love-or-thelackthereof

[love-or-thelackthereof]

10 years from now, i won’t have a mansion or a house with a pool. i’ll leave that to my sisters. instead, i’ll have a small apartment, so you can hear someone scream from across the place, because that way i’ll feel like i’m not really alone.

10 years from now, when my sister is making it big in a metropolitan city, i won’t be roaming a fancy downtown. instead, i’ll live in a town near the beach where i know everyone’s name, and the old man running the cafe nearby knows my exact order. the waves will be loud enough to give me company all night, and i’ll talk back to them about her. my apartment will be made fuller with an assortment of wine bottles from late night outs now made full with memories and the echoing laughter of people, along with scattered notebooks that are heavy with late night ramblings. 10 years from now, i’ll make it a point to have guests over at least once a week, and to talk to everyone i meet at the bar nearby. i’ll host my friends whenever they travel to my town, offering only the best home cooked food and the finest whiskey, to accompany only the finest conversations. the space will be decorated with frames of all the people i love, and the walls will have less and less empty space as the years go by. and when my sisters come home in tears telling me that they think they’ve failed, i’ll have the comfiest couch ready with hot chocolate from switzerland and bad bollywood movies on tv and i’ll tell them that life isn’t an exam, they can’t fail something that no one knows how to pass at all. in 10 years time, when i have collected a million little postcards from a hundred little places, i will live in a small apartment with my best friend, and it will run on electricity and the way her smile lights up the room when she tells a bad joke.

[love-or-thelackthereof]

You’re laying in my arms in your car, windows down, as cigarette smoke makes its way from my mouth to yours. You taste of fruit in the summer, and your neck smells of the first rain when i kiss it. I want to call out to you, ask you what you know about eve and her scandalous apple. Funnily enough, I want to tell you that in my dreams you come to me in eve’s clothes, poisonous fruit in hand. Your palm makes its way to my lips, opening my mouth wide, I don’t rebel when you feed me the fruit, one tender bite at a time. What if I wanted to tell you that with each passing morsel I’m becoming more aware of the sin swallowing us whole, but right now I can taste the apple raw on my tongue right besides your fingers and the juice dribbles its way down my neck until I feel you lick it away so tell me god what does sin mean to someone who found their way to heaven in the flesh of another human, what does sin mean to someone who just learned the meaning of love?