2 am musings

My state at 2 a.m. is blatantly not the best – my mind not the clearest, my fingers not the nimblest, my emotions not the stablest. Today’s piece is probably one of the most fragmented compositions I have ever made, but I’m not regretting it, at least not in this state of mind.

A close friend of mine is currently tangled in some emotional mess – relationships that weren’t meant to be, she said. His version of the story, of course, lamented the girl’s situation, showered her with compliments on the way with his sorrows. {Does it really matter who is who, or which gender pronoun is used in this? I pondered.}

{Does it really matter who is who, or which gender pronoun is used in this? I pondered.}

Would their love work regardless of the problems identified? Should practical concerns, like long distance, wacky Skype calls, periodic returns be of importance?

I certainly have no say nor the experience to say yes or no towards their decision to split – nor can I say for certain that the reason for splitting was an idiotic one. Afterall, who am I to judge?

She or he might meet up one day. On the streets. Under the casted shadows of the night. Probably he would be drunkenly stumbling. Maybe she would apologize and take a left to the caliginous space he never seemed to like. Maybe she would go pat him in the head again, just like old times. Maybe, maybe not. Who knows?

Hope is what he can grasp on tightly for now. Her hands enjoy the thorns of roses.

 

 

Trying to be poetic (2) – Tenses (1)

Some say there is nothing more heart-wrenching than the future.

Seeing you dissipate into the obscure crowd as people and time pull us apart; Tasting your frosty, bitter goodbyes; Hearing the screeching wind past us by as you took a step back; Letting go of your hand just like your heart has let go of me; Wondering if the warm California sun would melt away your frigid demeanor; Handing you a suitcase void of memories – as if you were the occasional tenant in someone’s life, leaving minor, almost imperceptible scratches on the wallpapers, tiny blotches on the furniture, a faint, lingering scent in the room; Questioning if you thought it was for the best, to clear up room for another occupant, perhaps a permanent one.