THE WRITER IN ME

The writer in me tends to be solitary,
Armed with her rucksack bag,
Her pens and her note pads,
She embarks on her own adventures;
Never too sure of what she will find,
She wonders around the globe,
Seeking new emotions, new worlds
Seeking the new in all its allure.

The writer in me tends to be solitary,
For she travels the spaces of her mind,
Attuned to the rhythms of her heart,
Listening to the calling of her soul,
Guided by the words of the Universe,
Carrying the heavy luggage of her past,
She for ever treasures the nows,
For they are both her fate and new luggage.

The writer in me tends to be solitary,
She loses herself in the labyrinth of her life,
She knows her time here is no rehearsal,
For she is there to make sense of her maze,
For she is there to share what she finds;
She knows at times some doors must be shut,
So new chapters can have a chance to be written,
So her story can begin to take shape and begin to be read.

The writer in me tends to be solitary,
She loves to loose herself with herself,
For her inspiration alights while she is there,
But rare are those times she is truly lonely,
For she paints new worlds with her words,
For she meets new faces through her chapters,
For she feels new emotions through her stories,
For she creates magic with her ink.

The writer in me tends to be solitary,
Yet, she creates her big family on her journey,
She knows love is no matter of blood,
She knows all she meets hold something for her,
She knows she too has something to offer,
She knows she is them and they are her,
She knows such meetings were meant to be,
She welcome all in her heart family.

The writer in me tends to be solitary,
Yet in secret she for ever dreams,
That one day her worlds will be read,
That one day her stories will be shared,
Yet in secret she for ever dreams,
That when she goes, she will for ever stays,
Through the bit of herself that she gave away,
So subtly yet so sharply throughout her stories.

The writer in me tends to be solitary,
But like all those who surrounds her,
She is after all also a human soul,
And there exist those odd chapters in her story,
Where she can truly feel really lonely,
When she loses touch with her worlds,
When she can no longer find her ink,
When she fears that gloomy blank story.

It is in those odd moments of her life,
She secretly wishes for her friends,
To seek the writers within them,
To gently embrace her with their worlds,
To gently cuddle her with their words,
It is in those odd moments of her life,
She seeks refuge out of her worlds,
Into the worlds of those who like her,
Like to call themselves a writer

❤

A BATHROOM LOVE AFFAIR

It was about midnight, I was like any other day making my way to the bathroom, ready to share all of my adventures with her. But this one time was very different. I could hear her giggle in the distance. What could make her so happy?

I would often wonder at my local store looking for a companion for her. Yet deep down I always knew that a toothbrush without its owner would be to her like a bit of plastic without a soul. Ultimately it would make her feel more alone.

The giggling would not stop that night and so I rushed to the bathroom. I quietly opened the door, just enough to not be seen and yet see what all that unusual giggling was about (I guess some would call that spying, but I rather say I was intrigued). To my greatest delight, she was not alone, she was in the company of a very handsome soul; he who would make her giggle so hard. I very delicately closed the door so as to not be seen, leaving these two to their sweet moment. Yet, I could not help myself but to listen to their conversation, tucked away very discretely behind the door. I guess this time I cannot get away with it, I was spying, but how couldn’t I? They were so happy. Isn’t happiness to be shared?

She: “Ey, why don’t you come and tag along in my cup?”

He: “I would love to but…..”

She interrupted him not letting him a chance to finish. She, I must admit, is the fiery type.

She: “Come on, don’t be such a girl?”

I had never hear her talking that way before, a very new side of her was emerging that evening.

He: “Well, I doubt He would like that. Last time I did, it started a massive argument between him and his lady. There seem to be some rather serious rules about my freedom….”

She yet again interrupted him, yet this time she seemed possessed by some sort of hysteria, one I had never seen before.

“So you joined another lady before?”

She quickly calmed down as she might have realised she had lost her temper there and added very calmly and confidently.

She: “My owner would never do that.”

All of the sudden, I left the land of their romance and came back to the land of my own romance. What was this guy’s toothbrush doing in my bathroom? We had only met a week ago. What could he be thinking? Does he think he is settling in?”

I had to compose myself though, I could not possibly burst in hysteria, not after what she had said. What was it again? She would never do that, these few words seemed to have a life of their own in my mind that one evening, performing all sorts of choreography, some of the most exotic ones.

The following day, I was much calmer, the night makes you wiser they say, I guess that saying must be true after all. In any case, I decided to observe these two as objectively as my mind would allow me to do. Some days he was in her cup, other days he was lying by her side on the window sill, yet each day I could hear her giggle.

I eventually became accustomed to their giggles only a little too late perhaps. One night she was no longer giggling. That exact same night she was silently silent remembering what he had said about those rules that somehow affected his freedom in this other world. She only wished she had let him speak for she will never know why he left her so abruptly”

❤