if you ask me who i am now, i will tell you that i am the wilting rose you forgot to water and the last leak of orange light vanishing across the horizon as the sun sets. i am the lightning streak and thunder bolt i have learnt to fear, hate and admire all at once, the lonely in the night and the silence as the dawn breaks. a candle flame flickers in the far off distance, and i am as quiet as the solitude allows me to be; firecrackers bursting in the palm of my hand and in the core of my heart.

the memories where your voice sings to me sound like gunshots now, bullet wounds ripping the fabric of my soul to shreds. it occurs to me that without you i am a ghost of the person i once was, static electric current sparking on the surface of my skin. heated words laced with anger and bitter hurt are spun forth carelessly in seamless strings, blanketing over every rational thought now that you are a permanent absence in this fleeting life. it seems the longer you have vanished, the deeper i fall - into the crevices and cracks of a trap you lay for me, vulnerable and susceptible to your charms and the past where you still stay, immune to the ever changing currents of time and the present.

i have loved and i have lost, but none have created a wound as deep as you.

(A.H.Z)

this is you living when you are standing beneath the vast expanse of ocean blue sky, under winter white clouds; hands in the air and wind in your face. the mountain is cold but you are warm and the moon is up even though the sun still shines. heavy breaths don't mean anything here, not when you're at eye level with the sky and every step on ground is the same as flying in the air. the sky and you are one, breaths mingling and every atom in your being - zillions and trillions of them - a part of the canvas that paints our planet with the light that is the sun and moon, the lanterns that are our stars. as you are still and the voices blur in the background, with your arms high and laughter ringing; a smile creeps onto your face, slow and sly like the waning curve of the pale moon.

this is you living when there are two children in your arms and the gentle pull of their hands against your arms along their torsos sparks the love in your tired heart. it is their innocence and their smiles that ignite your ***** into working again, the steady pulse growing stronger with every hug and memory. they tell you they love you and will miss you always, and then you realise there is nothing like falling in love all over again, and as you wave goodbye you know that love will always hurt you, but it is always worth suffering for.

this is you living when you are on the road trip of your life with the people you have come to love, in a little van with cream coloured seats and tinted glass windows; screaming at the top of your lungs to the constant beat of the house music that blasts fervently in the background, only because your driver secretly believes he owns a portable club. there is dancing and singing and repeated laughter, hands and heart abandoned to the winding roads of this new and foreign country that already feels like home. trees and buildings and scenery flies past the windows and when the door opens at every stop, others gape and only wish they were where you are.

this is you living when you are on the plane ride home and there are continued drops and shakes and little quakes that make others faint. you are an exception to this rule, a grin on your face and sparks in your eyes at the excitement of it all - because when you're flying above the clouds it feels free and you feel alive. living. actually being. and in that moment, all these things come together and you realise this is it. this is everything you've wanted and everything you thought could never happen but happened anyway. and despite the heartache and the brokenness that lingers in the corners of your soul, this is the part in your existence that makes you glad that you still exist, that you are breathing and here and alive.

this is how to live, and i will live it all.

(A.H.Z)

I don’t know how to explain that here I love and love and love with all I am and everything in my heart but I am still, endlessly, not enough. I am the fire you forgot to put out and the words you left unspoken and eventually slipped your mind. I am trying my hardest and I am falling so fast and so high.

-

You keep things inside your head, you keep things inside your heart. Nothing makes sense anymore, but you know one thing - is that you will love even when there is nothing left to love and nothing left of yourself. You will gather the memories and entangle them together in broken figments of shattered time frames and convince yourself this was how it was meant to be, that you were supposed to be.

You will tell yourself that you will be okay even though you are not, and you will believe it.

(A.H.Z)

"you're beautiful"*
compliments slip so easily
rolls off the tongue
gliding; passing phrase

you say it enough till i begin
to believe it as much as you
want me to believe you
and i do, i do, i did
naive and foolish and as
broken as the day he left me

but you are a replacement, a shadow,
a puppet who took the place
of the boy i used to and still love
mere illusions of a past time
the heart grasps these empty sheets

oh hear!
dead silence when
the symphony stops
***** keys shatter; dull ringing
silence fills the space where
late night murmurs once were

for you see, sticks and stones
may break these hollow bones
but words will always devour
and destroy me

(A.H.Z)

I have had this exact same song on repeat for 7 times, only because I bother to count and I think it is a beautiful, wonderful number (second only to 15 but that is a story for another time). I tie my dead knots 7 times and count the seconds before I fall asleep that eventually add up to 7 too, a little number that trails behind me like a reminder of a blessing; exactly how amazing it is to be alive sometimes and all the time.

I'd like to point out that you can't exactly be alive all the time in every sense of the word, because physically existing on one metaphysical plane and slumbering in the soul and emotional metaphysical plane does not account for actually living. Most of the time I am hibernating in myself; a plane shifting mess of tangled emotions, and other times I am numb. It is the type of numbness that penetrates and envelops everything that a person is, was, and ever will be.

Today is one of those days.

-

If you were here you would point out that it is interesting that I am not like other girls and do not follow the 10 cm rule concerning boys and dating (to which, you would also add a wink and a knowing smile, simply because we both know you are attracted to me as I am to you because we are separate from the normality in life) but count the times that 7 and 15 appear in my life despite being absolutely terrible at math. You have - and always have - prided yourself in being the only person successful at eliciting a response from me in moments where I withdraw myself from the world, your hands finding mine, your gaze resting on me. And you know this, to some extent. You know how much our existences depend on each other, how some people were destined to meet and never be the same again.

I have doubted a lot of things in this life, but the one thing I have never doubted is my endless affection for you.
-

"You're exasperating," I say, with a roll of the eyes. "I don't know how anyone puts up with you."

You grin in response.

"But you do."

(A.H.Z)

there are seas beneath this skin
tempest roar, crashing waves
soul drowning in empty lungs
stills; only trying to find a way home

some days my heart treads water
and watches the sky rise and fall
some days my heart simply sinks
drowning to the ocean floor

shot core and bullet wound
misery plays your ribcage
like a xylophone duet for two;
past ghosts skim down the spine
raising fears and forgotten time
darling, there was never any me and you

and the thoughts they overwhelm
the image; reflection -  
i have hated, i have loved
the person i have become
standing still at the breaking point
a quiet symphony of self, within solitude

if tears are the language
in which we speak
now forever more cry
or forever hold your peace

see, no matter what i say
i am as fragile, i am as broken
as the day you first tried
to rescue me from
myself, myself, myself

(A.H.Z)

I reckon every day is another page, another chapter to the storybook of your life. Some people have every sheet numbered in neat chronological order or categorised according to A-Z, while others are blank pages waiting to be filled, waiting for words to come. Occasionally there are stories that have been left unfinished, tragic end or dire fate, and there are those that end in the quiet melody of unsung heroes.

Of all the life stories in the world, mine is fragile at the spine, paper thin and translucent. The ink is splashed across several pages, words intelligible and smudged with tears; blood stains dotting the edges. There are countless tales that lurk beneath the binding, and even more lives entwined with mine. You, for instance, pressed thorns between the pages of the book that is my life, leaving flowers wilting amongst the splotched ink words and tears in the paper. It is funny, because only when you look back do you realise that nothing would ever be the same if you didn’t exist.

I am older now, the accompaniment to the author that is destiny and fate, overseeing the paths I am to take, the people I still have yet to meet, the places I will go. There is no promise of calm ahead, and with every recollection there are flashes of hurt and pain, of times when my heart was torn apart at the seams, shattered beyond recognition. Despite this I continue on, the naive hope that things will get better and that I will recover, lingers in the core of my soul; sparking a new hope down to the ends of my fingertips.

And while page after page is filled with cutouts and photographs of the memories I have had, none will ever shine as bright as you.

-

"When you’re here it’s like the sunrise, and when you leave it’s like the sunset."

(A.H.Z)