Welcome to my creative space
V. It’s not about you, Never been, never will be. I know you secretly wonder if I was the same way with him, Yes. Worse. But for you, I tried, To unpeel myself from the wall, Etched in closer till our personal space overlapped. I practiced hugs which weren’t identical to two sumo wrestlers coming …
IV. I guess if I wasn’t so broken, I would enjoy hugs. They’re sickeningly invasive, uncomfortably restrictive. A gesture which intellectuals should have eradicated years ago. Yet, it’s oddly satisfying...for half a second. But for you, I endure. A.
III. If you promise to hear me out, I’ll explain, Why emotional responses are unhurried. Why I’m numb and expressionless initially. Truth is, I’m not cold. It just takes me time to recollect all my memories of similar incidents I’ve encountered, In movies, tv shows, novels and friends. I sift through the emotions they expressed, …
Continue reading "Living With An Emotional Deficiency – III"
II. I’m not heartless, Just fighting my demons. Just hurting and healing, And healing and hurting. Just stuck in this vicious cycle of hope and helplessness, Yet, I remain expressionless. Get me out of here. A.
I. How best can I explain, That I struggle with vulnerability, Like people struggle with addiction. There are days I cry about my inability to connect, About ‘dismissal’ being my immediate response. I hurt when my body jerks back once in contact with another, Knowing it is impossible for mammals to survive without body contact. …
I once created literary art, With blood drawn from my broken heart. The words flowed endlessly, How could it not? With an abundance crimson fluid gushing out uncontrollably, As the cracks in my poor love centre elongated. Because of this, I was declared a lyricist in her prime. But I have watched my creativity sublime, …
You try to be the best I’ve ever had, But that doesn’t take much effort. You don’t know that, And I’ll never mention it. Not my experience with abuse, Not the insecurities bound to oxygen, flowing through my veins. I’m afraid you’ll be inspired, Afraid you’d come up with new methods of breaking my heart, …
According to physics, roses are red, Just like the skies are blue. But blue isn’t just the warmest colour, It’s your favourite colour. And oud amber isn’t just the sultriest smell, It’s your signature scent. Your aura, your being, My memories still alive and breathing. How can I lay in bed without thinking? With stars …
It’s the first time in a long time But I feel lonely again Like my soul has escaped my body In pursuit of you, of anybody Willing to love me I feel empty. Like the surrounding spirits evaporated Leaving me unsheltered from the cold Unable to hold down my own I feel helpless. Like my …
Creativity encompasses my very existence, It’s my escape. My version of passive resistance, Because the world would never be enough for me. And so I find myself elongating emotional encounters, Enunciating each syllable of each word within each sentence, To ensure it sounds better, feels better. Maybe if I manage to pick apart each segment, …
