People love the idea of me, they love the idea of having someone as kind and sweet as me, but they don’t really love me. They don’t love all of me, only the good and not the bad. They only want me during the best of times never during the worst.
They choose me or keep me around because I am the better choice. But I want to be chosen because they feel no one can compare to me.I want to be the only choice. I want to be chosen because they want to wake up by my side everyday, they want to deal with my bad habits no one elses, they would rather fight with me than live in peace without me. They don’t choose me because of how they feel for me, they choose me because of how I make them feel.
You see, when someone wants you for the way they feel for you, even when you’re not at your best or not treating them in the best possible manner they still want you. They don’t look at you and think of the good and make a decision based upon that, they think of your bad and despite that want to be with you.
When someone wants you for the way you make them feel based on the things you do, they don’t want you around when you’re not or havent been at your best. They are impatient and don’t see you worthy of their time and effort. Someone who truly loves you cannot stay away from you despite the circumstances good or bad. If people pick and choose when to love you or when they want you based on the circumstances, then they dont really love you.
I was never wanted because of the way you felt. I was only kept around for the way I made you feel. For the kind things I did, the love I filled you up with and the smile I’d constantly smear on your face.
You never loved me, just the idea of me. – S.Alaa
“If they truly loved you and wanted you, they wouldn’t say you deserve better and to go find it. They would become better and give that to you.” -S.Alaa
Your current is dangerous and when it is still, it is waiting to be provoked. I do not know whether to stay on the shore and wait till your currents have calmed to sail again or locate a new ocean to sail. I am in the in between.
I am unsure whether in time you will welcome me back to join you or churn up a storm to keep me out. Perplexed, I sit at the edge of the shore. Yet, I feel like I am anchored to the bottom of the sea bed, chained around my ankles, floating aimlessly just below the surface of the sea. I cannot sink to the bottom nor am I able to float to the top. Now do you understand? I am in the in between.
It feels like I am staring at the face of a clock, gnawing as the minute hand goes back and forth between two dials, waiting for it to make one revolution. And I think to myself, can it be fixed or is it time to get a new clock? I am in the in between.
It feels as though I am climbing a mountain, oxygen concentrations are depleting, I am exhausted and weak. But I have almost made it to the top, shall I take this as a victory in itself or climb cautiously and tactically to the top? I am in the in between.
Do I hold on and wait or let go? There is nothing more torturous than false hope.
I am in the in between. – S.Alaa
I am the lighthouse that has guided you through your darkest nights.
At times my light may have been dimmer than other nights, but I have always been alight.
Like other ships, you may think you can take the tides without me but one day you will miss my light.
When sharp coast rocks graze against you and the angry ocean tides crash against you, you will look for my light in the chaos of the night.
Like other ships, you may sail off searching for a better light, but one day you will come back in search of my light.
I am the lighthouse that has always kept you safe at night.
One day my love, you will miss my light. – S. Alaa
Plates filled with half eaten cookies, sweet like your kisses; tea cups half full with your favourite type of tea, but now cold and bitter like your temper.
The sun has set and our play date is over, but I will still take a stroll over the white picket fence we built together and remind myself of the colour of your skin, that resembles the sun rise of a new day.
I will sit on my favourite swing and watch as yours, adjacent to mine, rustles gently in the wind and I will sing your favourite lullaby for when you search for something to help you sleep at night.
The sun has set and our play date is over, but I will still set a pot of your favourite type of tea and pretend that this is not goodbye but a permanent game of hide and seek.
“I feel like nothing, I meant nothing.”
“You are everything, but to someone else.”
I love you, today.
I loved you yesterday,
And I will love you tomorrow.
– S. Alaa
I am an artist.
I am the artist that will write poetry across your skin with kisses. I will trace your scars with my lips and replenish them with colour. I am the artist that will use colours of you to create a masterpiece. A masterpiece that I will lock away in the corners of my memory; a masterpiece I will bring out to trace over when you have gone.
I look down at the space between my fingers only to find them lonesome without yours.
Glancing left and right only to not find you on either side, just my own solitary shadow. And that is when I realised, you are nothing but an empty breeze. An entity and nonentity, that fulfils no purpose but to gently brush aside the hair of passers-by to whisper sweet meaningless words and empty promises. A gust of tremendously strong wind to make us feel everything on the surface of our skin, but thats all it is, the surface. There is no substance, no depth to your words as they aren’t followed through by your actions.
But I am not a gust of wind nor am I a nonentity. I am a thunderstorm, adamant to overthrow Zeus from the heavens, if it would allow me to fill the space between your fingers. Giving rise to tornadoes that would leave behind a wake of destruction. A wake of destruction I’d use as pathway to get to your side, to ensure your shadow was not left companionless, like you left mine. For you see my love, my actions will evoke tsunamis within your soul and fill your veins with streams of adoration. My honest and meaningful words have created an ocean of devotion to you, with each wave of affection that crashes against your ribcage, it erodes the surface of your ribs to reveal the warmth and fondness that I have filled your bones with.
And just like the wind, your presence is momentary. Momentary, just like your infatuation and commitment.
I am a storm and you are a gust of wind.
Watering you with love from head to toe, washing off every ounce of your woe. I have cleaned the cob webs that nestled between your ribs and hung honey suckle vines instead. We have not sewn parts of our hearts into one another to replace the pieces we carelessly gave away to old lovers. Instead we built a beautiful white fenced bridge from my heart to yours, with a glistening stream of love that flows under this bridge, from the chambers and valves of my heart to yours.
Everyday I have tread carefully over the bridge to grow roses of luscious shades of red and pink within your lungs. Now I see your lungs are filled with life and I listen to the echoes of melodious laughter that depict every flourished colour. No more weeds of doubt entwined and entangled amongst the wiring of your brain, instead I have grown daffodils to fill you up with encouragement and hope. Within your scars I have grown clusters of lavender to represent purity and devotion. The purity of my intentions and love for you, my devotion to you.
I have grown a garden within my you, as you have done for me. My lungs are bursting with magnolia. You gently place beautiful water lilies in all the streams that spring from my eyes, to remind me of the love you have for me and the beauty you see within me. You have caressed me with endless encouragement and hope, I feel it trickle from the tips of your fingers onto each strand of hair, you’re growing blue bells from my head. Every kiss and every touch, an orchid grows, you have gently pulled out every dead rose within me, every shattered piece of this glass heart and has grown within me a real heart. Nurtured me back to health. Drenched me in kindness, never put me through a drought of affection.