Everything beautiful in it's immensity is terrifying.
May be that is why they call Love beautiful.
And it's also the answer to why it scares us.

I miss sleeping with you.

The way my head rested on your forearm, buried in your bosom, the way your hand caressed my back in the slumberous fashion only you had. I wish once again I could drape my leg over both of yours and feel the warmth flow through you into me.

Even at the peak of summers, in those sweaty nights, I held on to you and your welcome warmth. You were with me, and all was fine in the world.

Now you are so far away, Mother. I’m cold and needy. I miss the blanket of your protection, the bliss of your warmth.

Scold me all you want. But please love me again.

Come back. Please just come back.

I wish you fall in love, and fall deeply.
So deep that you never know where you end and your other begins.
I hope you feel joys and sorrows as one.

And if you lose in that race of love, I hope you climb back up,
Pick up those pieces,
Smile through your tears,
And learn to love, even more deeply.

All over, once again.

At the threshold of the twilight that I chose to leave behind,

I stood and reached out my hand, trying to touch the rays,

Of a new dawn,

Of a new place,

Perhaps a new life?

On the other side,

And in that moment,

For just that moment, I thought, 

It waited.

And it waited for me alone.

Rantings of a Famished Heart.

Who am I?
The smiling person you see everyday?
Or the one who seems to be crying all day long?

Why the confusion?
Why the seeking?
Who am I?
The nobody hiding in the closet?
The loser, who's always broke?
The seeker?
The gainer?
The honest hypocrite?
Who am I?

I keep seeking for answers I might never find.
But this I know, I no longer am what I once was.
The one I was when you had me and I had you.
And so here I am.
All alone.
Still seeking Me.
But leaving those trails, the paths that lead to you.
I can't bear it any longer.

So here I am.

#Mumblings.

You get used to some people in your life, sometimes you just think you love them because you are so used to doing so. You can turn over while in bed musing about it, or hit your head against the wall, or just ignore it. But hey, it's always there. In the rumble tumble of these thoughts you forget to live and just "go with it".

Then comes the jolt. Realization steps in, showing you what you've been missing or what you want and do not want. You see the sphygmomanometer of love fall, reducing the pressure to the extent that the mercury of passion and love stops moving altogether.

Ms. Woolf, I see I guess, what you felt like, trapped in that way.

You wouldn't have found someone else, it's just knowing someone else that makes you realize, "What am I doing?" and the blindfold on the eyes come off. All you want to do is break free from the shackles, and run.

Not caring at all where the road takes you.

Musings.

Love does not subside with time.
The thrill might diminish, you might feel used to the person. Even the sorting out of things, or making up for some shout and screams might not be there as it was before.
Tears may go unnoticed, even unshed.
Sometimes I feel that it's the "helpless, getting used to it" that's at work.
Maybe it is. Maybe we need enough balls to say "shut the fuck up" or "stop venting out your irritation for what happened there over here."
But we don't. And then it's time to go and you can't as something else comes up.
And it all drowns in that Greek myth of Lethe.
And we get back to loving again, crying in secret.
Because no matter what, the love bloody never subsides.