Monthly Archives: March 2011

fortes fortuna iuvat

There could be laughter.
There could be affection, intimacy, joy.
There could be two souls bonding, swimming in a parallel ocean.
There could be a sweetness.
There could be fulfilling, all-encompassing love.
There could be trust.

There could be denial.
There could be failure.
There could be heartbreak, laps in a pool of despair.
There could be humiliation.
There could be unrequited love.
There could be loss.

fortes fortuna iuvat.


love from afar

Even from afar.
The love you share with me.
Astounds, flatters, illuminates me.
Even from afar.

Dare I imagine how this love might manifest, multiply
once the miles between us finally shorten?
This love.
Deep, truthful, sure, respectful, fulfilling, exciting love.

A comfort.
A future.
A future with you.
Oh, the thought now that this future looms mere double digits away.
Un tel frisson.

The bird will finally be flying to you.
Home to you.

Open heart surgery

just in time for 12pm tea…

– –

I did not expect. This.
The dread. The nerves. The panic.

I did not expect your perfection.

When did your face become so porcelain?
So charming? So disarming?

When did you start smiling?
When did you become the character? With grace, style, charisma?

And when did you stop shuffling around like your presence was not worth acknowledgement?

Was our being so hard to bear, you dare not be seen?

The inevitable. One heart so alive and comforted with the thought of you.
One heart terrified of being alone.
One heart naive in desperate love and sacrifice.
One heart grasping at the easy desperation.

All fun and games until…

The desperate heart unravels.
You understand.

Why could you?
I wish you would let me go.
But you told me you would fight for me.
And you are a man of your word.

I wish you had told me you would fight me.
Fragile, honest, loving heart.
Could have warned me.

It tears me up that I can’t love him the way I want to.

But now no heart left to break.
Just shattered, torn, constricted.

exhausted. open heart.

abnormal affection

I have an abnormal affection for hand holding.
not that I’ll hold hands with just anyone.
only my someone. but.
all the time.

and receiving kisses on the top of my head.
his two large hands on either side of my face.

do not misunderstand. the passion and love of locking lips is not lost on me.

but. oh.
For the sensitivity of a kissed forehead.
the care.
the friendship. the love seemingly without sexual overtures.

I am not so sure I am convinced.
I think the overtures are prominent.
pronounced. marked. definite. obvious. (your thesaurus does not impress me).

it is like a pressure.
calming, gentle pressure.
reassuring. affirming. understanding.

Maybe a love less admired.
Less spoken about.
Less acknowledged.


the magic of tea and soggy eyes

have a cup of tea
breathe deep
don’t mellow.

I open my soggy eyes. wide.
my cheeks fill with air.
relief. at least I think it is relief.

tears rendering so many reactions.


my reaction?

hold him.
so close.
I press you into me. you can stay here.

Lost. Until found.

Such frozen, fresh air

Like a spy. Like a bird.
Like the Mount Wellington wind ripping through my tiny body.
Such frozen, fresh air.
The discomfort and the pleasure.
The insignificance of being. Here.
The wind has no time for comfort or pleasure.

I thought I was tough, muscular, strong, adventurous even.
A day in the wind ironically hurtles me back to earth.
Beaten again by the pull of gravity.

Tomorrow. The wind is gone. And dreams will fly.

you have no idea

you have. no idea
how loving you.

erodes me.
embraces me.

and gives me permission to fly.

A stanza of quandaries

I feel you falling out.

Moving away from me.

I know you think you’re subtle so I let you believe it.

But I know.

I know you and you wish I didn’t.


My taste for you keeps me here.

What keeps you here?

What do you crave?

How can I persuade you I’m worth holding again?

A stanza of quandaries.


Oh, those quandaries. How you despise me for questioning.

My insecure, curious, inquisitive spirit.

You forgot loving, caring, accepting, creative.

But not trusting.

How could I trust you after I hurt you?


Remember how close you held me that first night?

First forbidden, anxious, soft, gentle night.

5am. I forced myself to leave in the hazy, still of morning.

I told you I have never felt so loved and safe.

Will you ever hold me like that again?


I read your poetry.

I read your books.

I read your hands, your eyes, your transfixing smile.

I left you. I came back to you. I hurt you. You came back.

You hurt me. I love you.


I feel you falling out.

I grasp at the hope you want me here.

My breath is trapped in this despondent desire

As I beg you to love me.

I know you and you wish I didn’t.