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the post:

I won't ever understand why those with the biggest hearts always end up being treated like sh*t.

and the comment:

Pardon the philosophising, but I think the people with the biggest hearts are more sensitive to ill treatment, not necessarily more prone to being treated negatively. It hurts but it is also a gentle reminder to be cautious about one’s own wellbeing and not just others. This sensitivity is also only possible because of the strength of those with the biggest hearts to know when to look out for others and how everything they do can have a positive or negative effect on others. Even if it means feeling hurt a few more times than others, you can be reasonably sure that you’ve also lifted people up from darkness more than those with not quite so big hearts as yours. Chin up lovely.

I was neither the poster or the commenter, but I can relate to the poster and want to give the commenter the biggest high five and/or hug. I hope you feel the same.

connect the silence

connected by more than words can define,
connected by ties between our divine,
blessed by more than 5 lucky dimes,
blessed by your presence,
without being by my side,
I keep you at a distance,
loving you inside.

leave you

leave you.

I never understood the saying “love you and leave you” until I gathered the courage to finally expunge you from the realm that existed only in my head… the only remnant of you that prevailed beyond time and space and reason and rhyme.

In reality, you haven’t been in my life for much longer than you were ever in it, but the heart has different plans, and different levels of attachment. The strings that fasten my heart to your fictitious memory were just as tangled as my memory of you was warped.

Unlike the commonly applied stigma of a ‘first love’, I did love you unconditionally, and without prejudice. And although I would un-do everything that I had with you for the sake of my own state of mind, that isn’t an option, neither is my continued love for you. The choice I do have is to leave you, to disentangle myself from your memory, to detach my association to your entity and destroy the fabricated image that has haunted my subconscious since the day you walked away.

You already know you were loved, now consider yourself left.


[24/01/12]

we eat pomegranates differently

misplaced love breeds misplaced hate, 

at the end of the day they're one and the same,

when fascination subsides, reality overrides, 

is it too late to change how we operate?

you squeezed your way in, then rolled away, 

leaving a trail of lost moments and memory replays,

I downplay your importance, to match your nonchalance, 

aware that I could elevate you to heaven with no regrets,

but its the wrong place to invest, and it's no time to confess, 

you leave me a mess because you can't see that you're blessed

clap me in iron, leave me in chains, 

lock me in solitary, I'd still feel the same

I miss you most days, it's always this way, 

but one moment of sentiment breeds ten of regret

we seem to be going down different paths, 

but I want to believe that this is because

you know where you are going and I’m still lost.

"Just because we don't talk doesn't mean I don't think about you. 

I'm just trying to distance myself because I know I can't have you."**

words and their worth i have come to doubt,

unfinished half-truths leaving questions unasked,

the lines between saying more than I mean,

words no longer used to portray what is real

I poured out my heart and all I heard

was the echo of your laugh

we ate pomegranates differently,

but your indifference let us fall apart

** Wiz Khalifa

We must learn.

It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and therefore loving, for a long time ahead and far on into life, is: solitude, a heightened and deepened kind of aloneness for the person who loves. 

- Letters to a young poet 

I realised

When my trust hung from the thin thread of justice
And the hearts of my lamps were smashed into tiny pieces all over town
And the childlike eyes of my love were blindfolded with the black kerchief of law
When blood was gushing forth from the anxious temples of my desire
When my life was nothing other than the ticking of the clock
I realised that I must love
That I must madly love.

This is an excerpt from the poem “Window” (1967) by Forough Farrokhzad, translated by Farzaneh Milani from the Persian.

A thing called..

                     There was a time
                There was a place
          But there was fear inside
                A witty line to save my face

                                             The parachute of pride.

          To cross a line, takes a tiny step
               But will this spark, 
                    cause the bridge to burn?
                         My fear entwined with my regret

                                             I beat a path of safe return.







(Lyrics: Above and Beyond - A thing called love)

Rainer Maria Rilke

"For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks... The work for which all other work is but preparation."

Heart (e)scape

With the natural progression of time,

we went our separate ways,

even if that meant you pushed me left,

then ran to the right,

leaving no trail to follow, 

After much hesitation I had no choice,

I continued on the path you set,

but my heart left a lingering path,

needing only a sign to sling-back,

double over, return like a boomerang.

For too long my heart waited,

but like bait never bitten, 

it lost its scent,

it lost its strength,

the trail faded away.

My heart is mine again,

it no longer lays at an angle,

waiting for its escape,

it settled back into its cavity,

allowing the blood to flow,

beating returns to regularity,

freeing me from any entanglements.

Artist: S. Rouhani

How, or when, or from where.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms,

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.

Thanks to your love a certain fragrance,

risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where "I" does not exist, nor "you,"

So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda

Image: Source