For The Hopeful

Let me be obsessed with you. Let me imagine this life with me and you, dawns for watching your eyes peek from under those ridiculously beautiful lashes, days spent will a glow on my skin and a spring in my step because dusk will leave me pleasured in your arms.

Let me be obsessed with you, let my dreams be filled with images of you, my nightmares be of you being lost to me. Let me pretend that this t-shirt still holds your scent, and I have two toothbrushes in my bathroom and while I woke up alone today in my bed, there was a note from you on that pillow I never use.

Let me be obsessed with you, let me write my name with an ending that’s yours, let me cut out pictures in bridal magazines, save up baby names in my diary…a diary with more entries of your name than mine. Let me lose my mind because I have nothing but you on it.

Let me be obsessed with you, but more than that let me pretend you feel the same; that your heart belongs to me. That I am The One and every second we are apart you can barely breathe. That the contours of my body are the stuff of your fantasies and the sound of my voice a sirens call that welcomes you to your personal shangri la.

Let me be obsessed with you, let me pretend about you..because that’s all I trust myself to do. I didn’t find love in my hopeless heart, I just want attention…I don’t want your heart, not truly I’ll only take it because I want you to never get over me. And even my dark little heart knows you’re too good for me. So I obsess over you and pretend that I was a better kind of girl, one who could touch you without ruining you.

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Musings Of You

You ruin everything. That’s just who you are. A taker, you consume all that sustains the good, leaving nothing but a barren wasteland in your wake. Dust eating at my eyes, chaffing my throat…my chapped lips bleeding from that last bruising goodbye as I stand watching that careless swagger carry you into the sunset. And as I wonder how I will ever survive your devastation I want to ask you…No. Beg you, to please, please stay. You ruin everything. Especially me.

In equal amounts I want you back and need you far away. Far from my delicate sanity, far from the reality of my weakness for you smile, your eyes…that arrogant look that I know is only for me, that tells me in ways that your lips won’t bother to, that my every resistance reinforces the depth of my desire for you. I hate you. And you know this too…because it’s a product of the love that still tears me apart.

Was it ever good? Was there ever a time I lay in your arms without a tear ruined face? A time when your kiss meant a promise instead of an apology? When loneliness meant the absence of you and not a condition of our days together…I think I remember a time when you were a respite from the madness and not the trigger for my lunacy, when your eyes saw only me and the sound of your heart in my ears the most beautiful music ever made…I think I remember. These days I’m not so sure.

So I try…and mostly fail to keep from laying the blame solely at your Cole Haan’s…try to recognize how I enabled you with my complacence, my acceptance of you and all your caprices. I could have stopped you but I didn’t see that the excuses and the doe eyes were symptoms of a disease that I would have no remedy for and like an adult with the mannerisms of a child…what used to be fascinating becomes disconcerting. I should have seen but I didn’t. I saw you and I wanted…in any way I could and I ruined everything, to possess you, for who you are…I ruined you

Dear John

Love is like a rose, a beautiful fighting thing…its pulchritude overwhelms, the softness of its petals caressing as its saccharine scent beclouds your senses with quixotic sentiments robbing mind of reason, such that it’s bushes grow wild, creeping and covering all else as its thorny fingers tear you apart, piece by piece.

Still, a rose is after all things still just another flower, dependent on a caregivers hands to bloom free, on the glorious sun to shine warm, the teardrops of heaven to quench it’s thirst and most of all a fertile loam to thrive. Without all these its glory lasts for a period, slowly fading, wilting till the final bow a cloying smell that turns favor repugnant.

So, every good garderner knows, the secret of a good garden is to prune, ruthlessly everything beautiful or not that threatens the balance of his charge, your heart is your garden, one you should prune ruthlessly, lest it be overgrown by tall emotional weeds that steal peace and choke comfort, it is your duty to pick and chose that which most heals without scarring.

If not mother nature will eventually take the initiative, hiding the sun in her billowing cloak, holding the rain away from your need so that your leaves no longer turn green and your petals atrophy, one falling after another in an endless stream of “she loves me not’s” till it dies, slowly and painfully, starved of the nourishment it so deeply craves.

Like roses, in love we might not choose where our bushes grow or why but we have the choice to make, will we let it wrap it’s thistles around our neck squeezing peace from tranquility or will we fight, for our right to live free subject only to our own whims and caprices. A choice you must make, else nature will for she does abhor a vacuum and in her careless charge things are known to burn and break.

Till we meet,

The Heart Collector

14 Love Letters: 14th February

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” Plato. I hope you finally understand the how 14 letters have come to be, how I have been able to find it in me to pen bits of my soul for your reading pleasure, it is you that turns my simple musings into poetry.

Its today, finally, happy Valentine my love, so long I’ve looked forward to this day that I find myself wroth. With every second that passes I am filled with a growing sense of dread because I know as with all things…this too shall pass and I don’t want it to, not without you here with me but then again maybe it should.

Yes the sun should set on this day and rise with a brand new one brimming with unknown possibilities, pioneering new days I can look forward to, projecting my deepest hopes and dreams, because with every twilight that finds and leaves me here without you, I’m one dawn closer to the day you come home to me,never to leave again.

To be mine without reservation, loving, trusting, choosing me, despite and inspite of myself. To be a my north star, always there in dark times and in light, to be my partner in life, in dreams and reality, in laughter and sorrow. My protector, friend and lover.

To share my mind, to build a future, growing together to create something real out of this magic that we’ve become.

Yours Always

Your Sweetheart

14 Love Letters: 13th February

I would spend a lifetime telling you how much you mean to me and it won’t be enough, to express the depth to which this my consciousness of you runs in my soul. I love you, and God knows I’m justified but there will never be anything I understand less than the fact that you love me too.It boggles my mind, you love me, you… It leaves me humbled and feeling blessed, how did I get so lucky, what did I do right that I find myself thus rewarded.

I’m like a Rihanna song, not so easy to love, complicated. Blessed with a mind I barely understand, eyes that see too much, a heart that is either hot- a searing blaze or colder than the deepest reaches of Jortunheim, at every turn I find reason to question, distrust and curl into myself pretending like all is well while I die in silence, killing you along with me, yet you love me.

Too often I say the wrong things, or say nothing at all when a word is all you need to heal,too often I don’t do the things I say I would, I forget, I get careless, too often into selfishness where I tell myself I’m done showing you what I feel because you might one day love me less than you love me now and I leave you lonely even when I’m with you..yet you love me

I can’t find the words to express my heart all I can say is the same words I’ve said before, words I hope you never tire of hearing, I love you too.

Love Always

Your Sweetheart

14 Love Letters: 12th February

12 letters I’ve sent, 12 letters filled will “I’s”, “I will’s” and “I can’s”…even as I wrote to you and about you, all I talked about really was me, and not just because love does not overnight a narcissist reform but because love is not about what you get, its about what you are willing to give- everything.

Yes. Everything. Without Wax or contention, all of me with no reservation. I come prepared to be your salvation, your heroine, knight in couture armour to wrestle and slay all who stand between you and my ultimate pleasure- your happiness.

You see love leaves us vulnerable, like little kids running naked and barefoot in the rain, oblivious to everything that could prick and sting in the face of their euphoria, so that when the rain is over, they are made by that catering parent to learn anew the dangers of snakes and too sharp pebbles over the burning sensation of a healing poultice.

So we also become vulnerable the minute we open our heart to love, we run headlong, sight wanting, without guile or care, basking in the glory of fulfilment and when the heady sensation of newness fades, reality comes and we are forced to learn hard lessons of compromise and sacrifice, through the painful tutorship of potential loss.

And there lies the only choice love offers wait to receive from another who needs, lacks, hungers or wait for perfection… everything you think you want, to come to you and massage your cold heart athrophied from lack of use to life again or stay and give, selflessly, totally, completly without guarantees and live knowing true completion. It’s no real choice, because once you’ve known what it means to be whole with another no sacrifice is too steep to risk loss

Love Always

Your Sweetheart

14 Love Letters: 11th February

I’ve always wandered what the antithesis of love could be, this fierce reality that is more than feeling, more than emotion, seemingly possesing a life of its own as it grows like a particularly invasive weed in the heart of the unsuspecting. What could be so powerful it would stand toe to toe with the most powerful force on God’s green earth and not be found wanting.

Hate doesn’t cut it for me. Yes, it is the obvious choice and therein lies my greatest reservation, maybe it’s too easy. The proverbial red flag in front of a bull, to distract our focus so we don’t see until we feel the plunge of the blade. Hate runs too deep, its fierceness is too akin to Love, hate is heat, fire and brimstone. Hate is a living breathing thing that consumes everything it touches and that sounds too much like love to me.

Today it hit me, that the opposite of love is indifference, to not or no longer care. To not just see you as you are but to simply not see you at all. Not just a feigned nonchalance but a bone deep inability to muster any sort of feeling for what once consumed, to to be ice cold where you used to be fire. Indifference. that is the true antithesis of love, may we never be so unlucky.

Love Always

Your Sweetheart