Mirages and ink bottles.

I am a pen. This might sound like a metaphorical exaggeration, or an ornamented fact, but it is what I am. Every time I hear the same song that you loved on the radio, it’s like a cut on the side of my arm, and the ink just flows out. Every nick and cut that I get onto my calloused skin, just turns into a bruise that I wear as battle scars and gripping stories. Every time I look at the sunlight through the tinted windows of my car, I cannot help but associate the golden hue to the hazel of your eyes. Every time I look at the vast emptiness that expands beyond the final steps of a cliff, I cannot help but imagine the jagged rocks hidden in snow to be my best friends crooked front teeth, or the jump to the bottom to hide stories of wonderland. You never know what’s hiding just beyond the point your eyes cannot see.

I don’t consider myself a writer, or the pen as a fancy extension of my arm. I don’t believe in using words to heal my pain, or writing as an escape from this cruel world. I don’t make routines and set time periods for the words to find a way out, and I don’t plan on keeping them inside of me where the dark waves can hit the sun drenched sand and wipe them away. I am not a lonely or broken man wandering on hot sidewalks among a cluster of thoughts and people, wondering why you left me, or why no one talks to me the way you did.

When I see the wailing child staring at the ice cream vendor as if that’s all he ever wanted, I cannot help but smile and think about the wishes I’ve had as a child and even as an adult. And when all of this stays in my mind, my brain becomes a volcanic land with words as molten ink, erupting onto snow sheets, paper lines, and electric screens. I don’t wait for the right moment or for the memorable one. I just find things beautiful, and I let you know. When an injured boy cries on the television and countries blow up, or a young girl is found dead on the streets, or you’re just the happiest you could ever be, you’ll bleed blue too. We all will. There’s nothing hiding beyond the point your eyes cannot see, except mirages and an ink bottle.


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Grey.

Love can be cruel. You’re falling apart, drowning in your own tears, wondering where you went wrong and the damned thing still gives hope. Your wrist is cut, your mascara smeared all over, your head is dizzy and the damned thing will still not let you let it go. You are wearing long sleeves to hide the pain, smiling to convince someone that you’re fine, and saying that you’re over him, but it will still make your eyes look around for him. Love can be poisonous. It will kill you before you get a chance to think about what has happened. You will be falling to the ground, your eyes closing, giving into the darkness, and it will be the reason why. It’s not fun. It really is not.

But it is worth it.

The butterflies in your stomach, the rush of blood in your cheeks, and the constant urges to hug him tell you so. Every time you kiss him as the sun sets, every time you hold his hand just to have something to hold onto, every time you shed tears but the pillow does not get wet because he is there, you will know it is worth it. As you have sex on the terrace, drink wine on the seventieth date, and just look at each other with awe, you will know its worth it. When you listen to tapes of old music, make out in the car, or just stay together in silence, you will know that it’s worth everything that could go wrong.

Love can be cruel, and it can be sweet. You will get a taste of both. You will feel the mixed colours of darkness and light and the strange things it leaves behind. You will see the clouds darken, the weather worsening as a storm comes, but you will find peace in the rain in chaos it brings. You will see it as a poison you so desperately needed to get away from a more vicious world. You will be broken, but you’ll also be happy. You will be grey.


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Related post : My darkness.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞