If they asked how I have come to know you, I would simply say you grabbed my attention the same way the sun rays reflect on the rear view mirror. The perpendicular incident where I am reminded that I had forgotten my eye glasses. You bothered me the same way the climate climbs and dilate every pore on my skin. I perspire in your presence, I leak as I walk beneath you, and you always take what's mine. But I enjoy you in the evenings, when every thing around you is more like a highlight than a definition, and as I walk you would kiss the spots where my skin is exposed with your crisp air. That's how I know what love is, like tamino once said, "a perfect time, to have a bottle of wine"

As time passes by, you start feeling loss in subtler ways. You don't usually cry your eyes out like the earlier stages (though sometimes you do). You just crumble inside a little over the littlest things. Like this simple sentence your friend says, "My dad is coming to visit me tomorrow." yeah, grief is weird like that.

@preenzordeal

Permission for a limb enclosure?

Much needed, thank you.

A quote I found on Pinterest

I went to a place where the flies hide out when it rains
The sleet so ever glib
With its precise unkindness
Displayed the art of eroding
That's when I decided to let my pen make love to my paper
As the rain droplets smear my words with their distorted spherical perfection
I thought of all the times I hid from my pain
And then I though of all the times where it found me laying unconscious
I never liked expressions, or the warm embrace of allegory
But little did I know how addicted I am to it
How a simple distruction on my pages would force me to run and hug the toilet seat
I wonder how I got to this point
I woke as if I was beaten insensible, but I believe they mistook me for someone else.
@preenzordeal

It is on days like this, days when it seems like I have kissed my future goodbye, when it seems like I permanently buried my dreams under a million feet grave, that I feel your absence the most.

Perhaps, if we had met during the day, I wouldn't have mistaken the gleam in your eyes for understanding and told you my whole story. If we had met when the sun was high in the sky, you wouldn't have been able to hide your true intentions and I would have known you to be the imposter you are. Or perhaps, I would have been too infatuated with you, and would have trusted your pretty words no matter the time of the day. Maybe I am just blaming the darkness to make myself believe I couldn't possibly be that foolish.
I guess we are similar in the way we both lie, and play me for a fool.

@preenzordeal

If I tell you I love you, it means my confidence in you is such that come hell and brimstone, I know you will never leave me. Perhaps that's why I don't say that three word sentence to many people, even those that deserve to hear it badly. I fear I've relied in this defense mechanism too long that, even when I say the words they taste sour to my tongue and sound fake to my ears. But then, I get this overwhelming urge to let the special people in my life know just how much they mean to me, I usually pushed it down when it came to you. I never told you how much I loved you (even if I did, I didn't do it enough). I doubt if even my actions conveyed the place you held in my heart, and for that I am sorry.

Perhaps if we meet in another universe, in a kinder life, I will try to make it up to you.

@preenzordeal

What do you do when you fail to fulfill a promise to someone who isn't here to hear your apology? It is simple really, you take a really long walk.

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I hate to see u leave us...

I remember you telling my mom it will be hard on her to do all this alone. At that time, I couldn't understand the magnitude of your words, the way the realisation seemed to physically weigh you down. Now, I see how true your words are in the stoop of my mother's shoulder, in the hurt in her eyes everytime she finds something amiss. It would kill you all over again to see how much she misses your support, how much she needs your shoulder to lean on. I used to only listen to my pain, always missed you for my own selfish reasons. But these days, I miss you for her too. I miss you for all of us.

- I feel your absence in my mother's lonely eyes

@preenzordeal

"There is only a fine line between love and hate"
Whenever I see you, my body gets in a fight or flight mode. All I want to do is run away from you... Or to you. You have scarred my heart in several places and healed it in so many others, that it doesn't know what to feel for you anymore.
"Love comes in different languages, and yours is fluent in pain".
Your hands are like a masseurs, they have brought me to ecstasy multiple times. But at the same time, they are like a cruel torturer in the ways they have bruised my body. I no longer understand the burning in me when you are near, is it hate or love? Do I want to push you away or pull you closer?
"The opposite of love isn't hate, it is indifference"
I've felt multiple things for you over the years, they are all jumbled in my heart now. But if I were to analyse them one by one, and root out their secrets, I doubt indifference would be one of them. You are like the cigarettes I sometimes smoke, I pull you in knowing you will turn my insides into ash.
"Sometimes, love isn't enough.."
Your eyes try to keep me in place as I turn to walk away, your hands itch to hold me back like they have done countless times. But you do none of those things, because you always knew you can't keep me with you if I made my mind to leave. I give you my back so you can't see how conflicted I am. I take a step, and then some more. I leave, knowing I can never feel nothing for you. I leave, knowing I can't wait for you to change. I leave, finally choosing to put myself first.

@preenzordeal

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Part I

Pricy Adam apples, M thought, as she stared unto the wax-varnished apples at the store. Perhaps a home for a humble worm who knew nothing of the food market. M has always stood on the line between naivety and kindness. As the fine line wobbles with each steps she takes, uncertainties throws grenades. What a harsh war it is, to wedge it unto one's self.

Her Speculation goggles pin pointed Drew, a figure of vase that served as a vessel for a mad man. A man whose cartilage was decorated with luminous stones as some type of offering to the gods. He would tilt his head to the side, and blow out the hair from his face.
"Ugh!" He would exclaim, and blow it away again as if he is preping a bonfire for cold nights ahead.

M, with her braided hair, and firm curls, would lean to the side and gaze at him through the strands of hair that escaped from her loose bun, the fugitive strands she couldn't possibly blow away. A spy, a good disguise. But her peaked interest didn't interest her. Her curiously didn’t  faze her. He was merely a shiny coin on the ground she would pass by with no thought of ever picking it up. M was raised better than that, and by better she thought of the  red angry stripes  that  was printed by her father's expensive belt on her skin the night she picked up the red leaf paper from her mother's backyard. M the little thief. M the undeserving. M who bought cherry  Popsicles after school. M who now hates the taste of cherry.

Memories gorges unto M's skin like angry pimples, and much like undeclared wars it perplexed her. If one could forget how to walk,she believed one could crowl. Drew, M whispered externally. His pretense of confidence baffled her. He would call out her name, slurring the two letters. Two letters dead, from her name. No flowers, no apologies. M has no regard for secure people. She well knows she doesn't stand a chance.

@preenzordeal

I feel like a form of art whenever you kiss me; my skin a canvas, and your lips a brush. You worship me with your eyes so much so that I feel more beautiful than I probably am. Your touch feels like a form of oxygen my soul has been depraved of for so long. You make loving me look so easy, as if it is a skill you were born with. Whenever we are holding hands, I feel like I have found something I would never want to let go of. It is like God burrowed a space in my soul exactly shaped like yours and I was never complete without you.

@preenzordeal

"Ah how lucky you are, child" the old woman said to the young boy, "Not to know the pain of missing someone to the point of madness, the pain of searching for someone that is no longer there for you to find."

@preenzordeal