Love and Scars - A battle

Maybe there is a reason to slow down when dating

How do you do that when you brain gets ahead of you?

When you heart sends signals of hope

And the gut keeps saying slow down?

What do you do then? 

I don’t know how to take things slow. 

I am either all in or nothing at all

When do you know you are loved the way you deserve to be loved?

or at least, 

Believing in the potential that you shall be loved the way you deserve to be loved?
When do the butterflies in the stomach stop fluttering?

At the mention of a name 

At the sight of pictures 

At the whiff of aroma, fragrances anywhere

At the thought of the warm body next to yours

At the memory of a kiss....

When will your gut settle?   

Does it ever?
Is this what love feels like? 

If it is, 

I want more. 

Everything. 

Every day! 

The ghosts of the past reappear

Scars get itchy

Scabs demand attention

They feel forgotten, abandoned. 

Alone. 

For a long time, they were all I had. 

With new love, they congregate

Whispering warnings. 

Pointing perceived danger signs

Red flags – 

- or so they think. 

Loves Illusion

How do you tell when you are in love with the idea of being in love with somebody and not in love with the person? 

The illusion of love. 

Energy is spent trying to make this illusion as rosy as your perception of how love should be. Of how 2 people who are in love look like, think like, act like! 

You get caught up in creating this perfect illusion only to realise that it was never the love you sought. When the person is not in love with the idea of love and perhaps is in love with you, and you realise you are not in love with them. Just the idea of them. Effort and energy had been utilized to create the perfect illusion. 

Illusions never last. 

Reality overtakes the illusion. Always

Now you have to undo everything that you have worked for years for.
Everything unravels.
Unthreads.
Unweaves itself.
Wisps of the idea drip off your fingers – like oil on a wet wooden stick.
All you are left with is stains.
Of what could have been.
What was and wasn’t.

What is Heartbreak?

I keep coming back to this space. 

To this place. 

Longing.
Yearning. 

To be fought for. 

To be earned. 

My language of love is giving. Service. Generosity. 

No lengths I will not go to, to give. Provide. Share. Embrace. 

Perhaps a misguided level of vulnerability. 

Unrequited.


I want to be loved to the core. 

I want to be imbued with your essence. 

Everything that you have and everything that you are.

I want not just a physical attraction.
I demand spiritual, emotional, psychological connection.
I want to feel your breath in the very core of me.
I want to feel your touch in my blood.
I want to be loved wholesomely.
The good, the bad, the ugly, the unthinkable.

I want to be earned.
Fight for me in the manner that fire consumes dry wood. 

Fight for me with purpose. 

Fight for my/our desires.
Fight for our aspirations. Our purpose. 

Fight for our togetherness and connectedness. 

Earn me. 

Because I am worthy.
Not just of you. 

I am worthy of me.
I am worthy of being earned. 

I have value.
For you, for me and for us. 

When you fight for me, you demonstrate to me that I am valuable.
Being by your side means every thing.
You see, feel, smell, touch the intrinsic value of my beingness.

Or else my heart will break

Heartbreak is not just a separation.
Heartbreak isn’t just ‘breaking up’ of promises, dreams and aspirations.

Heartbreak is love “unfought for!”

Heartbreak is not being fought for. Impliedly saying to me, I am not worthy. Valuable.
Heartbreak is disappointment
Heartbreak is zero returns on a very high investment.
Heartbreak is picking up the pieces, piecing them back together. As best as you can
Heartbreak is knowing your value. And knowing, it wasn't fought for!

Tell Them....

I fucking hate this country for what it does to us.
I am sitting here with a man and I can't hold his hand.
I can't get close to him and just have his essence fill my senses.
I look at him and I can tell he wants it too.
Not sex.
Just that feeling of a man sitting next to him with my hand in his or something equally intimate.
We can not do that.
I am at the point of bursting into tears.
Why is it so wrong to love, lust, flirt and be kind to the people our hearts want.
I am so tired of this shit.

I have to consider safety, security..
We have to wait till we are behind closed doors.
For us to hold each other and dance.
By the time we all get home from a club,
we are too tired and fucking drunk for that to happen.
I fucking hate this country.
At this moment, this hour, this context?
I hate this country

If someone asks what it is like to be gay in this country?

Tell them.

Tell them,
it is wanting to touch someone you love.
And can not.
Because you are in public.
Safety and security first.

Tell them,
it is exchanging cues and love looks in a restaurant,
because offering him a taste from my plate will weird people out.

Tell them,
it is feeling and wanting to be wanted by another human being,
but they can't do that for you.
And in that mini minute you are left feeling unworthy.
Unloved.
Undesirable.
It takes a specific mindset to remind you of your worth.

Tell them,
it is an invisibility that chokes air out of your soul.
Asphyxiatingly.
Killing your very essence.

Tell them,
it is spending your entire life seeking authentication.
.....affirmation.....
.....recognition....
.....benevolence....
Normality in an abnormal world.

If someone asks what it is like to be gay in this country?

Tell them,
that being a self identifying gay man is cloak and daggers here.
So many have been caught in the dagger than in the cloak.
And those who survive?
We live our life's wondering if we are next.
Regardless of our best efforts.

Tell them,
that being gay in this country is having to face your mortality,
it's fragility.
Every time I walk out the door of my house,
I PRAY I am not the next statistic.

Tell them,
it is loving and hating your country in the same equal measure that it loves and hates me,
A dual personality.

Tell them
that in nights like this,
I fucking hate this country.
But glad to be going to sleep,
hoping and praying that perhaps in the morning I will find the sliver of love,
that will sustain me for the next God knows how long

Afraid to Cry

I am afraid to cry.

I am worried if I do
I will not stop.

I am afraid if I cry
I will drown
Everyone. Everything

If I cry, it will be lost
Forever.

She Called Me

She called me.

It was late afternoon/early evening

I was at home.

During that time, unbeknownst to myself, I had become dull.

Borderline depressed.

My soul longing for an anchor. 

The cyclone-like uprooting of the previous 3 years had left fractures, wounds and holes.

Some were healing

Others still bleeding, 3 years later

Others gaping open. Silently.

Looking like the mouth of a tunnel before a speeding train comes rushing through

Leaving behind smoke. Noise. Vibrations.

Where there were roots once

Was a desolate field of unrequited love

Torn dreams, unfulfilled desires and an unhinged soul.

Remnants of a battle field

Of love won. And lost.

She called me

That late afternoon.

She was crying. And I sat to listen.

My battlefield blacked out from my mind

Gaping holes, fractures, aches, pains and longings forgotten

I listened.

She cried for love. Longing

The winds that wrecked havoc in my life

Had swung suddenly. Violently. Intentionally targeting her.

The rain had already started

And while she loved to dance in the rain

She could not

Not with this rain.
She knew. This rain will burn, acid.

When the first wisps of the wind touched her skin

She called me.

And we cried

Her in the pain of now.
I cried for all I had left and lost in the battlefield.

She cried for belonging
I cried for re-membering

She cried for understanding
I longed for memories

Our susceptible naïve souls knew what it was to know love.

We cried for love.

Love {ukn}won.

Love lost

At the end of the conversation she said,

My back is wet. From the dew I have been lying on.
I had forgotten how beautiful grass smells

When warmed by the body

I have forgotten

What it is like, not to be in battle.

Maybe I will call her.

-->

Scared. You Will Love Me

I want to know you
The deepest recesses of who you are
What you are.

The closed up, guarded, fortified you!

Then you ask if I love you
What I see I love
The experience is lovable
But love you?

You is soo deep inside, I have not reached it yet
Excavation, probing, unlayering, extraction.
It could be that is what I am enjoying
Will what I find at the end be worthy?
Of my energy, effort and love?

Can you be loved?
Love?

It could be me
My dreams, expectations and desires
of love and hot it should be
Vulnerable
Desire
It could be me
Wanting
Needing
Desiring more

You are my walls
To let me love you
Is to let me be loved
Known. Vulnerable. Desirable

I am afraid of knowing you
As then you will know me
And then,
you will love me.

Overwhelm

Do I overwhelm you?

Do I?

My quirks, spontaneity, dreaminess of and for life?
Does this overwhelm?

Am I a monster to be broken
Subdued, subjugated, made subordinate?
Conquered, vanquished and brought to its knees

Or,

An adventurer
Always looking for the next venture
Uneasy if tamed or domesticated
The one you have yearned for
To take you to far away places
And yet,
I scare you and overwhelm you...?

This is new for you
I can tell.
From the way you deeply inhale while I dream
I hope you dont wonder,
"Why is he with me?"
"Why does he stay?"

Hope you know
I wonder too...
Why am I here, with you?
What fate brought us together
I do this in the middle of my dreaming
of the next adventure

It may seem like I always know
What the adventure will bring
It wouldn't be an adventure if I knew, would it?

Confidence is a facade
Butterflies flutter in my tummy
Throat dries
Muscles weaken
I never know what the next adventure will be
Maybe this is the adventure

Do I overwhelm you?
I overwhelm myself.....sometimes

Yearning For Familiar Strangeness

One continues to occupy different spaces.

One continues to sway through dimensions.

Like a large heavy metal pendulum that swings in all directions.

You wait for when it will next swing your way.

Some times you doubt it ever will.

And so you wake up, walk, run, fly to find the pendulum.

 "Why is it taking so long to swing back towards me?

I have been waiting for far too long,

I am going to find the large heavy metal pendulum.

I will make it swing back my way!"

But 

You have vacated your place.

Your position.

Where if you patiently wait,

The winds will support the large heavy metal pendulum to swing your way.

However,

Is it the pendulum you were waiting for?

Is it the good tidings you pray it brings with it that you yearn for?

Excitedly

You watch it coming your way.

You feel the rush of the wind on your face.

A wisp of hair comes undone.

You wipe if off your face.

You look around.

To see. Dry-mouthed and wide-eyed

Hoping.

Yearning.

Expecting.

Heart beating.

Nervous.

Anxious.

You watch and wait.

And

No new tidings.

No gifts.

No surprises.

Nothing!

Just the large heavy metal pendulum swinging

As the gods’ command.

As the Universe pushes it to.

Nothing!

That is when you think,

Maybe moving is not a bad thing after all.

Maybe I will follow the swing of the pendulum.

To where it goes when am waiting.

You travel.

In search of a familiar strangeness of a place you think your soul inhabits.

Of broken hearts, Mending and Death

How do you reclaim your broken heart?

How does one has cleanse and heal?

When you have abandoned yourself in pursuit of happiness outside of you,

How do you cleanse and heal yourself?

It is not an event. I am realising that. 

Rituals and specific acts of emotional-valor are crucial.

However, they are not the end.

It is a process that one has to allow themselves to undergo.

I am thinking “how do snakes shed skin?”

How long does it take, what kind of a process is it?

Is it painful, uncomfortable, etc? 

Do snakes ever wonder what is happening to them the first time it happens?

Does it happen as a way of life? 
Naturally?

Do snakes come into the universe with an inherent anticipation of skin shedding?

Do momma snakes prepare baby snakes about shedding skin?

What is the ceremony, rituals, observances that occur the first time a snake sheds skin?

What about the first time a baby snake sees momma shed her skin?

Does it think that she is dying?

Or appreciates this as part of ‘being a snake?’

Who prepares us for heartbreak?

Under who must I apprentice?

At the feet of which guru must I seek guidance, instructions wisdom?

And yet, I am thinking that one has to allow themselves to process

Surrender to be processed by the process.
In this way, you come out cleaner and most of all stronger.

Maybe - just maybe - wiser

Focusing on self is essential. 

Selfish in an unselfish manner.

The process and processing is intimately personal. 

Rituals help.

Perhaps, we are born ready for heartbreaks after all.
Are we?

I am finding that I am lost. 
Frequently.
Both in the realisation and in the 'lostness'
Spaces I thrived in have morphed.

Those spaces adapted to being without me.

Nature abhors vacuums.

How do you reclaim your broken heart?

My re-entry is a sort of weirdness and awkwardness.

The awkwardness like in those situations when you walk out of a room, 
and someone sits where you were sitting.

Thinking you will not come back.

When you indeed come back, there is a minute of weirdness as you strive to re-own that space. 

That is what is happening to me. 

I am slowly coming to terms with that this is how the universe works.

This is how nature works. 

Nature abhors a vacuum

How do you reclaim your broken heart? 

If you abandon a building or space you had "colonised" for a while, nature takes over.

Weeds grow their tendrils.

Ants, insects, vectors, birds, ferns, bacteria take over.

They make it their home.

When you go back to that building wanting to resettle

You have to work to re-own what was once yours.

Cleaning it out.

Some times you can clean the entire building at once.

Or you can take your time. 

Clean it bit by bit.

That building is my heart, life, and emotions. 

I am cleaning room by room.
Nooks, crooks, crevices and spaces I thought I had cleaned are dirty and occupied.
I am learning cleansing. Healing. The Process.

And that it will take time.

It is a process. 

A shedding of skin.

How do you reclaim your broken heart?

It is hard work. 

To reclaim means to mend it first.
Make it whole. It is broken after all.
Fragments cleansed. Healed. Paste them together. Again.

You must try. 

You must. 

Lest you die. 

Of a broken heart.