a day with me, can't go without the talks of my muse of course

-


 

To be the one trying to take the lead yet fall into a messed up bundle of a soul for the whole of the conversation, while the other one just looks in your eyes with those serene eyes and talks about the most flirtiest (that is, anything he says) topics, who might as well be hyperaware of what effect they are having, is one of the most devilish things to feel. A beetroot blush would suffice, but maybe I was just meant to be beetroot.

For all my attempts of making him 'short circuit' have failed, yet I long with the hope of 'one day', I am not great at flirting with him, as you can confer. Saying that 'writing is my way of flirting', has become the saving sword for me.

Little does a lover, a weird one at that, know about the sword being double edged. Meaning, what do I do when I can't figure what to write!? Lucky me, he is more than enough sweet to interpret my mumblings of 'i miss youuu' and kissing desperation *cough*, as little love expressions. 

In retrospect, my final act of loving someone is writing for them (and making them stay for the forever they promised). Explains why I write blogs about him in the first place. So much so that my love for him prevails all and all. 

To say 'How can I ever hate red, when my own soul is stained red because of your soul', just to say that something he loves (here, the colour red), could never be the pawn I hate. To draw Saturn everywhere as a memorial of what I used to draw on his hand. To note all the sweet things he said, till they fill my notepad, as reminder to give him more love. To, just, try to love. Indifferent of how I suck at flirting, how I am the only shy one, how I convince myself with 'maybe that is the way of loving' and what not.

Now, I have started blabbering (sorry); afterall, what could a girl in love do to forget the missing red in the soul, but yearn in a different format. 

The lover in me having him as my muse might just be the only constant personality trait I have. For, all I would ever need is to be successful, with him. All I would desire is living, with him. All I would want, is the feeling of being loved, by him.

All these gesticulations of my love, are just meant for him afterall. For him let me slide with my saving sword for a lifetime more. 

At the very least, the ratio of him to me of being shy is 0 (=1/infinity). But maybe it doesn't matter afterall. To be on his mind or shake his heart, whether it be with adroit chaos (me) or agonizing charisma (not so me), are one and all the same.

At last, I have come to be affected by his absence. And regardless of my hate of missing him, I have come to be glad to feel it. What a it is privilege to have someone to miss. For, what could a lover love but yearn for their muse.

.

.

.

For, what could a lover love but burn for their muse.





🎵- TV Girl - Lovers Rock

Thank you so much

For giving this your precious time

Stay tuned for more!

-17.

Check out more -

if anyone finds me looking at him starry eyed, throw something at me

-
Image
I am not in love. I swear. Not with my male best friend, at least.  But me not being in love would not justify why he is acting too much like a boyfriend, protective I mind you, and very delicate. Which is quite unlike when his first words of the day would be, quote un-quote, 'argh, can't you be absent for a day? I am desperate for peace in my life'. Now that would be old news because now he is, well, too happy that I am there.  Ironic, but the guy who, once upon a time, used to push and scrawl at me when I touched his hair for fun, is now touching my cheeks, ears, hair, eyes and arms like he has seen them for the first time. What makes it more awkward is, my so-called friend likes him. And that silly guy, unaware of her sharp eyes when he is with me, touches my shoulders in the most non- 'just best friends' way. After which I have to give her a confirmation about me not dating him.  Sure, I got butterflies every time he touched me thinking I would not care. I do. E...
read more

in the way of life, I have found someone who will flourish it

-
Image
  Maybe I have finally learnt the most beautiful way to live. What is it you say? Being in love. With him, with myself, with the little things that make me smile, and this life.   I wonder how my favourite words now are 'exist' and 'live' to write in a poem, when all I wrote was how death captivated the best of me, how I wish this all ended and many more which didn't at all coincide with living. But I am not surprised. It is just as if I knew that when he would come by, living would just get more pleasant than before, and not merely surviving and trying to ' live '.  As though, loving him was just continued over all my previous lives and when I knew him, I knew that it was love. Because it has to. At most, when this love found me, it would have found me alive, but when it took a hold of me, it must have seen me rise to live. Live with his smiles, with him having his arms around me, with this new found feeling of letting go things and holding onto just which ...
read more

when the skies clear up, you might know to let go

-
Image
I WANT TO DIE. And joking would quite literally not be the right word. It was all and all an innocent- cough - not so innocent friendship, but maybe things do change. I don't know how much exactly they changed because I am back again where I was 2 years ago. Where was I? In my world where he would love me, hoping that it not end with an alarm ring. But time and time, it became more difficult.  My friend liked him. And people pleasers don't let go a friend for a boy. And getting to know this when I prepared myself to tell him how I feel, would just be the straw that broke the camel's back. I did tell him who I liked though - His best friend. Before any of this got cleared up, my whole section knew about my 'much interested' crush.  Day by day, I left thinking about him. He started dating someone. I started dating too. How did that go? Ahem, get me a drink to hear that. (I don't drink, thus it will be a secret forever) But in all this mess, why am I dragged to squ...
read more