimes, the sun sets at a perfect angle and lights up the sky the way i light up when i see him. sometimes, all i need is a buttered toast and eggs cooked over-easy and i sit and sigh and sigh and sigh and snuggle into his arms a little bit closer and whisper as if to remind myself that this is home to me. sometimes that’s all you need.

 

novembers are hard