Archive for the ‘evaluation’ Category

All I am

Posted: September 23, 2013 in Emotions, evaluation, Life, Love
Tags: ,

Sorry, I am.

For what I am not.
For what I do, that pleases you not.
Sorry, I am.
If my words missed their meaning.
If my actions failed my intentions.
But Oh, do you not know?
That all I do, and all I don’t
That all I say, and all I withhold
Neither would I have done
Nor would I have not
Had my intentions been to please you not.
Oh do you not know?
For the better, I change.
I try,
For you.
I change.
For you, and only you;
I have learnt to love myself when I have loved you.
Words; All I have got
If more I had; I would deny you not.
These Words I mean;
When I say,
Sorry I am.
For what I am.
In apology, I offer…
myself; all of me, and all I am
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Cheeks, rounding up in a faint blush of pink as a smile softly stretches across.
A name, pressed on lips of cherry red…
And it leaves a taste of subtle sweetness that seeps into relics of a restless mind.
A pounding heart, escapes a breath that floats strings of tangled hair, upon a lust; so feeble in its presence, so potent in its burning ache.
Eyes, shuttered, upon a figure as memories drain life into its existence.
Heart still pounds, name still pressed and lust still stings…
Yet I still deny myself the right to feel.
Anything, if anything at all.

Precious, you once were.

Precious, your memory is.

Precious, what I felt will always be.
If you have forgotten, I’m grateful memory has cast its mercy upon your ache of remembrance.
If you haven’t, like myself, I’m thankful memory has paved us a lane to meet… To steal a glimpse into a time, so timeless, before consciousness seeps guilt upon the forbidden pleasure we both never ceased to sin; remembrance.
I still remember,
because precious, I once promised to keep you.

You have been stuck in my memory for so long that you have become so rotten, even yet you show up quite often that your memory still lingers; so fresh.

This, I say…
In the abyss of remembrance; to and for a memory that with time grows yet so dear to my heart than it ever was. And do I owe it to sheer reminisce or rather to remorse that I do not know.

This, I say…
In a time so timeless; ticking back to reverse. And have I lost track of time because I have come so far or rather because I have never really stepped forward in the first place, that , also, I do not know.

And this, do I say out of craving or out of resentment?

I do not know.
I do not know.

Somewhere, sometime, in Birmingham, UK.

Somewhere, sometime, in Birmingham, UK.

Night bids the sun farewell. From wild orange to decent purple the sky flickers until it settles under a blanket of elegant black. Stars burn out, dissolved into the void above myself. And I stare into the infinite nothingness until the lights dazzle my sight; the pavements adorned with the demure brightness of the street lamps.

A decent rush of cold air welcomes me on board. Tonight, it’s only these streets and myself…
A memory, ignited as the same streets pave their way into the alleys of my remembrance. And I recall myself walking down the same streets, breathing the same chilling air, listening to the same outrageous music of these streets fade into midnight, as they empty from all people and traffic…
I recall, an existence walking by my side, now gone. I recall, a heart enjoying the epitome of vibrant emotions, now empty. A few more steps down my way, and I recall, a soul ecstatic and alive, now barely living.
I walk, the streets are soothing. It’s quiet, they listen… To every memory that bounces upon every ignorant footstep…
l drift, and they drift along.
The night stretches, so does the streets. And endless, my walk becomes.
It’s the same people, walking down the same streets, yet their hearts exchanged for something rather different; less genuine, more detached- emptier.
I walk. I recall and recall, and the streets soothe the ache.
The night eats the passion away.
The memory escapes.
An unleashed spirit that leaves; vaporized into thin air, leaving a mist of sweet reminisce on my mind, and body.
Tonight, I’ve laid a memory to rest.

It lingers in its subtle shades of a fading demure. It floats, in its feeble dress of a life, called upon from the depth of the deepest pits of a restless mind. Plucked and stretched out to mask the domains of present, past and future; to merge them into one thickened blanket that overlaps the margins of time. Distorted then dissolved until timeless it becomes, dominant it grows.

Slowly it seeps, softly it creeps. Relics of a promise, manifested by the conscience of a clinging memory; one that, although vague and blurred, never fails to blatantly impose.

Stagnant silence, embraced then disrupted by a fragile reflection that defies the limits of remembrance and extends far beyond the borders of mind, dipping and dripping into the waters of desensitized emotions. A synthetic breeze of life, diffused to fill its nothingness.

And it still fights the forces of remorse salting its sweetness out, turning the lust into ache.

It falls, onto the tips of dignified despair, condensed into an evaporating mist of reminisce. Vaporized, leaving behind a pungent scent of a gradient of relinquished shadows of promises once made.

Words of a memory; outspoken.

once and never again.

Words engraved by the broken tip of a blunt blade of a memory.

 

 

Sentiments are pathetic, really. I haven’t completely turned into a psychopath yet, thus I am still ought to at least acknowledge the feelings as they rise; as they exist and persist only to add to the irritation.
Through the following, I hereby acknowledge a flamboyant state of unexplained, and certainly unwanted,  nostalgia that surfaces as reminiscing involuntarily imposes…
Emptiness is no longer a valid state when reminiscing still purges memories into oneself. And how could one be so vacant when nostalgia compensates for the void within?
There’s a memory that never fades, that no matter how quick one heals and how perfect the wound seals, it remains so vibrant, so poignant; so significant that it soon mimics the presence of what’s been absent.

There was once a feeling; now crippled, if not dead. And every time your heart craves it, your mind slowly flourishes a memory, that revives the corpse of how it once felt; to be alive.  And it soothes the soul, because the intensity of what pours into one’s mind is so drastic that it dramatically flips everything upside down; turning the vacant full, and the absent present.
So close…

So close it becomes to how it was once like.
The beauty of a world once created now crumbled and collapsed. Its relics shrank into a memory, its realms bound by the premises of a mind that apparently failed to comprehend what it is like to forget.

And the more you push yourself to forget the more your mind squeezes fertile visions of the lagging past that overlaps its present. A blurred mind, an impaired heart; soon they both embrace the warmth of remembrance rather than the ache of fighting it.
And how could one not remember when what it was is nothing like what had ever been nor anything of what will ever be?

So unconditional it came to life, so peaceful it grew, so blind and reluctant it was mislead…
So innocently it withered away.
Missing you is a right I have ceased to attain.

I am where I was once scared to be, but it’s not as scary as the image I once coupled it to within the depth of my imagination. Far beyond gone, I’ve been.
But I owe it to every memory I behold within myself to remember.
To forget is yet only another sin only the ungrateful are to be accused of.
To forget is yet only another tag for insignificance I’ll unfairly label you with if only I happen to forget.