Before I start, allow me to justify my words.
I've always considered myself an introvert. For as simple as, if everyone and everything I care about leave me, I know I can deal with life on my own. Melancholic maybe. But still, living.
When upset or saddened, I prefer to be alone with my music, or with a seemingly interesting book, or with a pen and a notebook.
In this mollification, I recollect a gloomy memory. Although I know it does not make one feel better for bringing up the past to the consciousness, especially when it is a depressing one. In fact, it does more damage than good. But there are certain times that you just want to dig it up for release, because even though you were given an answer as to "how could you," sometimes it is never sufficient as to "why." And because of that, you look deep into your broken heart and shattered soul for the real remedy. You drown yourself of the pain and hurt. Only then will you heal, after materializing your tattered but mended self, in YOUR OWN pace, in YOUR OWN time. Because it is ONLY YOU who knows how it feels to be pained with such intensity. Aside from the fact that it is ONLY YOU who has a definitive say on your life, in all its complexities, with all the good and bad things, with all wounded and beautiful memories.
So this is my release. This time, I've chosen a good old friend and foe -- poetry, or so I think it is.
When I leave this beach, the sands will remember me
along with the music that flows through my body.
I will be known as the lady who reminisced about the good times
to try to mend and let go of something lonely.
I wonder, does she giggle too?
As I remember the first touch of your hands on my back,
at the warmth of your caressing palms, my insides giggled longingly.
I wonder, when you kissed her, did you let go of me in your dreams?
As I remember the first kiss and the first embrace we shared,
passionate and strong, our lips met,
your arms locked me up with such might, you seem afraid to let go.
I wonder, when you come to her, does she think of the universe as I do?
As I remember the first time we made love,
the way our bodies moved in motion,
bound by sweat and whispered nothings,
as we consume each other's ardent emotions in unison.
I hold on to my breath as I bathe in the golden rays of the settling sun,
the way I am holding on to my love for you -- smothering
but true and eternal... forever.
I give this poem a title: Flow
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| credits to the FB page, Lessons Learned in Life |
