reign o'er me....

I've always loved rainy days. The sky closes as a silver lining substitutes blue gold. The birds start flying home, searching for a place to pass the storm at. Suddenly a cold blow covers your body and streams through your soul, while the smells in the air thrust into your senses. Light recedes as an instant of peace welcomes that first drop. Some say that the sky starts falling. I like to say that the world starts living. Greens become greener. The air becomes pure as the earth opens its mouth to receive a fresh drink of that precious liquid. Water pours down as right as only rain can be.
For some, rain marks the beginning of spring. For others, it's a sign of winter. For us, living in a land in an eternal season of growth, these downpours only mean quiet afternoons indoors and adventurous experiences outside. Dancing with your lover under the rain or staying home alone, letting the continous resonnance of drops hitting the land turn the noise into quiet.
When the world awakens after a shower of liquid sunshine, everything is more alive than it was minutes before. Life begins and ends with rain.
When you come inside after walking under the rain, a hot bath and dry clothes are the closest to paradise you could ever wish for. Whenever I feel myself in that situation, memories dress my mind as a mixed feeling of nostalgia and relief envelop me.

I love rainy days.

for what it's worth...

I'm sorry.

Sorry if sometimes I don't give you the importance you deserve. Sorry if sometimes I don't know what to say. Sorry if I don't listen to you hard enough. Sorry if sometimes I say things that are totally wrong. Sorry if I don't show you enough how much I care for you, how much I love you. Sorry if sometimes things aren't what you expected. Sorry if I forget, and if I don't. Sorry if sometimes I'm too proud. Sorry if I apologize too much.

But then again I am not.

I'm not sorry about that new way of seeing the world that you've taught me. I'm not sorry of how you've conquered my fears and insecurities and made them irrelevant. I'm not sorry of how I've learned to enjoy watching TV, a glass of wine and staying in bed long after I woke. I'm not sorry because I now know that sometimes the best way of fixing things is by talking them out. I'm not sorry because I've gotten to see the real you, the one that can make me crumble with a simple smile, blush with a well-positioned kiss and believe that maybe, after all, I can change.


for what it's worth.

sunday mourning

the ink flows like waves in front of me
the same waves that washed you away
the same waves that used to frame our sunsets

i try to write a message to you
but i wishfully hope that you've already read my heart

your footsteps have been washed away
but i could trace them again & again
all the way to where you stood that day

your skin has been taken back
but i hould describe it again & again
all the way to its tinyest fold

i hopefully stare at the ocean
for it to bring your ashes
in a new form


heaven's a word where she comes from
haven't a word where she's gone
and in a word, i am alone
into the dark where she's gone