...

Her laughter was long and hard.
The kind that kept you up all night.
Dancing with words.
Constructing and reconstructing ways to hear her laughter again.

...

One day we will come back here.
To the place that we first met.
And it will be a painful kind of joke
That we thought we could last forever.

Because isn't that what love is?
Or lust or infatuation. Whatever you call it.
Isn't that what it is?
This immortal kind of hope.

Many Sweet Words

You are words.
You are many words.
You are many sweet words.
You are many sweet words I want to hear.
You are many perfectly timed sweet words I want to hear.

It's scary.
That you are words.
Because words can be fragile.
They build and they break,
But they can be fragile.
And they can be an outlet to your soul.
But they also camouflage.
And they change.
They are like liquid.
Conforming to the shape of context.

"I love you too"

So don't be words.
Darling,
I would say be actions.
But those can often be like words.
Natural chameleons.
I see what you show me.
I see what I want to see.

So darling, be glass.
Lay your soul on the table next to mine.
Let us see you.
Let me see you.
In all that you are not.
In all that you are.

Let me choose to love you.
Or choose to walk away.

Love Letter - My Sweet Poison

You.

Oh, you.

You are what keeps me up all night.

And I do not mean that I cannot sleep at night.

Wouldn’t that be easy?

If that was what lay heavily between us.

I mean you are the one that invades my unconsciousness.

You are my walls.

Against which the strengths of my character clash.

You are my thing

You are my thing that kills me.

You are my thing I think about when a line comes up in a movie.

You are my default shell.

The room I run into when life happens.

So why do I write to you?

Because I love you restlessly.

Without knowing what to do or how to show you.

I love you fiercely.

It’s a love that makes me want to give to you, the world.

I love you overwhelmingly.

It’s a love that builds me with joy and destroys me with worry.

So intensely that I want to heal every hurt you have suffered.

I want to pamper your mind, carry you through the future. That way, no hurt may come to you.

I love you.
My sweet poison, my delicious scar.

I love you.

Utterly. Ferociously. Relentlessly.

...

His lips tasted of liquor.
Mine, lime.
He was my poison.
I was his antidote.

To the strong, sorry, cool man/woman.

Soo I stopped writing my "inspiration" for my pieces cause I couldn't always explain "what led."
But this was inspired by the numerous emotions I have felt for the past few days and another piece I was going to put up tomorrow (might still) but felt it was too sad and was too revealing. So... here it goes.

First words:

“What did Santa say to the prostitute?”

“Umm….”

“Hohoho!” and she burst out laughing.

"You must remember that you are human. Before this world came to change you. To turn you into this oblivious robot you have become. Oblivious of how far you have traveled. You were, and still are, human.

And so it's okay to fall. And it is even more okay to be sad that you have fallen.

And it's okay to give your best to something, or invest all you have in someone and still fail.

And it is okay to love. To love something or somebody more than you should.

And it's okay to be confused.

And it’s okay to be overwhelmed.
And it's okay to want to take a break. And to take it.
And it's okay to cut yourself some slack. To realize that you may not be everything you want to be, but you are pretty awesome. 

And it's okay to not have a "passion"

And it's okay to acknowledge that you have lost. And that it upsets you, more than you can imagine.

And it's okay to not know how to let go.

And it's okay to have that thing that "kills" you.

And it’s okay to have no control over so many things that affect you.

And it's okay to acknowledge that something upsets you more than you think it should.

And it’s okay. It is important. To talk about it. To talk about all of it.

And it's okay, but even more, important to seek help.

The more important thing is to address and overcome.

The strong (or if you prefer, “cool”) man/woman isn't the man/woman who hides fresh wounds

The strong man/woman is the one who displays healed/healing scars.

Who gives people the chance to try to fix the broken, support the weak.

                            

And lastly, it's okay to be a work in progress.

Because we are all puzzles. And in the overwhelming façade that the world has become, it is easy to believe that some people have put together most of the pieces.

But quite honestly, 

No one has.”

Last “words”:          

“({})” – Blackberry Messenger “hug” smiley.

Actually, I think with this, I do not have to put up that post tomorrow.

In memory of Zainab Ayo Omolabi.
I love and miss you with emotions unvisited. 

I hope if there is such a thing as a second life, you choose life.

...

Because someone has looked into my eyes and has found the stars.
And it is a terribly exotic, exhilarating and frightening feeling.