91: Secrets
I was afraid that you’d see
The secrets that I’ve hidden
When you looked into my eyes
And gave me that smile
There are things I’ve
Told you about and things
I’ve kept buried away
Because it was too painful
Too painful to reveal
Ashamed of the things
That you’d say to me
When you turn away
And so I’ve become
This person, this
Emotionally detached person
To protect myself
~ Serendipitous
90: The Way She Loves (drabble) v2
I see into her eyes, the windows to her soul, and I know that she does not love me like I love her. She’ll never tell me that she loves me. She’ll always allow me to say it to her first, but she’ll never repeat the same words back to me. In her eyes, all I can see, written in black ink over the dismembered parts of her soul, are the words “emotionally detached”.
The words ring like a bell in my head, always, all the time, permanently. Emotionally detached, emotionally detached, emotionally detached. I love her. Can she see that, or is she willing herself to deny what is in front of her?
What if I left her today, tomorrow, next week, whenever? Would she react like a saddened lover would? I always think about this, but her coy smile and the flicker of happiness in her expression always derails my logical train of thought, simultaneously brings out the best and worst in me. I love her.
She probably doesn’t love me, and that hurts. Sometimes at night, I lie awake and I think about what I saw in her eyes as I held her close. The words “emotionally detached” awakens in me a shattering ball of melancholia and sadness which starts in my chest and eventually spreads to the rest of my body, numbing me like an anaesthetic. It makes tears gather on the edge of my eyelids, waiting to fall, waiting to crawl down the sides of my face into my hair or wherever I want them to go.
She’ll do everything to make me think that in her own way, she loves me too. She’ll flirt, she’ll promise, she’ll protect, she’ll do whatever she can to bury my real thoughts of her, bury the truth, bury the realness of everything here. She’ll always wonder if I know, if I know about what she’s really doing. One day, I’ll have to tell her. I’ll have to tell her that I hate the way she loves me, the way she loves me isn’t the way I’d love her, or anyone, for that matter.
She is my greatest glory, and yet, my greatest tragedy.
~ Serendipitous
89: The Way She Loves (drabble) v1
She’s all about breaking the system, changing the system so that it works for her. So, naturally, when she sees those romantic comedies or deep romance films, she’ll want something that’s not cliché like that; she’ll want something more complex, like a near unsolvable puzzle. She’ll want to twist her own feelings in such a way that she won’t understand them and she’ll try to understand them and she’ll force them onto her partner but she’ll never understand; she will have twisted it so much, wrung it out like a sponge to breaking point.
The way she loves is frightening. She will never tell him that she loves him, only that she “likes him a lot”. She will always wait for him to reaffirm his love for her first before she gives him her own reaffirmation. She will break down his walls slowly and use his bricks to build hers higher. Perhaps that is why her wall is so high, impossible to climb, even for her.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe that she loves her man. She’ll treat him roughly, beat him up with nasty words with an acidic tone and confuse him with her declarations of “love” for him. Even though he suffers under her presence, he still loves her. He is blinded by love, and under her spell, he will not wake up until she leaves. But she does not want to leave him; perhaps he is the best thing to have happened to her in a while. He loves her wholly, treats her right, gives her everything she wants, but what about her? She does the complete opposite, like she needs to prove something to herself. He’ll never understand, she’ll never understand and they’re not supposed to be together like this. He deserves someone who isn’t thinking like this. He deserves someone who doesn’t take the bricks of his walls to make her own.
I have hope that she will eventually leave him alone. She should love wholesomely and not brokenly, I suppose. Her definition of love is twisted, sure, but I think she still loves, even though she denies that it’s a part of her.
~ Serendipitous
88: The Way She Loves (poem)
The way she loves frightens me
She does not love like others do
She tests me, tortures me, but
She does not hate me
The way she loves is strange
She’ll never tell you so
She’ll never treat you so
But her eyes will say everything
The way she loves is broken
She hides behind a wall
A wall so high
Even she cannot climb it.
I disapprove of the way she loves
But she knows this not
Yet I will still love her
With doubt in my heart
~ Serendipitous
87: Howling Wind
This morning the wind whistled,
But I barely paid it any attention.
At my inattention it must have bristled,
What grew in the air was the tension.
All through the afternoon,
I could hear the wind howling.
It cried its harsh and nasty tune
Which left me in my room scowling.
The day draws to a close
And the wind starts whispering softly.
Sorry for the noise, I felt so morose
That I decided to treat you roughly.
~ Serendipitous
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