Viking Girl Scribbles

the moon above our heads  she smiles as your hand briefly touches mine  walking through empty streets in a city that never sleeps  I want, no need, to tell you of my feelings  the tremors, dizziness and breathlessness  how my heart is filled with only you  ( is it that way for you too? )  the content smile is plastered onto my face my eyes never linger for too long  at least not when I think you’re looking  I’ll never grow tired of watching you ( the way you run your fingers through your hair )  a late night coffee and écalirs  you use your thumb to wipe cream from the corner of my mouth  ( you kill me a little every day )  they all adore you  but I love you  ( do you care for me, a little at least? )  you have a secret smile  crazy jealousy demands I find out who it’s for  it lives on you lips as you doodle on your napkin  I sit on m...

I don't want to be a Juliet to be forced to sit at a window waiting for you to return from your exile I don't want you to be a Romeo to stab yourself through the heart if I'm no more a part of your world I don’t want us to be star-crossed lovers to burn brighter than a thousand suns only to be reduced to ashes 

Here I am, standing right in front of you, in the dark. Multicoloured lights swirling in the smoke above our heads, I can no longer hear the music. Your whispered words are all that echo in my head, broken record on repeat. How could you say all those things, almost promise me the world, when you know seem to have forgotten all about me. Her arms around your neck, your words for her only, ignorant of others dancing. Do you remember when last we met, your thumb caressing my jawline and I knew how deeply, desperately in love I was, though I never told you. My carefree laugh fooled you, I think, into thinking what we had was only skin deep. How cleverly I hid all my bruises, concealing every time my heart broke because of you. She releases you, drifting apart, her hand on your arm, then she is gone. Triumphant you look around, meet my eyes, move towards me. I see you speaking to me, I still can't hear anything but your soft spoken word...

the buzz of other people music on the radio crappy reality tv-shows surfing the web during the small hours always up for anything never spending my lunch hour alone laughing with my friends speaking with strangers on the train writing cheerful blog posts interacting with family and friends on social media making new friends smile, smile, smile constantly fighting for breath more makeup to hide my tear streaked face infinite number of coffees to balance insomnia ignoring this empty space you left in my life

In the early morning light As you sleep by my side I think of everything we have The endless possibilities And the paths we chose Lives played out in my mind All of them with you 

Snow-blind between the galaxies. I bend space-time to be close to you. But my water isn't enough for your desert to flower. They speak to me. With red-colored lips they explain the laws of physics. My lipstick isn't red enough and I don’t have bright blue eyes. Mine are as green as the forest I would plant for you. If you’d ever let me plant a forests. I rage. Overflow. You wait patiently. Knowing nothing can defeat the desert. Your indifferent heat burns me. More than that time I reached into the sun. You know they come with lies and toxic gases. Still, you let them touch you. Your skin is tight over your chest. Gold and copper. They leave greasy imprints all over your skin. Desert winds and sand scrape you clean. Hurting my cheek. There are no longer any obstacles. Trips take seconds. The air is heavy with the scent. I want to be one of the nomads. Riding through your desert. My water would give me free passage. I know. It’s not the water of life. The only truth my water ...

your skin against mine is the only thing I dream about and I wish that the night was twice as long as the day. inside these four walls, time has stopped, it's your breath mixed with mine that's the only sound, the only thing that tells us that somewhere else the sands of time run against the inevitable end. beneath my lips you taste of ambrosia, nectar of the gods and I whisper them thanks, they allow me to feel you. my fingers learn your lines, read the braille on your back, draw new boundaries. awake and dreaming, the only thing I know is my skin against yours. 

the electronic giggles and tears and the love make up strong friendship

honey, why am I so cold? it’s about that one second. before the flame in the other’s eyes flickers and dies. that last moment of true heat. before the polar ice takes over. there in twilight. before the sun sets that last time. hope lives. an intoxicating illusion. that it isn’t over. not yet. we’ll never reach the end you and I.

 we meet every Sunday. sitting on the sofas at the back. drinking coffee and taking turns reading out loud from The Waste Land . he whines about writer's block. nothing sticks to paper. the words are false. he throws them in the trash. I whine about lover’s block. no one sticks to my heart. their voices are false. I throw them in the gutter.  we let Eliot express our feelings. with his words in our mouths, we are sure of everything. never completed vacation plans are formed.  the coffee cold as he declares his love for me. I say it’s T. S. talking. and the hyacinth scented tealights. in the silence I hear Elizabeth and Leicester row down the river. I stand and run into the evening. he comes after me. shouting with the blackbirds: "You are April to me!" 

the back of your black t-shirt disappearing in the crowd my legs too short to follow in your footsteps thick soled combat boots weighing me down asking for you at The Gentleman Loser one look at my face has the bartender shaking his head my neon pink raincoat does little to protect me from the downpour summer rain over crowded streets and an empty apartment my love for you a cheap hologram