‘You Left Me With A BLOODY mess’ is the sort of text one ought to first clarify before forwarding that the only person who got hurt, was hurt only emotionally.
Ooo… I feel an existential dread coming and it’s comin’ on strooong.
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To an old love never to be seen or heard from again
No more future of hope
No more happy tears
No more promises of scent or golden touch
And the passage of time carries you to destination distant memories
We change until we can change no more
We’ve got no plans, only sorrow
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Kindly refrain from railing against the tiny sprig of parsley on your food. Though it has only job—to add a splash of green—it didn’t ask for it. Thank you.
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Whilst waiting for my tea to cool down to the perfect temperature in front of a fan, I write this thinking about my love tucked in his corner of the world.
All these years and you still give me butterflies —> you turn me into a butterfly bush —> soon you’ll get me covered in caterpillars —>you’ve immortalised the butterflies by putting them in my tummy
A regressive series of romantic phrases for when too much romance is too much.
Can’t get any better except that which we make together.
Nb: now that I’ve thought about it, I believe I read the series of butterfly statements somewhere though I don’t recall the exact words or where I’ve seen them. Thus, I can’t take credit for the above
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I feel it my duty to report that Shein has stopped recommending via FB impractical items to me such as dresses made out of a scarce supply of duct tape. Instead, they ventured into more practical items such as “portable multifunctional woman’s urinal for travel” to “stand up and P…” in fuchsia in accordance with my (data-mined) profile, presumably. I say, this above all things, counts as ‘essentials’ in fashion-speak to the duct tape dress that might be a challenge to get out off especially for those of inflexible body type such as mine and hence, an impediment to trickling in the standard and usual sense.
‘Being a customer-centric organisation, we feel it incumbent upon us to craft a solution just for you. These come at only a fraction of our costs in the hopes of your continuing business, support and loyalty. Thank you.’
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On a bicycle with a basket up front, white roses, a blanket and someone’s cat,
ride through the meadows of tall, withering grass against the soft setting sun on our backs.
Allow me to rest upon the crook of your neck for as long as time
before you leave again knowing we shall always return
As long as you are near, everything is better.
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Mischievous trickster. You know you shouldn’t try to embrace anyone knowing you stink even if you believe erroneously in the non-transferability of your malodour unlike this morning’s fresh bouquets. Worse if you compliment them about their fragrance and look expectantly for a return of flattery.
“you don’t smell too bad yourself”
That would make them look like they’re lying or sarcastic.
“I like what you did to your hair”
Skipping over it makes it even more obvious
No comment.
Well, that’s rude especially if accompanied by an awkward pause.
You will do it anyway because you like people or so you say.
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Precious tears like precious plans all too soon dissipate and forgotten. Except when immortalised in words.
I never got to walk with her anywhere—no, I didn’t forget; only fearful of rehashing old wounds in case of some—ghosts of happier times. Life is fragile like that especially in our best friends. We love them enough to protect them from the consequences of our words—letting them turn to gold in times of need. Yet, I was waiting for news that never came.
And when precious plans are misaligned, the cracks are filled with precious tears.
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It’s been a while. I’d like to say that there’s something to report but I haven’t. We have come full circle, back to where I started six years ago. Back then it was beautiful; it still could be now except I’ve grown more weary and suspicious of any life-saving attempts.
When you’ve been sold air in a bag for a while now, all you will ever see is empty.
The heart is full again of that pressure that leads to an implosion—I want to do things to you that would make you feel, if only remotely, how I feel—if only I can transmute my emotions into your sensations like a pro.
My confidence, having taken a beating, is relegated to back-seat driving. Six years ago I would hardly hesitate. Now, I’ll take them like I’ve got nothing to lose.
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Watching ‘ Triangle of Sadness’ and some sea-sick, fine-dining passengers on a luxury yacht expelling remnants of gastronomy into beautifully-carved bowls of gold whilst fumbling to maintain an air of elegance and dignity— I thought— this must be the funniest thing I’ve seen this year until the camera pans to what looks like a squeegee cleaning a window, quite unfazed by incessant splashes of turbulent sea water— a job has to be done and it shall be carried out regardless.
The Incorrigible Kitten 