A True Beginning

It is time to readdress my life, to invoke new energies from the universe that contains me. Crying over someone's indifference can be genuine, but time is not endless and there is so much I can do instead.

My book has been dormant for over a year. I still believe it is a story to tell. I still have the certitude its melody will sing to some hearts.

Life is reinvented once more, on this cool Autumn morning, a pale sun shining over yellow and red leaves.

Platonic Love

You know what?

I can do this.


I will forget him.



I will live away from him.



I am resigned. From now on, I will dream of George...

I am happy...

I Am Well

But the unbelievable reality of our dead romance, hits me every day.



Hard.



On the face.
On my limbs.
On my core.



Like a foreboding nightmare.

Like an ancient fear come true.

Friendship

Sweet Autumn whispers remind me that we can still be friends.


Reshape our love.


I just need to mutate mine.

     Shrink it.

          Avoid it.

               Constraint it.

                    Ignore it.

Nothing Else To Say...

Actually, It Is Never the End of Love...

Waves of tenderness cleanse and soothe my sorrows.

The incredible feeling of loving above all self-selfcenteredness.


After watching a documentary about the tsunamis in South East Asia in 2004 and in Japan in 2011...

Humanity at its best.

The End of Love

Last day of summer.


It rained through sun rays and low clouds.


His eyes were fixed on the road.
Mine were shut.
While he said: "I'm not ready for romance anymore."


The flowers of my love flew slowly from his strong hands to the garbage can in his kitchen.





I am left on my lonely bed, curled as a sick child, in my kingdom of tears.

Choice

Giving, giving, giving.

Giving without expecting anything in return.

I am trying...

Lady of 53...

My eyes will just not close.

I stare at the shadows of my room, listening to the cicadas and crickets singing to the moon.




Is it possible that I will sleep alone the rest of my life?

Disbelief

Sudden realizations reveal the unbelievable reality of his indifference.

How did he manage?

How did he extricate himself from the tight web of our love?

Why is it that he feels nothing while I am left with the void and the ice?

How can a human being run away from the sweet glow and protection of such a love?





And yet it happens, every day, every hour.

Feelings mutate. Some die as the cocoon opens. Some become butterflies.

Mine are flying high.

Despite everything
                            defying
                                       silence
                                                 distance
                                                             guilt
                                                                    resignation
                                                                                     rejection
                                                                                                  solitude.

I guess, I am in love with Love...

Beauty

To all those grieving hearts...

Cherish yourselves and know that working on your own personal happiness is the only road to healing.

I am trying, knowing I am not alone.

Knowing that my struggle carries dignity and spirituality.



That every minute we spend fighting the urge to call our ex-lover's telephone number amounts to colossal and beautiful energy and self-respect.

That each tear rolling down our face shows that we are sensitive and courageous.

That each deep sigh expelled from our chest proves that we are openhearted and devoted.

That each stubborn comforting step leads us to a better way of balancing our emotional lives.

Disheartened

Sometimes it takes one boring phone call, adorned with trivialities about doctor's appointments and lack of news, to cage all the subtle winds blowing in one's precious Hope.

My Lost Feast

Everything was a feast when observed from the nest of his chest.

Who gave me the right to get angry at him, when I had it all?

Memory One

My towel drops without a sound on the soft mat.

My feet enter the sizzling white foam.

The hot water engulfs my body in maelstroms of pleasure.

The room is dark.

Spheres of trembling light float above white candles around the tub.

I call him.

His eyes glitter.

His mouth is half open.

Flashes of a happy childhood flicker in his surprise.

      Christmas mornings

            Birthdays

                  His first kiss

                        His first song


I will never forget his expression.

I will never forget that moment.

When love was at the reach of my fingers, in a bubble bath.

Nostalgia

Do I miss him?


Do I miss what we used to have?


Do I miss his familiar company?


Do I miss what he gave me?


Do I miss what I gave him?


Do I miss him?

                                                                                                                 I do.

Chemical Attack

I talk about breathing while thousands of innocents in Damascus gasp for air.

Today I think of them.

We need to heal this world.

Observing myself

Something from within myself is helping me expand and breathe.

I am swallowing relief and freedom.

I am with my own self.

An old self that accompanies me since the beginning of my light.

A spirit that endures no chains.




And I love him more for that.

Consolation

Why didn't I think of it before?

I put on his old t-shirt and sleep soundly, a smile on my glowing lips, after his mouth's last soft touch.

Fly Free

This is what I want for him...

I will always love his freedom.

The Key

I could not think of a way to heal.

I could not even accept I would.



But I have now seen the vast cavern within myself where the waters are calm, the air is pristine, the light is eternal.

I am not the orphan fighting huge waves any longer, battered by an angry sea.

I am a spiritual being taking it all in, consenting to reality, warming up my heart, sending goodness to my loved ones, motivated, hopeful, joyful.

Serene.

Recovery

Although I lose my love a little bit each day.

Each day becomes a little bit better.

I am gentle with myself. Patient.

Birds chirping outside my window

      Warm water on my skin

              The bucolic freshness of the sunset under the trees

Small delights build my Self. 

Away from him. 

Daily stuff

It was so simple then.

His hand wrapping my hand, while we slowly walked along the corridors at the supermarket...

Transparent Morning

It rained all night.

The morning is crystalline.

I am genuinely HAPPY for him, for his mending heart, for his smiles. His triumphs.

It is a delight.





I love him.

Ignorance

"I can't breathe", I wrote in my diary 4 months ago.

I didn't know that I was choking him.

Proximity

For some hours each day, we are in the same small town.

We work 10 minutes away from each other.





For all I know, he could be in Greenland.

Gaze

He once made me beautiful with his eyes. Young.





He then made me a witch with his eyes. Old.






He remained beautiful.
So did his eyes.

Privacy

Our nakedness was our feast.






Now I shower behind a closed door and dress hidden in a dark room.

Because he does not want to see me.

Knowledge

Lightning one two three thunder.

Lightning one two thunder.




He knows I am scared of storms.



He is not here.

Objects

Every single knife in the house contains his touch.

Every single door knob.

Light switch.

Pillow case.



I kiss the napkins.

So close and faraway.

Love

Love is all around me.

The sunset breathes his name.

I love him.

The pain is sweet, lovely. I love him.

Everything makes me love him.

Even hope.

Dawn

I am cold. I wake up.

As I emerge from my subconscious universe, the weight of his decision crashes my chest. The walls around his heart collapse over me.

He is free.

Farewell

"From Middle English farewel, from fare wel!, an imperative expression, equivalent to fare (“to fare, travel, journey”) +‎ well."

Nothing truer than this wish for the one who left without looking back.

A last kiss in the darkness of the guests toilet, where I had taken refuge to blow my nose and dry my tears.

And he was gone.

The engine of his car could be heard for minutes, escaping in the night of our last embrace.

Separation

Our moments together were a garland of laughter and conversations.

Now the air between us is awkward, tense, cold.

The balm that kept us fluid has frozen.

The bridges are gone.

The lighthouses extinct.

The wreath is broken.

No touch, no embrace, no kiss.



Only loss.

Entropy

There was once timeless endless passion. Everywhere. Any time.




Now he says,

- It's too hot.

Death of a Love

I wander through the house - sweat trickling down my spine and temples - drowning in the pain of his absence, his definite farewell.

I can barely function. The particles of air around me make my body hurt.

I should be in hospital, my heart on a tray, in pieces.

Instead, I go to bed early. I have to work tomorrow and smile.



No funeral for my Love.

No words.

No comfort.

Just pain.