No amount of positive words he read could change the heavy feeling inside his chest. If he didn’t have all these responsibilities, he would probably leave everything behind. But on top of being a responsible man, he also cared. And he was a coward. If he ran, he didn’t know where to. And the unknown scared him more than anything else. And so, he stayed inside his bubble, breaking to pieces with every breath he took, and falling apart with every thought that flooded his mind. He kept reading every inspirational quote on the internet. It made him angry. But there was nothing he would or could change. Trapped inside his own inability to move on.
Vanished
Packing her bags, she left that town. She didn’t turn around to see them going on about their lives. No one would miss her. She was invisible. Not good enough. A failure. She heaved her baggage on her shoulders, ran her fingers over the footprints on her soul and vanished into thin air.
No answers
She didn’t know the answers to many questions. She didn’t know why this special man needed to be a part of her life. She didn’t know how she felt for him. She didn’t know why him. But she knew that she deserved better than him telling her “see you in another life”. She deserved better than that. She accepted that he didn’t want to talk to her. She accepted that she didn’t know why he was like breathing air for her. But she didn’t accept “see you in another life.”
Life between clouds and feathers – I am not afraid (11)
Easy. Nothing is ever easy for Connor, and nothing will ever be. Easy is wrong. Or so it seems. And so, Connor continues to live his life the way he is used to do it. He goes about his usual routines. He goes to counseling twice a week. He goes to work every day. He takes his medication daily at the same time. He arranges his food by colour, and his socks too. He counts steps from one distance to the next, and he counts the minutes until Thomas will be back sitting on his couch. As much as his head wants to deny it, his heart knows that Thomas is the only one he will ever let in. Thomas is the only one who makes him feel safe when he is breaching his personal space. He doesn’t need to feel embarrassed or ashamed in front of Thomas. Never. Because Thomas always seems to understand.
Something clicked recently. And the realisation that they fit profoundly is etched into Connor’s mind now. And this makes Connor’s thoughts a little less dark and a little lighter. It is a phase and he knows it. But he also knows that he needs to savour it. He needs to savour it or it will be over too soon. Right now, Connor’s mind is light as a feather. Soon it will be dark as a cloud again, but he chooses not to think about it. Running on his treadmill, his black curls bounce up and down with every step he makes. His blue eyes are focused on the filing of his music collection, and in his mind he is counting. He is counting the steps he makes. He is counting his heartbeats. He is making the moment count. Connor runs and runs, but it doesn’t feel like running away for once. It is just exercise. Nothing more. Just exhausting his mind and his body. Easy. He slows down, rubbing his face with his towel, catching his breath. He feels a presence before he sees it. It makes him smile.
“Thirty-thousand-two-hundred-seventy-eight”
“What’s that?” Thomas enters Connor’s fitness room. He has leaned against the door jamb watching the shirtless young man. If he weren’t as tormented. If things were just a little easier. But they aren’t, and he learned to take what Connor is offering.
“Thirty-thousand-two-hundred-seventy-eight seconds since you last touched me.”
Thomas gulps. “You counted?”
Connor smiles. “No, I am not that mental. I did the maths,” he chuckles and reaches for a shirt that is folded in a neat square. Thomas puts his hand over Connor’s. “You are having a good day today.” Connor just nods at Thomas’s statement.
“I am a bird today. Not a cloud,” Connor mumbles. But Thomas understands. He most often does. Living a life between clouds and feathers can be a challenge for Connor and for everyone around him. But today, Connor isn’t afraid. And Thomas isn’t either, because today Connor is a feather and that is all that matters.
Life between clouds and feathers – Don’t be silent (10)
Every silence makes Connor aware of the screams building up inside of him. Every moment of numbness reminds him of the many moments of overflowing emotions he experiences on a daily basis. He isn’t leading a life that fits the norm. He can’t. Everything needs to be in a certain order. Filed by colours, or numbers, or memories. No one knows what triggers him. Least of all he himself. Life could be so easy. It really could be. But not for Connor. Few people try to understand Connor and his special needs. Thomas is one of the few. But Thomas himself is not an easy characters. Connor once knew how to handle the man who is currently sitting on his couch. But things happened; life happened, and what little trust that had built between these two was destroyed in the blink of an eye after too many fights. Both men can’t say what happened or when they fell out of love. The fights just got too many to ignore. And the words that were spoken in anger left deep wounds that didn’t heal. As it was, Thomas never gave up on Connor. He tried to let him go, but too many sleepless nights were spent thinking about the man who once owned his heart. In the meantime, Thomas had a girlfriend, but it wasn’t the same. He was not able to give her what Connor had gotten so willingly. After Connor had gone, there had been a void in his life no one could replace. The many routines Connor has and which have driven Thomas mad, were now missing from his life. And Connor; his heart has been bruised, and he recoiled into his own little impenetrable shell. The end of their relationship has been a huge failure for him personally. In his mind, his malfunctioning brain is to blame. It isn’t, Connor knows it rationally, but emotions rule his thinking. Thomas is still silent, sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV. He doesn’t say a word. It is unsettling. If he just said something. If he just insulted him for what had happened earlier. But no. Silence. Silence is louder than the loudest scream. Uncomfortable.
“Say something,” Connor dares to say at last.
“We should order some food,” Thomas replies. His eyes never leaving the silver screen.
“That is not what I meant, and you know that I can’t order takeout. I can’t eat the food someone else touched.” Connor looks at his naked feet. They feel good when he rubs them on the carpet.
“I am hungry. I am going to order some pizza.”
“Here?” Connor needs Thomas to say yes. He cannot be left on his own. But he also dreads the answer. He cannot have Thomas in his sanctuary. He will disrupt his routines, and he will take space Connor needs for himself.
“Of course. Don’t think that I will leave this place anytime soon after your little stunt.” Thomas sits up straight. Muting the TV, he looks at Connor. He knows better than to try and make eye contact.
“We are not a couple and you are here uninvited.” Connor tries to make a point, but it is as weak as it sounds, and he knows Thomas well enough to know that he won’t leave.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about whether I am invited to be here or not. I will not leave until I know that you are okay.”
“I didn’t mean to kill myself…”
“… And yet you tried,” Thomas cuts Connor off.
“Pizza, I am starving. I’ll sleep on the couch. And now, shut up I want to see this.” Thomas takes his phone out of his pocket and orders food, before he turns his focus back on the TV. “It is okay, you know. Just sit here with me for a while. The world can wait.”
Connor doubts the truth of those words, but somehow, he is willing to find out. Something is different. Something feels weird. He sits next to Thomas on the couch and without over-thinking it, he leans into the other man. He is comfortable feeling Thomas’s heat through their shirts. Safe. The thought scares him. He is too far out of his comfort zone to enjoy it. He is too exhausted to be able to find a way to make this easier for him.
playing with fire
She is a thing of beauty. As I cradle her head in my hands, her blond hair lies in waves on the pristine white pillow that supports her. He eyes are closed and the long lashes are kissing her rosy cheeks. Her lips are parted slightly and I feel her moan against my neck rather than hearing it. Gooseflesh adorns her pale skin. Sweat leads a trail down to the center of her breasts. I kiss those fleshy orbs, tease the dark nipples, just to illicit one more of those wanton moans out of her throat. What a beauty she is. One of a kind. A real thing of beauty. I kiss her neck, bite her playfully just behind her ear and lick that same spot with my flattened tongue. Her legs sneak around my hips. I know what she wants. She is close. I can feel the pulsing of her blood. I am buried inside her heat. Oh the agonizing joy. It’s torturing to bring her so much joy. She pulls me down to her and our lips meet for a kiss. Her eyes are wide open, seemingly searching for something in mine. Is she searching for the truth? The one that I am not accepting? I can’t deal with these thoughts. Not now. Go away. I don’t want you. Not moments before I fall off the cliff. I am not sure for how long I can hold back with her. It is in her moans and in her scent. It is in the way she feels around me and the way she tastes. It is overwhelming. She is overwhelming. And I am losing control. Everything inside me is becoming tense. I should stop. I should pull out. But I can’t. I carry death inside of me. There is a real chance that I am sharing it with her if I don’t stop. “Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!” Her words are slurred. Drunk with lust. Her breathing changes. Her moans are more constant. “Let me cum inside of you,” I beg. I don’t know why I asked, but she consents. And I give in. I release myself into her quivering body. Jet after jet of my poison is now coating her insides. I marked her for life. I made her mine. I shouldn’t feel this ecstatic, but I do. “You’re mine now,” I growl. She giggles. “Forever,” I add and pull out. I feel naked without her skin covering me. “You’re mine now,” she echoes my words. I can’t help but smile. If she only knew.
*
He’s perfect for me. If he only knew that I marked him for life. His lust, my lust. I couldn’t let him stop. It has been such a long time since a man touched me the way he did. He is mine now. Maybe he will hate me once he’ll find out. Maybe he’ll love me even more. “Forever,” I add with a smile. I am going to do everything I can to keep him in my life. But, if he only knew.
links
Two links:
First one for a book called Whispers of Hope:
https://www.wattpad.com/story/119413826-whispers-of-hope
It is an ongoing collection of poetry.
Second link:
It’s a book callen Burnt Wood
https://www.wattpad.com/story/106718274-burnt-wood
Short pieces of poetry, thoughts and flash fiction can be read here. Once in a while a piece of music is added to a particular piece… I hope you listen to them and find something new that you’ll like 🙂
I hope you enjoy them,
Thank you and have a great week
Cathy
Red
Red. He can taste the colour. It’s the favourite shade of his favourite colour. Nothing can stop him from craving it. Men, women, children, even animals; they all have it and he wants it. Red. All he wants to taste is red. Feast on weak and limp bodies until every nuance of red has left them to take up residence in his veins. He sees a woman with a red coat and a red umbrella. In the grey neighbourhood on this grey day, she stands out. As if she is calling his name. And maybe that is what the rain is singing when it thumbs down on the ground. It wants him to see her. Red. It’s all he wants. He stops her to ask for the time. An easy smile plays around her lips and they quirk up. Around her eyes small lines are visible. She is beautiful. But his want doesn’t understand beauty. It doesn’t care about esthetics. He wishes that he could play with her. Like a cat plays with a mouse before the feast. He can’t. Tortured red doesn’t taste good. It’s the adrenaline that makes a good meal go to waste. He is a gourmet, he doesn’t want to spoil a delicious dinner.
He thanks her politely for the time and turns as if he wants to leave. But he doesn’t leave. With a seducing smile, he turns back around and he invites the woman for dinner. He knows she can’t resist his charms. No one can. She worries her lower lip before she accepts his offer with a bashful smile. She is perfect, he thinks, and she will be his.
He is perfect, she thinks, and he will be hers.
The shades of red on him are beautiful. She can taste them on her lips. He is handsome. Too bad he fell for her charms. As he fills her veins she feels sated for the night. She turns in an goes to find a peaceful sleep. Tomorrow, her hunt for different shades of her favourite colour will start again. Red. That’s all she has ever been craving. All she needs in her life is more red.
where are you now?
You lie on the floor, dirty and discarded. No one gives you a second look and no one is willing to touch you with their bare hands. You’ve been lying there for a couple of days now, but nobody cares. The stink makes them turn up their noses, but they won’t help you no matter what.
The saddest part is that you’ve lost your significant other. Someone helped her, but ignored you. And while she has a new life, you lie in grime and disgrace. Maybe all that is missing is a hole in your body. Thankfully, it’s not that bad. Yet.
You long to feel a warm body against yours again. Inside of you. But as long as you are like this – dirty and stinky, nobody is going to see you. You fight for attention every day, but you only succeed in being pushed farther away.
You miss your significant other and wonder if she’s found someone new already. You always knew that she would leave you at the first opportunity, but to leave you like this – in this misery, that was low even for her.
You used to be together. Always. You were a pair and did everything together, but she abandoned you and you will have to rot there in the dark. Alone and cold. Scared too. This is not the right life for you. Without her, there is not reason for you to hope and to live anymore and that thought makes you loose hope.
You are a sock after all. You are supposed to have a partner. But you were pushed under the bed and then you were forgotten. You’re all alone. Covered in dust. No body needs one single sock. You wish you could go to sleep, but you can’t. You can hear the life going on around you while you are lost in the dark. No body is missing you. At least not enough to search for you. Socks are lost daily and it is no big deal in the human world.
But what is this? A chubby hand grabs you and you revel in the feel of warm skin against your fabric.
“Mom… I found my lost sock!” the sound is coming out of a little human’s face and it is too loud. And yet, you feel like celebrating. Until he throws you away again. At first it is dark and you are trying to understand where you are, but then you understand that you landed in sock heaven. A hamper full of clothes and underwear and the you see her. Time slows down. She looks just as beautiful as she did the day you were put together at the factory. She sees you too and you know that your pain has ended. The days you had to suffer on your own on the cold floor underneath a bed are over. Soon you will be paired with your loved one again. Being apart was torture, but everything is about to change.
Life for a sock is not always easy, but it’s surely an exciting one.
(Written in 2014)
One last breath
She runs through the night, heavy footsteps are following her. Eating up the space between her and her predator. Her lungs are burning and her legs are slowing down; her muscles are tired and shaking from the unusual exertion. Her breath puffs out between her lips in visible clouds. Panic is all she can feel. And cold. Icy cold that spreads inside her bones and infests her entire body. The footsteps behind her come closer. She keeps running. At least she tries to keep running. Panting. She is trying to fill her lungs with oxygen, but she doesn’t succeed. Her breathing is too shallow. It’s quiet in the dark. Lonely. She can only hear his steps. Her own steps. The blood in her ears. Please, please. Please! She whispers. She prays that someone will stop the demon behind her, but the cold in her heart lets her know that she will not be saved. Her soul is lost. Rotting. Decaying. Turning to dust. She will be forgotten. Erased from this earth. And no one will remember that she ever existed. She never left a trace. She rounds a corner, losing foot on the slippery pavement. She struggles to get her feet under her body again. In her back, she tries to crawl away from the creature that has been following her. Eyes wide, she finally sees him up close. He isn’t running anymore. Like the predator he is, he comes closer. And closer. One last attempt to get up and run away, but her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. It doesn’t follow her orders, and when he kneels in front of her, with his long cold fingers touching her throat she looks in his dark eyes for the first and the last time. Like obsidian. A dark abyss. Beautiful. Beguiling. Pleading. As if they were asking for forgiveness and permission, all at the same moment. But then he blinks and the gentleness she thinks she has seen a is gone. It made room for something cruel and soulless. The hand around her throat closes and the breathing air becomes less. And less. She tries to gulp in some air, but the hand on her throat prevents it. Her body spasms. “Please, don’t let me die like this” are her final thoughts before she feels a strange and uninvited sense of lust. Her eyes keep staring at him but her soul is on its way out of her body. The horror and confusion she felt will be forever painted on her face. In rivulets, blood runs down her throat from where his sharp claws had held on to her. The demon lets go of her empty vessel and pushes angry tears off his face with the back of his blood stained hand.
I have to do it. He bares his fangs and with gusto, he buries them where his claws have left a bloody wound on her throat.
The heat leaves her body as one last breath, one last puff of air, is pushed past her lips. He stills his hunger. His thirst. And he feels the energy of the young woman setting in his veins. He sighs satisfied, but he wants more. He needs more. It is the nature of things. He lets go of the limp, pale body and gets up. He looks at her. Desperate. He is desperate for a companion, a mate. But who could ever love what he is? Who he is? She was his first for this night. A good start. Growling, he pulls his fangs in again. A tortured sigh escapes his lips again as he turns to leave. One last look at his prey and the peaceful way she looks. All dead people have this look. If he could only feel some serenity. If his tormented soul could only find peace. His hands turn to fists in his pockets as he pushes weak and romantic thoughts aside. This is his life. His hunt continues. It has to. It will never stop. Because if it does, he will cease to exist. And the tiny fragments of the souls of the people he has had the privilege to empty would be gone too. He can’t let that happen. They all are part of him now. Some of them is in his bloodstream and nurturing his body. Squaring his shoulders, he walks into the dark moonless night. He was a man of honour and principles. At least he has been before he turned into this… The taker of the last breath.
Road to hell
And as she is standing on this slippery pebbled shore and sees the world is floating by, she takes a step on wobbly legs and starts on her road to hell. She knows the way and she knows how to get there on her own. No one on this journey with her. No one else to blame. As much as she wants to pretend it’s them – the men she seduces and teases; the words she doesn’t use; the past, the present, and the future. But no – this is about her and her road to hell. Maybe she has found her hell already? But no – this is life. Her life. Her choices. She keeps watching as the world floats by until she understands that she has lost her legs and that she is floating too. Well damn – isn’t this swell – this road to hell.
Come!
I run and I run. My legs are burning. They are heavy as lead. But I keep running. I run towards the dark alley that is calling my name. An alley I would avoid at all cost every other night. Not now. Not tonight. You are calling me. And I have to find you. I need you.
“Come Cathy!” I hear it loud and clear. And I keep running. And running. Because I want to catch you. You are my safe haven. I need to find you. Your presence will give me peace. And I keep running towards the dark. And the unknown. Edged on by the hope to find you, my love.
“Come Cathy!” And I want to come to you. But I can’t reach you. No matter how fast I run, you are never there.
“Come Cathy!” It beginning to be frustrating. Devastating. Desperation sets in. How can I reach you? And I run and I run. Until I can’t run anymore and I stop. Everything is dark. There is no sound. Claustrophobic. Empty walls are closing in on me.
“Are you there?” I whisper. It sounds like the loudest scream in this absolute silence. I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. And I realise that I am afraid. Fucking scared, actually. Of this silence. Of this void. Of this emptiness. Of you not being there.
“Are you there?” I whisper again. There is something cold and wet on my cheeks. Tears? And I can’t fill my lungs with enough air to breathe properly.
“Are you there?” I turn around several times. Turning in never-ending circles. I don’t know where I am. Lost and confused. And I am so alone. And so cold. Cold and alone. Inside, and outside too. Lost in the dark. In the unknown. Inside my dream.
“Come Cathy!” But I can’t do what you want me to do. I am not there. I am not real. Nothing is.
I wake up drenched in sweat. I remember the voice loud and clear. I know the voice. Your voice. My heart is pounding against my ribs and I can still hear my blood’s flow in my ears. It makes me deaf to every other sound surrounding me. Around me, the bedroom is bathed in a red hue from the sun touching the closed blinds. “Come Cathy!” resonates behind my eyes, and between my ears. I don’t know what it means. I can’t remember a thing. Nothing that matters. And in my agitated state it feels as if someone is watching me. I am at peace. I am safe. Because this is real, and you are not there.
awake
She lay awake in bed; wide awake. The time on her alarm kept moving forward until it was 04:26 in the morning. She only heard silence. No birds tweeting in the trees, no chirping in the grass. In the far distance, she thought she had heard thunder, but maybe it has just been a plane. What kept sleep so elusive? It was a memory.
“I made a mess,” he chuckled. I need to take a shower,” he said still trying to catch his breath. “Will you stay on the line?” She was somewhat surprised by his request, but she agreed. “I won’t take long,” he added. She heard the rustle of his sheets and the padding of his naked feet on hardwood floors. Doors opened and a shower curtain was pushed aside and then she already heard water running. She could almost see the water cascading over his naked, still flushed body. She heard how the water got caught in his hair and how it was released with a splash against the tiles. She heard bottles being open and shampoo being squeezed out. It was all so mundane, yet so intimate. And then he began to hum. She smiled. She loved listening to him. He wasn’t holding back. Just being himself. It filled her with a sense of serenity. Words were added to the sound of water. They didn’t make sense to her, and yet… She kept listening in. The water stopped and the curtain was pushed back again. Was he brushing his teeth now? The sheets were rustling again. “Are you still there?” “Yes, I am” she said fondly. “I need to go, I need to meet with my brother.” It wasn’t how she had the call expected to end, but he never did the expected. “I’ll get in touch, okay?” “Yes, yes okay. Take care.” “It was nice talking to you, sweetie. Bye” It had taken three months before he got back in touch.
She had been listening to his new record. It had been released weeks prior to her sleepless night and one particular song felt familiar. For days she wondered why. Until it hit her like a brick wall. That day in the shower, he had hummed the melody and sung some of the chorus’s words. Had she inspired a song? He hadn’t said anything in that regard but still… A girl can dream, can’t she?
“It’s in the way you need me,” he sang.
5am. The sky was changing its colour. A little over an hour before the alarm would go off. And she tried to hold on to his memory. A man who had since left her life. She still saw him at the edge of her life, but it became easier to ignore him these days. It became easier to not wait anymore. Most days anyway…
reflections of an unquiet mind 