What’s left of life?

Empty is the life of a romantic, dark is a life of a poet, blissful is a life with no dreams… Table for one, trip cut in half and memories kept in frames …
So tender when he does not expect it. Sensitive when he will not want it. His alarming heart warming masculine vulnerability. Raw and child like when he cries, uninhibited. The tight lines around his lips that shivered when kissed .. That shivered when in rage… That shivered when touched, only by the skin on the back of her hand. That smirk he is left with, when struck by her smell, when deep in his thoughts. Almost blushing almost feeling her breath on his neck almost tasting her again. His naked tender musky face in the morning. His bare skin glowing without him knowing only to be tucked in under a coat of street dust at the end of the day. Under a coat of sorrows. His fine wrists juxtaposed to his overworked hands. His head resting in his arms when weary. His hair slipping between his fingers. The way he thinks he is immortal. The way he crumbles in pain. The way she turned out mortal. Her trace in his bed, her trace in his life, the trace she left on his chest with her carefully planned kisses… The trace of her face fading with every moment his eyes find rest. Every time he shuts his lids on the memory of her smile. An eternal sense of betrayal with every morning that meets him. His hollow existence meets him. His bare skin meets him. The tyrannous intimacy of winter fault of the warmth of her touch leaves him in despair.
Empty is a life with no feelings, dark is a life with no love, even with the alarming heart wrenching vulnerability that follows …

I wear the gray pants laying carelessly on the dresser, a clean shirt, and the boots thrown in the back of the closet. My hair in a knot and some concealer to hide the marks of a night spent thinking of you.
I drink my coffee listening to the morning news; refill the cat plate and throw some papers together for work, carelessly…
I throw my coat on my chair, check my messages and run out to my eye exam. I am told my eyes do not relax enough and I laugh. I throw my reading glasses in my purse, carelessly and I pick up some lunch.
I sit under the sun and eat slowly, looking around me, carelessly. I make some appointments, hair … facial… I have an important evening coming up … without you …
I sit at my desk, I look at my screen, carelessly. I book my plans for the summer and make some phone calls. I let my hair down and I stare in the void.
What am I doing, here, without you?
You told me there is nothing that I cannot do but how come I cannot do this? How come I cannot forget you?
I call you …
I stop …
We did leave each other. This did happen but I cannot accept it.
I go back to work and I pass the time … I let the day go by in a daze of disbelief, just like the day before.
I let the day go by, carelessly, to go home and think of you. To go home and miss you silently and mourn, quietly …
This is too real. Too painful. Too great of a pain for me to handle.
Too real …
I lay down, helplessly and I close my eyes.
My eyes that cannot relax …
My tears warm up my pillow and i fall asleep ...
And I think of you …

From a distance ...

You caught me in the act. In the most devious act I committed. Why should I wonder how you know. How you always know. I project and you embrace. I explode in tone deaf words, no punctuations, no intonations and you put me back in order. You punctuate and i breathe. You are kept informed and i feel at ease. This is what you do. You bring order to my life. Time goes by and I get more short-breathed and you add calmer tunes to my episodes. You should have known by now. You should have understood that I am tired of your order. That for years gone by, I long for your voice coming unexpectedly through the night and waking me from my sleep. Your voice never comes unexpectedly. Your voice is allotted and your concerns studied and carefully delivered. It kills me. You know the first rain in New York. How wet leaves swaddle up the curbs and exposed guts of earth worms pave a nature disaster under your feet. I am rotting from within. My emotions are spread too thin. I am a prisoner of us. I am panting with ecstatic comfort chocking up with the known and dreading the unknown. I am pinned and I feel the heaviness. I embroidered the distance with stories not to let you drift. I flooded the hours with details and threw it all out. Fearing your estrangement, fearing that one day you will think you did not have all of me. You became a poet and drifted ever more. You drifted with your imagery and delved in your head. My love for you is not a projection of past events. My love cannot be studied and carefully delivered. Us. us? We cannot be a routine anymore. I need more. The Static is between us... The distance is suffocating ... The carefully planned silence is deafening ...

- Hello. Yeah did you hear that?
- I did but let me call you tonight and we’ll discuss it
- I’ll call you before bed. I’ll play our music as we talk tonight
- Later love …

I will not read you anymore ... I cannot read you ... I only have you from a distance

Another break (3anjadd)

April ... My favorite month :)

The Lebanese wave of shou fi ma fi moved to facebook.. Blogs are down it seems.
Le2ouna hounik. Zouzou ba3d fi inta masheftak.
Anyway, khbar about this blogger and some pictures are over there for now ...
Posting again after coming back from Lebanon, in few months, and after settling down and will tell you shou bisir.. Shifnekon ..