Because Eyes can’t lie.

All my life I knew a different meaning of hurt
I thought needles and fire could cause fatal damage
Served me right, for being such a fool
Served me right, for not knowing better
No physical injury but a pain that felt fatal, worst than my worst nightmares
I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the shame in his eyes.

Every second of that trip hits me like a bullet and no matter where I am and what I’m doing, I’m taken back all those months and shoved right into my place. Nothing he says or does makes it better, it does make a lot of difference but it doesn’t fix what’s broken inside of me. I’m afraid nothing ever will.

Every year is a revelation of how deeply I’ve lived in denial, and every year it makes it even harder to conceal my shattered self but I’ve never suffered to the extent where I pray to not exist anymore. Living became so hard, every breath hurt, every second killed, I lost parts of me that I terribly miss but can’t find, anywhere, nowhere.

I heard my heart break into tiny pieces like broken glass, I felt my soul cry from within, churning my stomach and making me sick to the toes. My world has changed, have changed, but for what? I don’t think anything or anyone is worth that much.

The worst of all is the fact that I can’t hold a grudge, the fact that I can’t blame. But then why do I want to? Of all the people, I never expected him to put me here, every time he’s with me now, I feel a lump in my throat. Every day is a struggle to not utter nonsense, a battle with my broken heart to forget, if not forgive. Every night I sulk in nothingness to protect what’s already lost, to mend what doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s like dusting a plant in the desert, can you ever rid it off the sand?

Bound by Time

“Glowing smile in the daylight ended in a sudden dark dismay.
I heard their cry at night, heard them regret their day,
heard their souls, repenting, and craving,
Wished them time, from the crib of my grave.”
 
The world is constant, life is constant, living is constant, and so is death. But it changes, passes on, doesn’t stay, time is no one’s enemy but it’s a friend to none. Time, affordable by none but a blessing to some.
Lives have been wasted in denial of its power, of its significance and justice. We’re fools to waste it like it is our own like it doesn’t breathe and live because nothing gets more real than the moment itself.
Life starts from the womb but lives on the soil, nourished by the soil, and at last buried in the soil, but life, as we do not know it, is bound by time. The time that should be spent admiring the sunshine, is passed otherwise, because of time. The time that we could’ve created moments worthwhile, were spent otherwise, because of time. We perceive it to be limited, but we couldn’t be more wrong.
 
Time is the only thing unbound and unlimited, and we hear it laugh, when they cry, every night, at dawn, from beneath the soil, the ones in the grave, they wish they lived, not spending time, but making it.

Beauty

A beautiful lady. Elegant. Eloquent. Mystique.

Sophistication lies in everything she does, in every word she speaks.
Blue eyes like the ocean, rosy lips and blushed cheeks.
Dark hair, manicured nails, hips and waist all toned, eyebrows on fleek.

She was a beauty; attractive and captivating but, bound by time.

Gray hair covering heaps of knowledge and experience.
Fragments not phrases, but words of wisdom.
Wrinkled eyes with depth that deprive one of freedom.
Pale cheeks and weak bones but warmth like no other.

She lost her appearance to mountains’ worth of life.
Old to the world, beauty to some.

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments.
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove. 

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. 

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 

If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.

I remember reading Shakespeare for school, I loved how one man could articulate so many different stories so dramatically and beautifully. While I appreciated philosophy and devoured poetry, Shakespeare became my go to read every time I wanted inspiration to create.

All of that is history but this sonnet was among those few that stayed. Few days back,  a student complained about how pointless and unnecessary poetry is, he felt that studying it just makes it worse as anyone who’d be interested somehow wouldn’t be any longer when he’s supposed to produce an interpretation.

Jokes apart, I felt sad on how shallow lives have become. As a kid I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed poetry, I had friends and people who would talk about it as though it’s the most beautiful thing alive. 

Today the poetry rarely matches its persona, the declarative tone does less to add to its mystique and to one’s pleasure. When I read sonnet 116 I was left in awe, a hangover that lasted for quiet a long time and as a result I spent half of my teens in a struggle to create something as exotic, something nearly beautiful. Reading it made me feel love, understand it, at a very young age and perhaps the reason why school and teenage didn’t have that affect on me.

Today, when I’m pretty close to being tied in a knot forever with the only person in this world I feel is worth it, I can vouch that it bears out until the end of doom. 

As a child, a part of me thought love is magic, as an adult, I believed it is a myth, but as the admirer of words and all that is pretty, magic and myth, though beyond reality, aren’t necessarily unreal for me.

 I’m awfully young and in love and Shakespeare is taking me all the way high .

For those of you who don’t enjoy poetry, you must read poets from an earlier time (let’s leave my recommendations for another day) and for those who write poetry, be inspired by this and create a spellbinding piece, don’t forget to tag me in it.

Till the next day,

Adios amigos 🎈