Saturday, 16 March 2013


Savage to have an experience of honeyed significance and to not know whether you are having it alone. Hard to maintain that defensive air of nonchalance when your heart is swelling and your chest is rising and a wind of sweetness just wants to spiral from your cells towards him. Did he think of me in the moments before, even the days before? Did he note the coincidental aspects of the timing that brought me into his path on that day? A sign, an omen, a connection.

Were his recited lyrics expressed with my soft heart in his mind? And if so, was it out compassion, a mere humanly kindness? Or something more resolved, deeper, lovelier? Hope makes me spiral and spin and I want to remain steady, focussed on my process of rejuvenation and renewal. Each question mark scribed above weakens me, pointless sacrifices of my energy and time. And I know now I can remain at this distance, and even further, from him, if I have to, if he loves another. So I quieten those thoughts and remind myself that in the end, I am helpless to change anyone else's feelings towards me. Thinking it, willing it, will not make it so. Better to throw my arms skywards, starbound, and embrace whatever comes my way, be it nothing, or it's delicious opposite. I suppose it might help if I were braver, let down my protective stance, drop my guard a bit. Habit now when you feel like you've probably already been shown the hand of an unrequited feeling, but your stubborn disbelieving soul won't accept it.

Writing comes easily to me after just snippets of time in his company. My unlikely muse.

Don't think on this any longer. Highly likely he's living happily ever after with a girl he loves. I know nothing of his life these days. Better I wander away for a bit, then wander back in when the time is right. Wayward girl, directions, many of them, to run in.

Monday, 4 March 2013


“Sound has a profound effect on the senses. It can be both heard and felt. It can even be seen with the mind’s eye. It can almost be tasted and smelled. Sound can evoke responses of the five senses. Sound can paint a picture, produce a mood, trigger the senses to remember another time and place. From infancy we hear sound with our entire bodies. Sound speaks to the sensorium; the entire system of nerves that stimulates sensual response.” ― Louis Colaianni, The Joy of Phonetics and Accents

Even in song his voice is abrasive, a decibel too loud, intrusive. As though the darkness, or emptiness, that I fear resides inside him is embedded within the waves of sound that transmit through the surrounding air and cause my body to tighten and shrink just a little more. As though he is trying to steal the space around me by occupying it with his laden tunes. The intensity of his personality is somehow transmitted through his songs, the frequencies that constitute his voice. How it irritates me his singing languages I have no knowledge of. Perhaps it is because I don't understand the meaning of his songs, I can gauge only by their sonic quality. I want to cover my ears, run from the sound, never hear it again. It is like everything he represents for me, to me, is distilled into the sound. Worse than strong fingernails dragging across a blackboard. I don't believe there is hatred in my heart for him, his behaviors have hurt me to be sure, but I imagine I can track back through the years of his life and find the origins of his toxic spreading moods. He's been subjected to experiences that have created these tendencies, which have grown over a soft neutral heart, and have multiplied unchecked over time. But the extent of my recoil to such a simple thing as his song makes me wonder about the nature of my feelings. Is there a wild power hungry creature inside my heart wanting to be set free to destroy her oppressor. I've dreamt of taking a sword and killing him, always death by hand wielded weapons it is, but thought these dreams were conjured symbolic gestures, not reflective of a true desire for violent restitution. Does his song contain some codified key that threatens to let the violence against him in my heart, free. Free to rage and rage against every unkind word he has said to me. Against his manipulations and emotional blackmail, his threats, recriminations, his silences, his dismissals, his temper, his suffocation, his heavy heavy love.

Sigh. It's not like I have the voice of an angel.