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Unsteady

I find myself falling in love with things out of my reach, like the sky or you. I find myself holding on to things that are desperately begging to be let go off.  Things that don’t want to be held or touched. Things that love to run away. I’m not used to being in one place for a long time. I’m used to being temporary. I’m used to new places and new faces. I’m used to running away. I gave you my heart; bandaged and glued together, and you had the audacity to give it back with more cracks. I don’t believe in much but I believe in expiration dates. I find myself always looking for them on the back of milk cartons and on relationships. Things aren’t meant to last long. At least that’s what I’ve been shown. Until you drove past my darkest thoughts and stopped to listen.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

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An Open Letter to an Ex Friend

Dear you,

A friend breaking your heart always hurts more than a lover doing so. 00d3cff43aa61afd3c3471ec86bea04a

I wore black today. I thought wearing black would be appropriate as I was mourning the death of our friendship. Black dress, black ribbon, black shoes, even black underwear. I removed my sparkly earrings and wore a black necklace instead, with the word ‘Karma’ hanging from its center. It burned like a hot blade against my skin. I refilled the vodka flask that I spent the night before emptying, with black
coffee instead. I had to stay awake for the funeral. I had to “mourn my loss.”  But that’s when it hit me. That’s when I realised that it wasn’t a loss. You see, death usually implies something that was taken from you unwillingly. Someone taking something from you without there being much of a choice.

You had a choice. You had a fucking choice. But you decided to kill our friendship anyway, because it meant nothing to you. It was a murder. Cold blooded, blue murder.

I should have worn red instead. I should have worn my set of white pearls and donned my darkest shade of red lipstick. I should have laughed and clawed at your corpse. I should have thanked you for showing me that we were never friends to begin with.Trust and loyalty meant nothing to you. You were right when you said “I’m not like  the others”. You are far worse. The others never had the heart to do what you did. The others cared. The others were human. You were different. You were the worst. I only wish I had known sooner.

I hope one day, karma finds home in your arms. I hope one day, karma scratches its name in to your skin. And I hope you remember forever how it feels, to trust someone, only to find out that they threw everything away with just a snap of their fingers, without a care in the world. As if you meant nothing.

Dear you, this is the end. I would ask you to Rest in Peace, but I’d be lying.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

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Big girls don’t cry.

Falling in love with you was like skinny dipping in winter

Falling in love with you was like

Benjamin Franklin

standing in the pouring rain

holding the key high enough

hoping to feel some sort of spark

some sort of electricity.

It was reckless

It was a suicide attempt.

Falling in love with you

was the only thing I felt good at.

 

– excerpts from a book I’ll never write.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

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Ballerina

I’ll call her my very own ballerina Image result for ballerina

as she pirouettes in and out of my mind;

her feet barely touching the ground

passionate, yet seemingly detached

as if they weren’t real limbs at all.

I’ll call her my very own ballerina

as she turns and points and scurries through my thoughts

poised and graceful;

dancing her own performance in hypnotic circles

in the theater of my mind.

She finishes in a grande jeté,

She leaps forward from my hidden corners

and bows in front of me,

arms outstretched

white knuckles clenching a beating heart

She was my muse,

and I, her biggest balletomane.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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Hurricane

Chapter 389

I was lying face flat on the bed

sweat dripping along the curves of my body

Your fingers  scratching away the memories from last night,

desperately trying to forget.

Chapter 349

You greeted me as you pushed me against the wall of the elevator,

while planting the softest kiss

on my hungry lips.

My heart churned awake

Thunderstorms and hurricanes brewed in the pit of my belly.

Chapter 370

You floated along,

careful to be with everyone

but me.

I replaced the desire of wanting  you

with the bitter taste of vodka.

Chapter 355

You laughed and tossed from side to side

messing our neatly arranged bed.

That afternoon, I found Orion the hunter on your back

Chapter 362

Your perfume lingered on my neck

and I found myself inhaling the memories of you

I was way too comfortable

I was in trouble.

Chapter 381

I’m sorry I didn’t seek comfort

from the warmth of your skin

I wish I was different, sometimes.

Chapter 1

You had me at Hello.

– – – Extracts from a book I’ll never write – – –

Yours Truly,

Painted Shadow

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She used to be mine

I think I watched her a little too intently. I noticed how she lifted all her hair in a high ponytail and I was lost in a thousand moments, when I saw it swish from side to side as she walked down the path. I watched as she scooped a spoon full of rice and hold it mid-air, while her head swung back as she let out the loudest laugh in the room. I was hooked. I watched her eyes – packed with a 100 stories to tell, I watched as they fell upon mine. And in that instant, I forgot what breathing was.

You see there’s something very daringly risky about watching someone so deeply and so passionately. Sometime, someone else is going to notice you. They’re going to notice how your jaw hardens when she passes, and they’re going to notice how your eyes flutter and they’re going to notice that charming smile dances on your lips the second she walks in to the same room. They’re going to notice how you barely blink when she’s talking to you. Afraid that you’ll miss even the smallest second of her. And when that day comes, when someone notices, you’ll be in trouble. Because God forbid that person starts to notice those little things too. God forbid, that person starts to fall in love with those things. Then you’ll be done for. You will no longer have your little bright star. You will no longer have her. Even if it was only from a distance.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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Heartbreak Warfare

Despite what they tell you, despite what you’ve heard over and over; two broken halves don’t make a whole. Two broken halves never quite fit back the same way, even with the world’s best glue and tape. There will always be missing pieces, missing fragments that got swept under the sofa or lost between the floor boards. And my darling, we had lost so many pieces, growing up. We had lost so many fragments and pieces of ourselves in corners and clenched fists around world, that our two halves, never quite made a whole.

There’s this thing about loneliness. Once you get used to it, once you get good at it, it’s hard to go back from that. And for that, I am sorry. I could never be your whole, despite you desperately wishing that I was. Despite you desperately wishing that I could be.

You see, despite the lost pieces, I had made a whole by myself – gathering up pieces I thought I needed along the way. Gathering up pieces I didn’t think I needed, desperately trying to fix my own puzzle. When you came along, I thought maybe you were a missing piece, but you were your own puzzle. My darling, you were your own puzzle, desperately trying to find your missing pieces. And it killed you, that I wasn’t one of them.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow