remergingideas

[remergingideas]

Notting Hill-

I cannot say I have ever been,

But then, I imagine quite a wonder,

An adventure-first encounter,

Bookstore of infinite stories.

Why though does every sign point to you

And yet, I feel you have no clue who I am?

And in a way, I also have no clue on some elements of you.

Equally so-I feel I have known you my entire life.

Yet I wonder, how you shall feel.

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I recognized those deep eyes,

Penetrating my soul,

No objection to that piercing glare,

Venerating yet captivating,

Locking—caught in a web of intense ecstasy,

Forevermore linked, sadistic yet heavenly,

Freed to great lengths, absolute gold.

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June

California is a beautiful place. Breathtaking, even.

I stood on the beach and marveled at how amazing it all is. The cold waves tickled my feet and pulled me deeper into the sand, and pulled my heart out of my chest, oh so gently.

I gathered seashells, discarding the ones I deemed unfit for my collection. Broken, dull, small, plain.

Why though, were they not good enough - why did I carelessly throw them away?

They were made from the same ocean I fell in love with. x

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Curiously waiting patiently. I’ve waited years…(without actually waiting—if that should make sense.)

I now lie in bed, thinking to myself,

“Somewhere over the rainbow?”

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Karaoke and songs flash into my mind. Karaoke on the beach or in the jungle—swinging on vines much like Tarzan and Jane; the notion that I am so in love and some might say “hopeless romanticism,” but perhaps I shall rephrase and say it as “undying romanticism” as the nature of real life is it is in fact immortal. The element of “Star crossed lovers” who have not yet even met but somehow, I feel this deep burning ignited and want to run away to a castle where we can live happily ever after and I can’t explain it all. It’s a matter of show and tell, much like the joys of being your young childhood self and bringing in something special to school to share with your classmates and there is an underlying story. Eternal immortal love.

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What a beautiful yet sentimental photograph of looking into the mirror, not so much in an excessive vain way to point of demise but in a manner that is “in a state of searching and becoming.”

Or, it can also allude to seeing your other twin flame/soul and feeling so in love because it’s like you are meeting yourself but with a different depth and substance than before and, as Madonna says, “Express yourself.”

Express yourself plays as first song and then the story can be a motion editorial.

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Life Beyond...

People say it’s out there,

Practically dying to latch onto you,

Onto your arms and legs then spirit,

For adventure is surely calling,

Demanding you tie knots with the unreasonable,

And make way for better opportunities.

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Sleepless

He went through his contacts,

Phone up an open,

Realizing how he had changed.

Those spaces that some once filled—

Well, they needed new filling,

New faces to inhabit that vacated, desolate place.

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One thousands breaths

And then I see you,

Beautifully perfect,

How long I’ve waited

To be braced with your presence,

To feel as my finger brushes those rose-colored lips,

And as the seconds tick, I silence you,

To feel me as my lips touch yours,

Then kiss after kiss,

One thousand breaths.

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Haiku

Haiku,

It’s five lines, four syllables each?

Or is it eight lines, three vowels every word?

Aaah shucks, maybe it’s something else.

I forget, I forget.

I simply write.

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Eagerly waiting,

Anticipation, anxious even,

Like a child at Christmas,

Ready for their gift.

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Did they love each other then?

Wasn’t it a matter of foreign affairs?

According to sources, yes.

Oh so serene,

A love meant to be quieted,

Not so; instead, gossiped about.

One source knew,

Out flew information through the grapevine.

Are they being attacked?

Rumor is yes.

Rumors are so crude through.

Cuniving little devils,

Tearing apart before anything has truly begun.

What then will heal the pieces?

Whoever began it needs to repair.

How insanely difficult.

Difficult, yes. Impossible, no.

Every relation you see, is imperfect.

With a little work all sources will know.

They will know its place and strength,

A real, forbidden love, to be alive.

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Coyote

Night howl, crying to the moon.

A loud thunderous noise,

Sounding through the ears,

Sonorous, no silence,

Hear the coyote.