(no subject)
Sometimes when no one's home and my brother is away on a trip I like to lie on his bed and watch the shadows sketching past the ceilings,remember being afraid of those dark things before I saw the beauty in the consequences light makes. Last night I did the same, I slept in his bed while he was gone and felt how he'd feel like after a long day, spine curving into the soft bed; where it sinks in the middle- all his thoughts and inhibitions collect in that small pool in his otherwise muted tongue. My tongue is fire but his is all ice, everything that wants or needs to be said is like water under a frozen lack, trapped under ice; knocking. Yet he keeps it all within as if it were second nature, he appears all winter but his heart burns with the brightest summers compared to the rest of us. I always wondered how he could remain so silent. I lay in his bed and felt so small again, he's gone to the airport again and the rest of the days will be quieter by his absence. His very being speaks, therefore words are unnecessary. The bed seemed to loom large as I shrink to pellet sized, and I wondered if anyone could see me if I were on the verge of disappearing,wondered about everyone I loved who were no longer here at home, in Singapore. Wondered where all the blackness in my photographs came from five years ago.
I thought about the words you said to me last night- cold blinking ipad screen and hot tears-for us it's always a game of temperates as I always lose. I mean this in a good way; when we fell in love I felt like I truly found Love, it was not merely you loving me and I thinking I loved you back, as the case is for so many people. Our love is like- I wanted to write about our love but I find myself trapped in the incompleteness of my own words- I cannot describe our love and I cannot even begin to fathom why I attempted to. Even though you're gone again, someplace faraway, where you can't reach me for days,I don't feel the same bitterness anymore, instead a calmness, one I have learnt from my brother, that it is sometimes good to learn the act of being wintry, lest a storm breaks out in your heart.
I thought about the words you said to me last night- cold blinking ipad screen and hot tears-for us it's always a game of temperates as I always lose. I mean this in a good way; when we fell in love I felt like I truly found Love, it was not merely you loving me and I thinking I loved you back, as the case is for so many people. Our love is like- I wanted to write about our love but I find myself trapped in the incompleteness of my own words- I cannot describe our love and I cannot even begin to fathom why I attempted to. Even though you're gone again, someplace faraway, where you can't reach me for days,I don't feel the same bitterness anymore, instead a calmness, one I have learnt from my brother, that it is sometimes good to learn the act of being wintry, lest a storm breaks out in your heart.