i'm on my rooftop again. this place is my haven. the world disappears when i'm up here. the only thing that kept me going on my walk home was the thought of coming up here. it's just 1430 so there are cars still out there and people bustling about their business, but come up here at about 0300 and it’s dead silent. just a girl, the dark starry night and well, you know how it works.

Juicy Raindrops! ♡

He enters my room through the open windows on a cloud of mist and ever so quietly, he steps onto the carpeted floors of my bedroom. Quietly, he walks over to the edge of my bed and sits beside my sleeping form. 

He watches me sleep awhile and takes in the new lines on my face. Every new line, every new blemish.

Ever so gently, he brushes back a few hair strands that have escaped their hold from the pile on my head and kisses my forehead ever so dearly.

He lies next to me and holds me all through the night ever so lovingly.

He soothes me when I get restless and when I seem to be freezing, he lights me afire with only a flick of his fingers, ever so... *siiiigggh!*

Ever so wretchedly, he leaves me every morning just before my alarm goes off so I wake up with only a light sense of his presence on the fringes of my mind leaving me ever so lonely.

But ever so truly, he returns the next night. And ever so desperately I cling on to this unhealthy cycle of our relationship because while my days can be ever so stressful, I know my nights are always ever so.. Juicy! 

Juicy Raindrops! ♡

What do you know of love? Not that tepid insipid thing mixed with lust that walks around with the mask of love. That’s mimicry. It’s a case of stolen identity. Love should sue.

No, I am talking about burning fiery love. The one that wears a calm face but supports, builds, believes and cannot be anything else but itself. I am talking about love that craves not just this day or this night or lifetime.. I am talking about love that demands all your lifetimes in whatever form or way that your may be reborn. I am talking about love that sees in the dark and hears through silence.

I am taking about the bare surrender of the iron soldier who takes off his armour in her presence and lays his head upon her lap to rest and breathe, trusting in the hands that hold him to guide him home. I am taking about the confidence in her stance and walk as she takes on the world knowing that if she ever stumbles, she will be caught from behind before she ever hits the ground. 

Knowing that if she needs it, she has sanctuary in the heart of her soldier.

Knowing that she is the only place he can be without his army and armour and still be invincible.

Do you know anything about this love? Can you even imagine it?

Tell me truly.. Can you?

~~~~~~

An artist is somehow able to take these ingredients and transform them into the art that you see, admire and even dismiss or criticise.

This is to the artist. Whatever your medium. Words, paint, soil, food, glass, clay, resin, wood, oil, notes or instruments.

Pure, true magic. And your art matters.

They are works of heART!

We know each other well.  

It kept me company when I was alone and it gave me cover and shielded my pain and tears from the world. Now that I think of it, you could call the night a friend of mine. We do know each other well.

You’ll find that I write more in the nighttime. Particularly about things that i am feeling. The words flow easier then as if shielded by the night, I do not have to be anyone but who I am and so the truths come out. Mark Twain said, “Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth”. The night is my mask. My shield, my cover, my protection, my friend.

And what do I have to say tonight? 

So much. So very much that I could fill oceans and they would still overflow with my words and the depth of my emotions right now. I let it pile up. I had work to do so I didn’t bother purging. I haven’t written in months. So it piled up and now finally it’s breaking apart and I can’t even identify what all the emotions are.

Loudly though I can feel dejection and a sense of loss, as if I am in mourning. I’m not sure who or what but it’s in there. I’ll try to sort them all out over the next few weeks, months, years.. and if they choose to flow as words, i will return to write here.

That’s all.

May the night be with you.