Juicy Raindrops

The blog has undergone another major facelift, hasn't it?
"The playground" lasted longer than the rest
but now it's time to change. Because i am changing again.

i am tempest.

there is darkness, fury, grief
i write as i learn - you should know this by now.
the tortured artist is a cliche
i want to say that; but will it be true?

these days i find myself
walking barefoot, drifting
and sitting cross legged on the floor
darkness and all
have i ever felt so free?

i guess we will just have to find out.

- Gypsy.

So today I am expecting you. I have made myself up and I smell like sin. If you do not come, you will crush me. Again. As I made up I told myself that it was purely for me. For vanity. For you to pause, stare, gulp, regret. But as I sit here feigning indifference I know the truth. My heart whispers it softly. Because if you turned up with a dozen red roses, a black velvet box, on bended knee, I would say yes. I have always said yes to you.
Even without the bended knee.
Even without the roses.
Even without the velvet box.
Even when you do not ask.

Aftermath.

I knew I shouldn't have agreed to meet with you. I was over you and no good could come from it. I should have sent your stuff through the mail like I had wanted to. But you asked to see me and perversely I wanted to see you too. So I agreed.

Idiot.

We took that memory lane, for why wouldn't we? The blames and reasons. You wanted to know, I couldn't ask. For I am the cautious one between us. I have to keep my head because if I don't, we will both be lost.

“Why didn't you?”

So here I am. Sitting on the staircase. Remembering your face as you left. I snuck a look back as you car drove past, I had to. And when I caught you looking back, I looked away. Because this is the last time I will see you. As I left your car, I teased you and told you I'd see you in 4 years.. and you'd probably have 3 kids by then. We laughed about it. You didn't know it was my goodbye. Perhaps I didn't know it too. Not until you drove away and I walked into my garden. Somewhere between the roses and dahlias, I made my peace with it and regained some of my equilibrium. You could throw it all off again, but you won't. You wouldn't bother to. And that's fine, for this really is goodbye.

I will not write about you anymore. You can't write about a ghost. We've been star-crossed for as long as we've known each other. Without such fodder for my imagination, I'm sure the inspiration will die too.

Be happy my almost never lover.
I pray it for you.

Goodbye.

i am writing right now

because it has always been easy to write about you

and because I feel compelled to

after that sweet lane of memory we just strolled through.

i have been mad at you, furious even

i have hit you,

punched you,

kicked you,

thrown stuff at you

and have even come precariously close to hating you.

but the line is thin.

i have also loved you,

i have laughed at you, with you,

teased you,

adored you,

wanted you

and for a time, I chose you.

now we have a curious relationship

we stick to the same routine conversations every time

4days and 4weeks

bored out of our minds

unable to change

because at least we are together

at least we have each other

it is better than those long months we spent apart

so we will take what we can

and on those increasingly rare days,

we can even convince ourselves that we actually believe it.

I came back late enough to see the moon hanging in the sky.

It was a new moon, I noticed

and even then I knew tonight was one of those nights.

I went in, showered and ate – mechanically, automatically

performing my ablutions and keeping to my normal routine.

Then I made it to my room and it all came flooding in

The night was of prom

Have you ever thought what a weird word that is: prom.

Seems like it should be short for something

Like say, promise.

That would suit just nicely because it was on such a night

That we made our promises.

That night, almost 10 years ago that we sat side by side,

watching our friends dance, scream and celebrate

the end of a phase of their lives.

I remember that night so vividly even after all this time.

The lights in the hall were dim but I can see the way you looked,

Remember the way I felt, the song that was playing.

You said the words to me quietly,

so quietly that if my head hadn’t been on your shoulder,

I would have missed it.

I looked up at you, you looked down at me.

I remember wondering if I had imagined it.

If perhaps I had been so much in the moment that my overactive imagination

had decided to make a great night perfect.

But there was a question in your eyes, you were waiting for me

I know because I have waited for you too and just like that it all fit neatly -

Like a key in a lock.

The words “I love you” are a promise.

And that night we made each other a promise.

Promises we both broke.

On nights like this, with a new moon hanging overhead,

I think of the what-would-have-been’s and wonder where we went wrong,

If we could have done things differently -

You would have said the right thing

and I would have done the right thing.

On nights like this,

I miss us something fierce.

The boy you were, the girl I was.

And I get so tempted to call you

Just to hear your voice, to see if i remember it right.

I wonder if you remember it all as clearly as I do.

I wonder if you wonder about us at all on these blue moon nights.

I wonder if you remember that we didn’t fight for us

You were the loser who gave up too soon

and I was the arrogant one who wouldn’t fight alone.

Then time passed as it does and we both changed

and there was nothing left to come back to even if we had wanted to.

You moved to another and then another

and I found bigger goals than simply being the eternal love of your life.

I don’t regret loving you.

Even if I think that you and I were simply a waste of potential.

But on nights like these,

I wonder where we would have been now

had you been a storm weather-er and I a little braver.

I dreamt about you last night. Though you've remained dancing on the fringes of my mind, I hadn't actively let myself think of you, let alone let you creep into my dreams. I haven't picked up a pen in a month, scared of where my thoughts would lead and therefore the words I'd write. Because I can only write about that which I know. That which I feel. So instead I have only read books. Nora Roberts, Caroline Mortimer and Laura Kinsale. And if I happen to read a line that jumps out of the page and stabs me in the heart then I can smile wistfully and keep reading. Keep forging ahead. Gambare, right?

But today I had a dream. And it was a nightmare. We were in a casino playing blackjack with a couple of your friends. I didn't have any heart - and when your friend let slip that you'd married in the years I haven't seen you and had given life to another, that became literal. For the band aids that have kept my heart together couldn't take anymore and they gave way under that one final assault. And all those pieces that used to make up my heart, crushed and ground into fine dust. In my next breath, they flew way leaving behind an almost empty chest cavity - with only a muscular organ which was still pumping blood to my body parts. Keeping me still in existence if not alive. Extending my torture.

But then I smiled. And won at blackjack. And then I woke up in my own bed.

I haven't dreamt of you in a long while.

I haven't even let myself think of you.

And now I remember why.

You're the only one who has enough of me to break my heart.

Even in dreams.

we hadn’t spoken in a while you and i,

and today when we did, we spoke like strangers

we spoke like two people who had just met

or people who knew each other through an acquaintance

we spoke as if we hadn’t known each other’s secrets

as if we hadn’t told each other everything once

as if we hadn’t spent the last decade of our lives being each other's shoulder to cry on,

each other's hand to hold, each other's sounding board,
partners-in-crime, we were

helping each other pick up the fragile pieces that was left
whenever Life would throw us a curve ball

we spoke like strangers

we spoke like to two people who barely knew each other

but we used to know each other, didn't we?

we used to know what made the other cry

we used to know what made the other smile, laugh

what to say to distract at exactly the right moment

what to say to make the other consider, think

you used to know

i used to know

we used to know.

we used to be these incredibly close people usually referred to as one entity

people would tell one of us a thing

knowing the other would know about it too

we were those people

but today we spoke like we hardly knew each other

like acquaintances of a meeting or two

we didn’t even talk like colleagues

we didn’t even really talk at all.

and I felt something in me just shift

i don’t know if i’m too broken to feel things break in me anymore

but i felt something shift in me

something moved from it's original place

like a book that’s been moved from it's place on a shelf

like a Jane Austen being moved to the science fiction section

do you know what I mean?

something was out of place, something didn’t feel right

but like i said

i am way too broken to know when things break in me

it might have been a vase falling from a pedestal,

a priceless Ming relic shattering into tiny irretrievable, irreplaceable pieces

it could have been, you know?

i don’t feel the shattering that I should feel

i am too broken for that.

i hope you’re happy

i hope you become content

i hope good things for you

~~i may be broken~~ i am broken, doesn’t mean i don’t wish you well

so be happy

i hope you’re happy

cuz i can’t ask you that anymore

so i really, really hope you’re happy.

It hits me at odd times.
In the middle of a sentence. That moment right before I fall asleep. Or while processing orders at work. That's when it hits. Right between my ribs, it hits, clenches and then slowly dissipates. That is now the definition of you in my life. Sometimes it hits harder than other times. Sometimes it makes me freeze for a moment or two. Like this morning while lining my lips. Or yesterday while saying my evening prayers. You hook in when my guards and wards are down. And I can't help but think during those moments how we got here.

Then I become thankful to God for having made me cut the strings before now for if I hadn't, you wouldn't just come to me at odd times. You would haunt me like a ghost - all day, everyday.

Soon you will mean nothing at all but for now, this is where we are.

I refused to kiss my mother because she had garlic breath.

She takes one of those natural vitamin supplements and one of them has garlic in it. And i don't mean the deodorized ones. In her case, the more potent the odour, the better (and therefore more natural) it must be. Now to be honest she only takes it at night right before bed time and the kiss was a good night kiss and i hate the stench of garlic (though i love the taste of it in my food :p). Anyway, i just couldn't do it and so from across the room i wished her a good night and left.

I had taken not more than two steps from her door when i had this vision of a probable future where i wake up the next morning and find that i have lost my mother.. and my last memory of her was denying her a good night kiss because of her garlic breath. I went back in there and gave her a big smacking kiss and a hug for good measure. She gave me a questioning look and not being big on verbal expression, i didn't have the words and so i kissed her once again, smiled and left. This time walking out her door the probable future changed to something i could live with.

I am not ready to lose my mother and i don't think i ever will be. But i know it is an inevitability that one of us must depart before the other.

So momma of mine, my best friend, my biggest fan, in bed and asleep right now.. i want you to know that i love you, garlic breath and all.

Love,
J.

I have often wondered if, given a choice, a leopard would change its spots.

Maybe we are the only ones making a fuss about it.

The rain came on the third day.
Such a glorious blessing.

I will remember her as a brave, happy woman
because though she was absolutely and undeniably shattered,
she simply refused to drown.

We are human.
We become destructive when overwhelmed.
But I refuse to become a statistic.

Dear reader,

Since the creation of Jasmine's Niche, I am saddened and ashamed to admit that this blog, Jasmine's Playground, has suffered great neglect.

I am saddened by this because this blog has been there for me a great many times. But I am honest enough to admit that juggling two blogs, two Instagram accounts, two Facebook accounts means that I won't be as active on one. And in this case, Jasmine's Playground has suffered. I can't bear to see my bluebells drooping anymore so I've decided to lay Jasmine's Playground to rest.. For now. I won't delete the blog itself or turn the entries into drafts. I'll leave it as it is for that day when I hopefully return. In the meantime of course, Jasmine's Niche will be bursting with activity so please head over there now and show some love.

Yours,

I can feel the distance growing between us everyday

It began on the day a promise you broke
Under the shade of leaves of oak.

And greater and greater the gap has grown
My rainbow morphed, into hues of grey and brown.

The warrior in me longs to arm up and fight
To slay this evil with all of my might.
With a sword, a bow or a rock

To break down all these walls of block.
To lay siege to everything they signify

And gain the battle scars that will testify.

I can hear the unstoppable wheels of time
Turning and turning, taking that which once was mine.

Soon you will forever be lost to these eyes that see

Sailing away on a different sea.

Maybe sometime for a fragment in space

To Jupiter we both will face.

Will you feel my presence then I wonder?
Where I am, will you ponder?

Like I most definitely would you.
Always, always you.

Now you are gradually fading from my thoughts

And Nature is running it's natural course.

First, love lives and then it dies
But when it's true, it never lies.

So if I should miss you once
Or twice
While doing the simplest of things
Well then know that my heart rings
Its half-muffled bell,
Our memory I could never sell
In remembrance of you.
Always and forever, you.

i have traveled this road before
i remember it all too well.
like the lines on the palm of my hands
i could never forget it
i recognize the landmarks
and the accompanying emotions
the loneliness
the sadness
the fear
i remember them all
we used to be bunk mates.

i have walked these streets before
this boulevard of broken dreams and empty frames
but never with You.
what an ignorant fool i have been
i should have reached out earlier
taken that one step to You that brings You ten steps closer to me.
but i am glad i found You
or that You found me
i do not know which it is
but i do know that walking this road with You
i am not afraid or lonely or sad
You shield me from all that
set me on the right path when i swerve
and light up all the dark places in my mind.

i know this road,
these grim murky insect-infected streets
i know them all too well.
but they have lost their power over me.

j.

i love you for your smile. i had to begin with that. you are one of those rare people whose smile makes me want to smile too. i love that being with you i feel and become a different person - a much lighter version of myself. a version that lives deep within protected by walls of cynism and nonchalance. you reveal the real me - the girl that lives within the woman.

i love you for your love of food. and abstract art. which sometimes i do not understand but would love for you to teach me. i love you enough that i want to show you my hometown. i want you to walk those streets i walked, see those sights i saw, hear those sounds i heard and smell those scents i smelt because you know who i am so i want to show you where i am from.

i love you for making me laugh. and blush. somehow only you can successfully accomplish the two simultaneously. i love that you inexplicably like to hear me sing. and that you used to watch me sleep. i love that i am comfortable enough around you to do both.

i love you for indulging my constant insanity and mood swings. for getting me a newly released harry potter book for my sixteenth birthday. i love you for your selflessness. i will forever love you for that night in '06 when you pulled me out of a dark place i hadnt even known i had stepped into. even then you saw what i did not. i can be slow like that. but you love me all the same.

i love that we can fight and make up. fighting is easy. making up takes patience, compromise and forgiveness. i learned all that with you.. and sooner or later you are going to have to forgive me for that one thing you still hold against me. even if i have to bribe you first.

i love you for your heart and mind. your courage and fears. your joy and pain. your strengths and weaknesses. you exasperate me with your occasional stubbornness and lewdness but after much thought i have realized that i would not have you any other way.

i love how you never give up on me. heaven knows i have given you more than enough reasons to, but you dont. you stay and have become a constant for me. i do not have words that can aptly express what that means to me. i want to see venice with you someday. you would appreciate the architecture and i will enjoy the ambiance. and shops of course.

i am telling you all this now because i do not know how much time we have left. i do not know if i will live to see tomorrow or even if you will. recent events have brought that home to me. and i do not want to take for granted this time that we are here now, together and well.

i love you for being alive. because you were right when you said that my life would be much darker and lonelier without you in it. so do not leave me yet, okay?
i will continue writing for you if you stay.

j.

Do you think anyone heard the sound of the chainsaw as it revved to life?
I am quite sure that no one did.
Because people don't seem able to hear the sound of a heart as it breaks
and shatters into uncountable, irretrievable pieces.
I wonder if maybe it is a quiet affair. That the pain is such that there is no sound.
Honestly I think that that absolute silence of a breaking heart is frightfully scary.
Think about it,
Nuclear bombs go off with a big bang and leave cities leveled while
Bio-engineered gas can wipe out an entire country, silent as death.
The damage inflicted is inversely proportional to sound;
Plus what is it they say about empty barrels and loud noise?

So no. No one heard the sound of the chainsaw.
Or the silent cries of protest of the earth
As that lone sycamore tree..
Where once we carved our names and professed our undying love

Where we exchanged stories about dreams that no one else knew

Where you taught me to read the stars and constellations

Where you laid your head on my lap and slept

Where I realized that you were a part of me I couldn't live without

Where you told me you had to leave to chase those dreams of yours

Where I offered to go with you

Where you told me you didn't want me to

Where you left me, on the same ground where I let you make me yours

.. Was felled and gone forever.

Our silence gave way to the song of the chainsaw

And no one knew.
And you had left so there was no one to tell them.
And I was gone so i couldn't ask you to.
And we were no more so they couldn't remember that we had ever been.

Not the tree.
Not you.
Not me.

J.

There is a fellowship more quiet even than solitude, and which, rightly understood is solitude made perfect.
- Robert Louis Stevenson.

Enjoy..
Love,
J.

I took a trip to the farthest regions of the country

A place where no skyscrapers stood

And livestock still littered the front yard.

No smell of carbon monoxide tinted the air

And it was so quiet I could actually hear myself breathe.

Here, there were no immaculately manicured hedges

but rows and rows of tilled land.

In the midst of which was a sight that caught my eye.

Working so diligently,

Nursing the soil with so much patience and adoration,

I felt envious

He stood with his feet parted but

Planted firmly to the ground, hoe in hand

Under the raging sun

And I had but one thought: this was a man of the land.

He looked upon his land with pride.

I watched on transfixed,

As with the eye of one grown and bred on the land

He examined the skies above

Preempted the rain and made cover for his crops.

Each move was effective and measured

He wasted no movements.

The sun shone brighter and hotter

He stripped off his shirt and my, what a view!

The sweat on his brow, sliding down his shoulder and back

Pectoral muscles firm and rippling as he moved

He seemed oblivious to the simple fact that he had a body

That many movie stars would die for.

For him, this was just another day on the job

Continuing what his great-great grandfather had begun.

He must have also been a master hypnotist

For I could not look away

Not for the life of me.

And my hand itched for a pen.

If I were a painter

I would have put on canvas this man in his element.

Oil, not water.

This would be no simple portrait.

Nay! that would be a grave injustice.

To be truly seen, this is man has to be seen in motion.

And the almost predatory way he moved…

This was no doubt an alpha.

He would make for a very passionate lover.

If I were a sculptor

I would a make a model of the man,

Not from limestone or granite but marble.

I would replicate the fierce concentration on his face

Capturing not just every line of his physique

But also the breath and soul of the man.

If I were a composer,

I would have put Marianelli and Cortaza to shame.

And probably Vivaldi too.

For if the feelings currently swirling within me

Were ever to be heard by a people

They would be smothered by the sheer force of such emotion.

As a writer,

I should use eloquent words to describe to you

All the vast rising feelings that grew in me

As I watched this man of the earth…

My man of the earth.

But the moment he turned and our eyes met for the first time

Everything fell away, even the words.

He smiled a slow lazy smile and I knew...

I had gone and fallen in love with a farmer

In the middle of nowhere.

So with NYSC ended now, I have got to start applying for my internship. I told you about it somewhere here. It's an obligatory year where i get to train in all the four major labs: Chemical Pathology, Microbiology, Haematology and Histopathology. There's an exam afterwards of course.

I have decided to not do my internship at The Hospital Labs where i did my service. I mean, it was fun and i did learn a lot but if i returned there now, i would only be doing the same things i did in my specialist lab which is Chemical Pathology. I want another view point, more teachers and more experiences. I have seen a busy government hospital, now how about a clinic maybe?
We'll see.

While fending off the dreaded "what next" question from friends and family, i have for the mean time become a culinary student. It’s fun and it keeps me entertained. What more can i ask for?

Juicy Raindrops

tempest.

For you.. at last.

at least

Once in a blue moon

Dreams and Nightmares

i hope you're happy

where we are now

Garlic breath and all.

Until further notice

time and rhyme

i know this road

speak now

the chainsaw song

Would you bleed for love?

I met a farmer

What next?

Navigate

Labels

Archive