Tag: Fiction

Petrichor.

Sitting by the window, with my face pressed to the window pane

I watch as the skies cry, and I rejoice in their pain

I watch the raindrops slither, reaching the bottom of the glass

I open one window, and slowly reach out

To catch a few raindrops, in my palm

The chilly air is wafting through the open window

The lightning strikes, it’s very sudden

I pull my hand inside, in fear

I wrap a blanket around me, to ward off the chills

I see a girl from my window

Silhouetted in the street lights, dancing in the rain

With her hands outstretched

I can’t see her face, but I imagine she’s happy

She reminds me of my mother, always happy, always smiling

I wonder what she’s doing now

I look up at the skies, maybe it’s her crying

I catch a few more raindrops in my hand

“Don’t cry, mommy”, I whisper

“My hands are not big enough to catch all your tears”

Do you think she can hear me?

stock-photo-rain-stops-play-98716886


-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

The walls around me.

I built walls so high,

No one could climb it.

Waiting for someone,

Who cared enough to try.

A few tried,

But gave up after a while.

Guess they were too tired,

To climb so high.

And then you came along,

With a smile and a song.

Singing about how,

You wanted to break my walls down.

I watched you take a hammer to my walls,

From behind a closed window.

Waiting for you to give up,

Like so many others before.

I watched you work for days,

And weeks, and months.

Never giving up,

Never tiring.

Finally, I opened a window,

And you climbed inside.

And together we broke the walls,

That I had built so high.

You sang a song,

And I finally sung along.


-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

Love me.

Love me,

And I’ll let you win at scrabble.

Put down the book I’m reading,

Just to smile at you.


Pretend to be asleep,

Just to let you watch me a little more.

Go to the beach during sun set,

And watch you instead.


Love me,

And I’ll write poems for you

Letting my words make love to you.


We can make forts,

And fall asleep inside them.

Bake cookies in the kitchen,

And end up having food fights instead


We can go on road trips,

And get lost on the way.

I’ll let you pick the songs

When we drive.

And you can stay up all night,

Listening to me whine.


We can spend Saturdays,

Watching bad TV at home.

Steal kisses on the road,

When no one’s looking.


Love me,

And I’ll give you my soul

And then some.


-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

Broken glass.

You’re broken glass, and I’ve got

Shards of you, stuck to my skin

They pierce me, with every breath I take

Making me bleed, until I’m covered in blood

But don’t they know, that I’m a masochist?

Who craves the pain, that comes from loving you?

I’ve got my lungs full of you

Making it hard to breathe

But I love the pain, the pain that comes from loving you

The pain kills me, but makes me feel alive

I’ve got shards of you, stuck to my skin

And I’m in no hurry, to take them out.


-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

When I see you…

And, when I see you, maybe five years from now, I would show you my engagement ring, and tell you that I met a great guy who treats me really well. I would tell you, that he makes me laugh. He doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile, because he knows I’m not. He doesn’t try to save me, he knows that I would destroy anything and anyone that dare ever mess with me. He knows I’m a dragon who spews fire from her mouth, and he loves me anyway. He loves me for my sharp mind, and my even sharper mouth. He makes me go absolutely crazy. There’s not a dull moment in my life with him. He loves arguing with me, for he knows how much I love it. He never lets me win, he always argues with all he’s got, which is just the way I like it. Whenever he introduces me to someone, the first thing he says is, “this chick is crazy and I love her.” Then, he looks at me like I’m the sun to his sky.

I would tell you, that his smile is like my very favourite love song. When it’s 2AM, and I can’t sleep because I’m still hungover on that book I just read, he comes and sits with me in the living room, then falls asleep on the couch because he was too sleepy to stay awake any longer. I would be cooking in the kitchen, and he would pull me to him, and start dancing like a crazy person. When we go for long drives in the evening, he pulls off just to kiss me. He looks at me like I put all the stars in the sky when he thinks I’m not looking. He sits there and listens to me cry over fictional characters like it’s something sane people do every day. He tells me I’m crazy, but that he loves me for it. He loves me, like you never did.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore