How can I tell someone that life is pointless. Hearing them tell me stories of problems I’ve been through, with outcomes of disappointment waiting at the end of every story.

I want to say that everything will be alright and offer assurances, but I can’t make the words come out. They sit at my throat but only die and fall back down as I swallow my pain and plaster a rehearsed smile across my face.

I’d like to think everyone has good in them but the thought only lasts a moment before the rushing images of hate filled words and faces bombard my senses.

Mostly her words, always her face.

What use is sorry, the promise of regret. The word drips with the venom of its builder, built on a hateful action the word can only exist after pain and does nothing to quell the agony.

The hate is not meant for me, but my presence and our closeness is too overwhelming to aim, and I am to stuck to move.

Trapped at arms reach, my oppressed feelings cower.

The duality of my own mind conflicting endlessly trying to balance over a pool of insanity.

Torn by the rush of her love, the rich pain of her hate, the sweet sorrow like a lure.

The sweet sorry like a lure I blindly take.



as i lay awake i toss and turn, its not like I’m thinking about her, more like I’m writhing in a cold shadow that she left behind. not remembering things that she had said or done, more so feeling the echo of sadness that she threaded into my memories.

as i try not to think about her my thoughts seem to turn around even more strongly towards her like a revolving door with no exit.

then she calls. my heart races as a flood of emotions that i thought abated return all at once, i stare at the phone until the buzzing stops and for a moment i calm enough to check if I’m awake and this is real.

my hands shake as i held the phone hoping she would call again and i would see her familiar visage appear on my phone, with her full name so eloquently plastered in a way that i had never even heard it spoken, almost as if the phone held her in reverence and willed me to answer for my own good.

slide to unlock the pain that i tried so hard to seal away.

i give in to the temptation, although I’m not sure it is really me answering the call. but anything that i thought i could get off my chest suddenly fades as my answering is met with the all to familiar beep of being hung up on. my heart sinks slowly as the titanic, in a single moment my mind evacuates all sanity to the life boats and scrambles to save itself.

my phone buzzes, and in comes a single word


i yearn to save her, but what can i do.

i thought it was over, i had written down my pain and hit the submit button, but it was only an acknowledgement, and not the end. just the false perception of imaginary borders and segmentation of life events. not really the end to anything with her. if ever there will be and end.


she came into my life like a whirlwind

throwing the rubble that she made of my heart into the wind and ripping the mask of my emotions off like an old barn door barely held on by hinges of regret and mistakes.

it started off so sweet, the promise of a partnership to rival the best, but what i thought might be, turned out to be a dream plastered across a reality of pain. a pain in her that i thought i could heal, a pain that would stay with me forever. a pain that wasn’t mine until i stood in the midst of my own anger, my own pride and fear that lay unbridled and patient, until she walked in and out of my life.

it was years since we first met, she was just a girl at a club, and we shared a smile that longed to be whole, with only the merest thought that we could be the answer to each others problems. our lips touched only once, and i didn’t think anything would come.

then she appeared at my house.

i wasn’t sure that it was real, perhaps only a dream i hadn’t yet woken up from, and through the haze of drugs that surrounded me i don’t think i ever truly woke up for months. by the time i awoke she had already entangled her life with mine.

at first it was fleeting looks as she turned away and her eyes caught mine as her hair flicked to conceal them, then over time her eyes drunk with passion and her flirtatious ways had my heart racing.

i could never be close to her such as the living situation was.

when she was in bed with my colleague i would hear her screams of pleasure through the thin apartment walls and i felt as though i wanted to be the one to make them happen, i felt safe when she was happy, and although scared at my attraction i still held my breath and listened for her moans of ecstasy. abated with joy and imagining her smile and contortions as she undoubtedly bit her bottom lip to quell her orgasm.

a beautiful brunette, blaze was her name, and just as fire was her element her spirit burned hard and burned bright. everything about her mirrored the culmination of a raging fire, she sparked flames in everything she did, and made everything seem more alight then i had ever thought imaginable.

her eyes although sometimes seemingly red with fire were brown like her hair, but speckled through with all shades. most of the time her pupils would widen so much that her eyes appeared black and endless, if at that point i was lucky enough to look into them for long enough i would shy and turn away, from fear that i would snap and she would have complete control of me.

her smile as she caught me looking hinted that she knew how i felt, or was that just my overactive imagination drawing me closer to the insanity that awaited.

when she was through with my colleague i thought that she would be gone from my life and my head cleared.

but she never really left.

such was her nature that she was never truly happy, and like someone on the run she was always looking for an escape. somehow i think that her escapes were contagious. more than once i found myself staring into a bright light behind a door that she opened, searching for my own escape, relinquishing my control to her who seemed to have all the answers.

after a while our relationship changed, and my life became entangled in hers more and more.

we talked most days and nights, sending pictures to each other, the modern day sweet nothings, whispers of an image on a screen in the palm of your hand nothing like the breath of one on your neck, and all the more toxic because of it.

soon we were spending so much time together we became stuck, turning to each other for advice with life and relationships. i valued her time and affection and she valued my loyalty and compassion. as friends we supported each other and lowered our guards.

one night she was invited to a family gathering of mine, we talked and laughed as if this was just another night together, but as my family insinuated something more between us and neither rejected the claims, our interest in each other suddenly held less mystery.

a few drinks and some more drugs to dumb our senses and reject our thoughts led us to a romantic stargazing session.

the quiet of the country and the brightness of the stars illuminated her as she lay next to me, every breath she made audible and every movement of her soft perfect lips filled me with lust as i scanned her face and overwhelmed my senses reducing my brain to jelly.

we made love that night, and it felt like opening a present on christmas eve, the thrilling rush of excitement as if all the rules had been broken, yet unavoidable like being tied to train tracks. i had accepted my fate, and it didn’t matter what happened next as long as i had her.

one month after that night was how long we spent together, it seems like such a short time in hindsight, but during that time each day ravaged me with a years worth of emotions, each hour was a month of thoughts torrenting through my mind.

once she knew i was hers it was like a veil was lifted and her looks of love and contentment turned into searching glances and regret filled yearning of something more.

the painful truth was that i was just another escape, another doorway that she was searching through. and like a door on the doorway i became unhinged.

battling with the conflicting confusion of her actions, one day happy the next day suicidal, one second it was me who was her saviour, the next second she hated me and i was the devil. so many accusations i wasn’t even sure of who i was at the end. only by finding a baseline to the inconsistency of her daily fluctuations of thought was i able to deduce how i was contributing to her anguish. that is if i was contributing at all.

the sad probability that i didn’t matter at all to her didn’t seem apparent until  the end, along with my own arrogance that i was something special to her only prolonged the strangulation of our romance.

my own life had been simple and happy, i wasn’t prepared to witness such self-loathing as she had for herself. cutting up her own body to make her look how she felt. unable to see her own beauty through a tinted reality that her wicked thoughts projected. unable to see the love that came to her from all directions unknowingly being devoured by her distrust and anger.

the hardest part for me was knowing that i could do nothing, and that i could never know how truly terrible she felt when she lay scared by her own thoughts, bullied by her own emotions and tormented by her fears.

i hope and yearn to one day be strong enough to collect her in my arms, put my hand on her forehead, brush away her hair and wipe away her problems like wiping tears.

but my life needed mending of its own, and i can’t be a prince without a horse. so i got back on. but i haven’t rode out just yet. i just stand. i just wait. i put my faith into my humility that someone else can save her where i could not. that although i was not her prince, there is someone out there that can save my love.