My room is full of dead flowers.
Death is more alluring than life.
No wonder people write about it so often.
Dry petals on the floor.
Why bother picking them up?
Why would I?
Who came up with this concept?
Flowers are to be thrown away when dried.
Who came up with this aesthetic?
Pour water in it.
It won’t come back to life.
But you already knew that.
With flowers you know that eventually it will die.
No matter what you do, it’s nature.
Sooner or later the circle of life kicks in.
The old leafs fall down and the new ones come out.
Sometimes it just dies forever.
Love does not work like that.
You go in, you hope it will last forever.
You keep pouring your heart in.
It does. Love does last forever.
But you have to keep picking flowers.
Not every rose is enchanted.
Fingers through your hair
Breathing the same air.
Eyes deep in mine
It’s just a moment in time.
Loving each other when no one else can.
Sooner or later it all had to end.
Meant to be is not necessarily forever.
Me and you was quite the endeavour.
Time has come to take our separate ways.
Promise to remember all of the days.
The days you were mine.
The days we were more than aligned.
I’m almost ready to say goodbye.
I can’t live anymore in a lie.
Please don’t make me cry.
I have been trying to put my feelings into words,
not realising that what I was listening to was
saying it already. It’s not as sad as it looks like.
I recently sent myself on a journey to explore
my connection with water, which I could try
explaining but it would take too long and will
only confuse you more.
I never thought a had a thing with water, which
is ridiculous since my body is 80% water. Then a
friend told me that a negative connection is also
a sort of connection. I never looked at it in this way.
You know the phrase ‘like a fish out of water’?
I am like a fish out of water in water.
I can’t swim. I won’t drown. But not any better in it than a dog.
I can float, sort of. And I just let the current take me.
You are like crab, moving two steps to the right, then
one to left, so you never really get anywhere. I would
say it doesn’t matter if we were on the same wave,
then your steps would’t count. But you are still on the
beach while I am already in the deep.
You are like a jelly fish, which I want to catch but then
my hand would slip on your surface. I give up and try
to walk away and then your tentacles wrap around me.
You are mostly like a shark. Minding your own business,
quiet and far away. Until you taste that taste of blood and
appear. Unlike other sharks you spice me up and only
take a small bite.
Pain. And then I never see you again.
This thing I read the other day is completely
stuck in my head and boy, I have questions
and need to discuss. “The way you love is not
necessarily the same way other people love.”
Very simple and obvious but we, or maybe its
only me, seem to forget it all the time. Especially
when I am not loved the way I expect, I can
make it very difficult for myself.
I was always ready to be in love. Like literally
always. And I’ve been there. So often, I don’t
remember each and every one of them.
Back to the ways of loving. Question #1:
How long does it take before you realise you
are loved but just not in the way you know or
expect? Can you accept it? Should you accept
it? Even though real love does not ask questions,
lets not fool ourselves, there are questions.
So when do you draw the line and evaluate?
Or do you?
When do you accept the differences and how
many are allowed?
Passion over everything or not?
I am always ready to fall in love. Being ready
doesn’t mean I want to. Sometimes I want to
but they don’t. But it doesn’t matter how much
you want to, they don’t call it carefully sitting
down next to love but fucking falling in it.
So go ahead. Fall. I need to stand up first.