Hiraeth

Who calls me from across the sea,

aloud and yet, ever so softly.

Who calls my name with painful longing -

the affliction from which I suffer now.

Who calls me ?

Does anyone call at all?

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Alone in the city,

bright and bustling,

and crowded -

I long for the silence

of the trees

and the whispering of the wind

and the solitude

that raised me.

I wish for the warmth

of the Sun's hands

as it wakes me in

the morning.

I wish for the dog's cry

to the moon at night.

I wish for the intense stillness

of the sky

and for the sound of soft waves

rushing upon the shore.

I wish for my lover's eyes

to be looking into mine,

for his embrace

for his body by my side

at night.

I wish for the comfort

of his breath down my neck

while he holds me

and slowly rocks me

to sleep.

I wish for my brother's

playfulness

and for his tall tales

and adventurous stories.

I wish to see his smile

and his laugh

as he plays and prances

in the entirety of his

obliviousness.

I wish for the home

that I never found with

the parents who raised me.

I wish for the

acceptance and trust

without which I grew.

I wish for the understanding

and the patience

and the kind words

whose absence

caused great pain to me

and created conflicts between me and them -

like the conflict of two great countries

at war.

I wish for the feeling to want to go back.

I wish for the feeling of belonging,

of being missed,

of being wanted.

I wish for the home that never was.

I wish for the life that never was to be.

I wish for Hiraeth.

Fragments of a Survivor's Heart

She had all the world

or so they thought

until they stood around her wearing black

then, they said freedom,

was what she was missing;

For a short time she was free,

more free than she could have ever been,

he made sure to it,

and they could not see

that it was he who made her happy,

to them he was to be her apple - forbidden.

And this they thought as they stood around her,

dressed in black.

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Afraid to speak,

afraid to feel,

afraid to voice out what she wanted,

afraid in a world that they said was free,

"we are so liberal" they said

but it wasn't enough.

Lumps in her throat when she tried to fight,

scars of a belt slashed across her arm,

because she wanted her freedom -

but they wanted her caged.

It was not the age old fight

of blacks and whites,

nor races upon one another -

nor was it some quest for power.

All she wanted was to do it her own way,

all they wanted was for her to be 'normal'.

How can one love someone else

if they do not love themselves? -

and they made sure they raised her such

that the only people she'd think loved her

were them.

But they were wrong,

because he came along,

and she fell in love,

and he made her feel like she was worth it,

and for a moment her life seemed perfect,

worth living,

worth having,

special.

She lived in the moment,

she flew in the air,

she sang with the wind,

she defied their rules simply by loving him -

and she was happy,

and she was free -

but the moment ended,

a moment too soon.

She was free -

until he left,

and she was broken,

and to her cage she retreated,

then she was back to square one -

tears in her eyes,

lumps in her throat,

his words whispering in the back of her mind -

"i never loved you"

"i never loved you"

"i never loved you"

"we were just having fun".

Broken.

Defeated. 

Irreparable -

like a wall of glass

she broke,

she fell,

she passed.

Her light grew dark

and her spark went out.

She surrendered to their hold,

they couldn't be more happy,

she couldn't be more lost.

She looked at a girl -

a girl that he loved -

she would have been her

had they not held her back

she would have been free spirited,

she would have been strong,

her smile unbroken,

her heart beating to its own -

without opposition.

She would of been herself,

she would been unafraid,

if only she had put her courage

to the test

and fought back with all her might -

at her impressionable age

she surrendered,

her entire life

to the people who made her feel

useless.

She gave them the ropes

to drive her chariot

across the world,

she was a passive spectator

of the game they played -

the game

that made her life.

Years passed and she never forgot,

though her smile had been plastered

to her face

for so long

she had forgotten how to smile truly

and she simply

went with the flow -

numb.

She lived -

no - 

she existed,

acting properly,

behaving correctly,

she fell to societies clutches

and gave into their wishes too.

At her young age of twenty and six -

married,

and yet alone.

He didn't understand her,

he never had

or maybe he did -

but he didn't make her feel

like someone had done so many years ago.

She felt more caged,

more alone,

more distressed,

then ever before.

She called him up - 

the boy from the past

and his soothing voice greeted her;

he was confused

it had been so long

but she didn't care to explain

and he didn't care to ask -

or maybe he did care

and confusion obstructed him from

expressing his concern.

"Thank you" she said

over the phone

"For what?"

"For making me feel

for the first time and last"

"what - ?" -

she dropped the phone,

and kicked the chair,

and she stopped breathing,

before she could say sorry.

And all was done

and the world went black.

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They stood around her wearing black,

looking down upon her frail corpse -

her skin as white as the roses,

that decorated her hair,

like the satin that dressed her

lifeless curves.

She could not have looked

any more beautiful dead

but i remembered how she looked

while she was alive.

Her husband stood indifferent in the corner,

her mother cried,

her father cried,

her brother stood in shock -

he had not yet turned

nineteen

and his sister gone,

forever from his life.

I looked at her

and tears filled my eyes,

and my body lunged forward,

and i fell on my knees,

and cried "sorry!" -

to everyone who would listen

"i loved you

i loved you

i loved you

I don't know why I said any different.

You made me different,

you made me feel

for the first time

ever

and i lied to you,

and you are gone,

and i could never tell you

because i was afraid

and fear

fear kills us all

it took you,

the strongest soul amongst us

away from me-

forever

you were brave to put

your heart out on the line

to accept what you felt

and i was a coward for leaving

you behind

i am sorry

i loved you

and i lied".

He cried to her dead body

through the ceremony -

they could not fathom

why he was important

but in the note she left

she had specified him

and he was here -

They thought to themselves

in dismay

as they stood

if she had asked for more freedom

we would

have made her understand

and then it dawned on them

that she had

in many ways

and they had ignored

her pleas

and continued their ways

and now she was gone

and all they could do;

was stand in dismay.

Pineapples

She looked down with a coy smile... Her hair fell across her face and before I knew it, my hand had reached up to tuck it behind her ear. I smiled and she looked at me curiously. Her hand that rested on my lap now slid its way up my leg and the other to my chin. She bit her lip nervously and leaned forward. I watched as the soft, pink and luscious skin of her lips moved closer. I parted my own and closed my eyes wishing for the moment when the distance between us would be nothing. Delicate, just a light brush of the tip of her tongue, she moved back to see if we were on the same page - I didn't drop her stare. 

With a sudden speed, her mouth ran into mine, rushedly, ferverently, as though we would be caught at any time. As my hands found her waist her own had made grip on my jaw and pulled me closer. Her t-shirt slid up and my finger touched the smooth skin below her belly button. I looked down and hesitated but she reached for my hands and pushed them up allowing me to take it off. Her delicate finger move to the buttons of my low neck shirt and she giggles as her little finger brushes over my nipple that now stood erect. I don't remember how our shorts ended up in a pile in the corner; I was too invested in the feeling of her hands running up my inner leg. She kissed the soft skin at the joint of my leg and hip, she breathed softly against that part of me that till now had only met the unsure attitude men presented towards it. 

With the adeptiveness of a craftsman at his craft, her hands got to work. Moving in circles until I felt the heat building, suddenly and with precision of time, two fingers slid into me and curved to meet that spot that had yearned for her touch since the day I had drunkenly kissed her first. Too much, she is too giving, my back arches and I shake as waves of an inexplicable feeling rush over me, I moan but her lips lean down to silence me. I get up as I catch my breath, I am only too willing to return the favor... I look down at her clitoris, I see where it is. "Okay" I think, I know something. She must have noticed my hesitation. She giggled and said, "It's okay to experiment you know, just do what feels right." I nod and close my eyes, countless times I've fantasized about having things done to me. I could do this. I loved her kissing my inner thigh, she'd probably like it too. So i lean in to kiss her, my nose smells something, sweet, raw - oddly, it smells good. 

I take a whiff of her scent and lick my lips. I know what I've got to do. 

Slowly I move my tongue to her clitoris, releasing at instant moan from her lips, again, again. She moves upwards but i hold her legs down. "Tie me up" she says, “Please" I grab a couple of scarves from her wardrobe, and begin tying her up. Her two legs on either side of the bed and her hands onto the headboard - I tongue her clitoris again and she yelps in a pleased frustration. She cannot move her legs. I continue to move my lips against her and she continues to moan in ecstasy. She is wet, more now than ever, her orgasm is approaching and I hear her shudder, "Please, please... don't stop". I move slowly now, tortuously slow, her legs begin to shake and I know what to do next. I dip my finger into her glistening pussy, once, twice, slowly, experimentally- I have not stopped tonguing her clit. Now I move faster, she wants this, she needs this. So I curve my fingers this time, and the second I do, I hear her scream. Her body jumps as she climaxes, shaking back and forth even with the scarves restricting her movement. I undo the scarves while she slowly gains her composure, I lick my lips... Pineapple, she tastes like pineapple.