The drive to work

A ray of sunshine filtered through the broken window and a tiny corner was lit up.

It was a room I saw in passing. Stuck inside a cab, waiting for the signal to turn green, I got a peek into what would have been someone's home. What had the walls heard and seen? Had the roof felt the rattle of laughter? Had the beams sagged under someone's sorrow? Pale blue walls, trimmed white wooden window frames... they evoked a fairy tale. The lopsided photo of a forgotten God next to a framed picture of a local hero balanced the scale between faith and fame.

The cab began its sluggish march towards my destination.

I turned one last time. To memorize the broken orange and blue buckets piled outside the dismantled door. A used pail of paint and rusty ladder, attempts at fixing a home.
Symbols of lives lived, probably mean an attic full of memories to someone.

We move along. An urchin with a snotty nose and the eyes of an imp catches my attention.

A story everywhere.

Allowed

You cannot love her

Like you love a human child he said.
You will get your life back
Once she is gone she said.
He said, she said
And not one
Was hearing what the heart said

She was already love

She was already mine
In giving her up
I gave up something vital
Precious. Pure
She broke my walls
And snuck right through
Giving her up
Broke me
But I am not permitted
To mourn
Not for too long anyway
Because she was not a human
And I am not allowed to love her that much

Safety Nets

He took me on a roller-coaster ride

And just when we reached the top

He jumped the carriage

Leaving me alone and hanging

From the highest point

She came by then

And put a stop to the whining self pity

If he can jump she said, so can you

So, I listened. I jumped. I flew into friendship

And I have never flown higher

Eye of the beholder

I wish you could see
What a picture you make for me
Perfection in your blemishes
Beauty in chaos

A beaming blossom
Minus a petal or two
Radiant with colour
Emotions of every hue

You are joy
You are power
Incomplete yet whole
My flawed flower.

The new and the shiny

I wonder sometimes

About some people I have met in the past few years

Would they have been mine?

Would I have been theirs?

Would we have had a similar understanding?

Of the ups and downs of life back then

Would we have sat on the platform

And counted local trains by the hour?

Would we have roamed the roads

Hours after everyone was in bed?

Would we have sung sad songs aloud

When one of our hearts got broken?

Would we have climbed a tree

To escape a bunch of people we annoyed?

Would we have got drunk on Benadryl

And thrown up on each other’s shoes?

Would we have cried in the rain

When death took away a loved one?

Would we have sat by the sea and held hands

To try and hold time back?

Would we think we would be together

Through time, distance, relationships?

I will never know

But I think, not.

Only because we are not what we were

Maybe these friendships are more

Because they carry the memory of youth

And the flavour of a life lived.

I can never be theirs

They would never be mine

Not all the way

But they bring colour to life

These new people

They make the journey better

And maybe, right now

Is when we were meant to be

So we could be.