Tears pour down my face like Autumn rain, my heart bleeds profusely from the wounds you inflicted within me.
Distraught, thoughts of all the other women that climbed ontop of you spin through my mind like a carousel. All the women who were inbetween the arms I called a home, all the women underneath the body I called a lover.
You scold at me to stop, but I can’t escape what could of been.
Your rebuke does not sting like your dishonesty, but I know I am not insane nor am I paranoid.
I am just sick, sick to death of being hopelessly in love with you.
And just like that I was thrown away and forgotten.
“Shams”, the arabic word for sun. (Pronounced Sham-ss)
The sun smiles down at me and I frown back. The air is fresh but it feels like my lungs have collapsed as nostalgia firmly wraps around my respiratory tract. I sit by the window and watch the trees sway in the breeze, reminiscing on days like these when it was just you and me.
I wonder if you’re smiling under the sun, the sound of your sweet laughter filling the air. I wonder if you’re squinting at the light, blissful without a care. I sit by the window and watch the trees sway in the breeze, wondering if you miss me on days like these.
My body aches and my bones feel brittle.
My limbs feel weak and my face has shrivelled.
But it was worth every sleepless night to watch you sleep throughout the night.
If you cage a bird that does not belong to you or does not want to stay, even in a locked cage it will find a way to fly away.
If you hold on to someone that is not meant to be yours or does not want to stay, eventually you will have to part ways.
What is meant to be yours will always find its way back to you, no obstacle can prevent a blessing that is meant to stay.
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.