Kismet

In her beauty I saw my fate. The room too hot. The hour too late. Sweat beading down my face. Down my chest. Down her back. Down curves Aphrodite herself envied.

With flushed cheeks and a smile carving years away from her face, her nails dug into my back. The motion bringing rapturous joy. Stripped bare, we discovered the secret of life in each other.

I searched the tea leaves for the girl of my dreams. Begged for divination to reveal her to me. The love of my life. My destiny.

I yearned for the things I never knew growing up. For white picket fences and true love. A functioning relationship built on trust and not fights involving dishes shattering like hearts against the beat. I learned to free fall through love stories. Baselining romanticism like an addict searching out a better reality.

And there she came. She walked…no… sashayed into my life in the most beautiful of ways. A mess like a Jackson Pollack. Paint splattered against white canvas. a beauty few could understand or appreciate. Pulling emotions from deep inside. Feelings I never knew existed.

Her.

The way she spoke of places as if they were people she had intimately known. She spoke of people as if they were foreign places she longed to explore. To discover the magic we all hold inside. I got the sense that though I may have her in the moment, her beauty lie in the fact she would never belong to any man.

As my smile faded and whiskey saturated my soul, I longed for her. Anguished. I chased. Writing letters in the form of tears down my face.

My Dearest Kismet

  Find me ‘round the river bend

On a bender, fading fast

Pick me up from the rubble 

Of my own selfish self destruction

I’ve been burning

I’ve been boozing

I’ve been missing you

Clean me up

Lord knows I need a shave

You can nick my skin 

Just to remind me what it feels like 

To be alive again

I apologize, my blood is thin

As my weak constitution

I’ve been busy fighting with my demons

I aint afraid to admit 

I’ve been losing

But find me round the river bend

Soaked in fear and drowning in my feelings

Pull me up and dry me off

When I go spiraling, my dear

Take my heart home 

I’m afraid I won’t last 

If you let me go

The Boy Drowning In Your Wake

Her soft touch warming my cheek on a wintry day. She held me for a moment before letting go. As we said goodbye, she reminded me we are all just blood and bone stitched together with scars and woe.

Flawed.

Broken.

But alive.

I still remember the girl divined to me in the tea leaves. She still carries on the wind, accompanied by my heart. Her soul unchained and free to roam. As the cold air reminds me of my blood and bones, I know to capture her would never have been fair.

Some things are meant to be fleeting. Brief moments of beauty to warm the heart when the night gets bitter cold. For the sleepless nights, when the only things pouring out are alcohol and what ifs. Syrupy and sweet; I burn my throat with whiskey and stain the pages with love. Love-stained pages stacked on ancient tea leaves.

Spring comes around and I’m seeking love again. Yearning for moments I once felt. Flowers bloom and I swear it is your scent reminding me I have no idea where to go from here.

Summer comes suddenly, bringing heat waves and thoughts of her. I’m beginning to relapse, content to crumble into my lovesickness. I dream of her kissing me and I die inside. When I wake though, I feel alive.

My Dearest Kismet

The biggest lie I told was “I’m okay”,

The seasons change around me

I’m still stuck on you

The man in the mirror

there’s something different in his eyes

Maybe this is heartbreak

At the very least it’s certainly goodbye

You etched ‘love’ in my heart

And I cling to the stardust you left behind

I just want you to know I still believe

in love

in tea leaves

in us. 

The Boy Learning To Swim In Your Wake

Flawed, broken, but alive. Her goodbye reverberating through my mind. I grasp at the reality. The pain seemed unbearable at times yet I survived.

Flawed, broken, but alive.

The sun rises on a new day. On a new life. On flushed cheeks and a smile carving years away from a new face. And as I lay there on my back, I breathe in the autumn air. We were making something. Be it love or lust, I know not. I just know in that moment there was creation of something inside of me.

Kismet. 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.
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