WHAT IF HES WRITTEN MINE ON MY UPPER THIGH ONLY IN MY MIIIIIINNNDDDDD

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

More Posts from Noorkasamundar and Others

noorkasamundar

10 months ago

"haven't i given enough?"

It's on days like these when I wish, I lived alone. In a home settled deep into a busy street in this busy city, with one space, only for me. On days like this when the rain has fallen all over the pavement and the scent of trees is in the air, I wish I lived with my thoughts and perhaps a cat, if only I could.

There is comfort in this home I reside in, a family filled with love and admiration for each other, but still, amidst all the underlying chaos of pain and dysfunction, there is only one thing on my mind. I wish I lived alone. The house I would live in would be mine alone. Filled with so many things green it would almost be like Pantone decided to trip the green palette into the space.

I look at my room, which really hasn't been mine in the past year, and see things no one else does, for they aren't here. Memories of nights with friends that don't come into this room anymore. Days where I've spent my entire afternoon painting on this very floor, covering each corner of the tile with a different color. What memories will I be able to make when I don't have to hide in a single room for the entire day? Will all these bits and pieces spread around the entire house in just a chaos of boredom and peace?

Will I recognize freedom when it greets me with warm hands and a shy smile at the front door? Or will I turn it away because it isn't the shivering, crippling figure of the anxiety that made me hide under the very desk I write this on top of when everything was too bright and my head wanted life dull?

I'm unsure of only one thing when it comes to the fact that I wished I lived alone. The fact that I won't understand that living alone and being lonely may just be two different things that have nothing to do with each other. Living alone might just be the one thing that salvages the hollow fear I feel inside. There isn't somebody who tells me I did my best anymore. Will I tell myself for every next day in the future, that I did everything that I could and I still will?

The house that I call mine will cover each and every wall with not just paintings and art, but splashes of all the mistakes I've made, so I know there is nothing to be afraid of when it comes to accepting your mistakes, not even displaying them on the wall of your own home.

I wish, on days like this, when the absolute massacre of personal space is a matter of zero concern for people in this house, that I lived alone.

I wish I lived in a home, where being my authentic self wasn't shameful and uncomfortable, but so honest and appreciated, that I would never live.

I wish to live in a home, where I am confined to these walls not by constraint but by my choice. I wish, on these days when everything moves above, below, and beside me. I only wish, to live alone.

~ noor.