Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

My Unspoken Words

And I’m banking on your capacity to read my mind and know how I feel about you.

I can’t read a mind to save myself and I don’t believe that telepathy is true.

But your response to what’s on my mind will determine how happy I’ll be.

How has this notion that you must be able to read my mind conceived?

It’s because I love you and I think you should know that’s true

And if you don’t then it’s not fate and we’re not meant to be.

Because maybe there’s a truer love to be found if I don’t make it with you,

And maybe they’ll read my mind and see my love for them is true.

But maybe I will get to that point in life and find that just like you,

They too could not read my mind, and thus my lunatic ideas would mean we’re through.

And then, all over again I’d start the wait,

In search for a love, I’d hope and pray that this time it’s not too late.

I’d be older and wiser and realise that I should have spoken my mind

Because there were words written on my heart to which you were faultlessly blind.

**

And thereafter, whatever happens I will go on living a regretful existence

But if I could wish for and be granted another life I would not bear such resistance.

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Momentary

These Seconds

Together let’s make the past and the future unimportant. Let’s feel the presence of this present time and bask in the moment, letting life stand still for us, as we revel in all the blessings and the omens.

We are opening our eyes right now for now. We are travelling through time never chaining our minds to what was and are not squeezing our hopes into what might be. Because everything was and anything will be. But this is now and it is the only thing we have. Rejoice with me. This, this is what we can be certain of, this only and nothing else.

Occupying these seconds trying to piece together your memory and my memory and all their memories of what was is only forlorn. No moment of the past can be truly reborn, not in any existence. It can be questioned and abashed, that such a story in your mind never really played out. Every word uttered and every gesture made can not ever grace the space of now. Not really. You need nothing now that you have already used, it played it’s part in your kismet and it wants nothing but to be left alone in the time it was.

Occupying these seconds with dream upon worry, and hope upon fear, wondering where you might be in the next moment. You tell yourself your life is building up to something great. You say one day you will be content with all your nows because you will get to where you are meant to be. When in reality, God willing, you will get to that moment and you will find you are still you; life is still life.

You still think backwards and you still hope and worry forwards, irregardless of all that you have built up. You, again – 25 years later, tell yourself that your life is building up to something great. You say one day you will be content with all your nows because you will get to where you are meant to be. When in reality, God willing, you will get to that moment and you will find you are still you. You still think backwards and hope and worry forwards, irregardless of all that you have built up.You, again – 55 years later, tell yourself that your life is building up to something great. You say one day you will be content with all your nows because you will get to where you are meant to be.

This narrative continues on and on stringing itself through your life as long as it might. And then suddenly, usually without any warning and no space for thought or reflection it all stops.

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