I Saw You Today

I saw you today, in a shop window

In that blue button up I recognized

that always turned your eyes

into the green of a forest floor

I didn’t get close enough to

see them, this time

I was just passing by

I only got close enough to realize

that you’re still painfully handsome

That I loved you then,

back in that short-lived when,

and I still do


I’ll probably never get close enough

to love you

I Saw You Today




I Saw You Today. It was the oddest thing. The last drunken night I’d sought you out, just for a look at your happy, put together life, came rushing back to me, coloring my cheeks with the blush of a girl who knows shame and regret, and wistfulness in the same mouthful. You stood out then. You stand out now. I saw your reflection in the shop window as I walked past. I was too scared to stop. Too scared to turn around and look again. Too far away when I remembered that you had no business being in my part of town.

Too cynical to even think for a moment, that you could’ve come for me. That ship sailed, hit an iceberg and split into two, and sank to the bottom of an ocean of unnameable horrors, where the skeletons of our lives are buried restlessly, only to ripple in fierce storms.

Storms. You used to flinch at thunder.

It was the most amusing thing, the first time you did it. A full grown man, one as magnificent as you laying next to my humble limbs, flinching at the sounds crackling sky. I don’t even remember how you wrapped your long limbs around me that night. In retrospect, we were a pair of the oddest jigsaw puzzle pieces that ever fit. I don’t remember how I even slept that night, half suffocated under your weight.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding. I remember. Every time I reach the bottom of a glass I remember. That. How your hair was straw colored in the sunshine, and brown when you walked out of the shower. How your eyes switched so crazily quick between green and brown that I could always tell what you’re thinking. I want to see them change color for me, flicker to that dark green one more time at me, I want to see your eyes and to be able reach up to you on my tip toes again.

But I can’t. Because I saw you today, and I know that you’re a stranger. And all I am, is lost in reflection.


Das All, für J. Refraction is Real too.


Good Monday Morning, my lovelies! ❤️





Maybe a certain amount of insult
Is needed, to stoke benumbed pride

Maybe a certain amount of pain
Is necessary, to provoke healing, inside

To induce renervation, to restore circulation
Maybe, it’s unavoidable, injury

To make your mind open, through the fog,
Tentatively, once again, to see

That’s what it took
And it doesn’t matter, if
That’s what it takes

I am finally awake.






What about the paths that tears take?
What about the furrows blood makes?
What about the roads lazy fingers take down spines
What of the goosebumps that soft whispers raised?

And the spaces between fingers, that were filled?
Glances that caressed, lips that swilled?
Quakes of pure adrenaline, and aftershocks
That undiminished, each encounter instilled?

No, you can still feel invisible stains
Some things seep deeper than cloth and flesh
And marks fade, but impressions remain
That with a perfunctory glance, refreshed
Some lessons are learnt with naught gained
Some pills you swallow to no relief
Sometimes you smile, and laugh, and work,
And you grieve, and you grieve, and you grieve

Some hurt, some bruises go all the way in
Not all scars show on skin






Almost at the end of NaPoWriMo, one day to go.

Chin up, and Cheerio chin chin!




Where we’re concerned
The term
‘Static electricity’
Is a misnomer
The sparks just fly
Between you and me
Singeing the air
Generating EMPs
Of immeasurable
We’re nuclear
You’re a weapon of my destruction
My W.M.D

We don’t move closer
So maybe
That’s ‘static’
But the atmosphere
Around us
Is always charged


Daily Prompt – Free write

Four Letter Word



Four Letter Word


I always found
Romance novels
A little nauseating
Sugary syllables, sweet
Saccharine confessions
Vaguely sickening

Nothing like the real thing

The real thing
Is fragrant, flamboyant
An overwhelming deluge
Like I bit into a rose and
swallowed fire, confused
And pained and delirious
A four dimensional world
Compressed between both of us
A four letter word
I could spend forever
From me and you
The real thing
Enclosed in your arms, lying here
I’ll never want anything more
When I’ll have you

We could write books of our own
But wordless, with meanings expansive
And unknown
How could a flimsy novel
Tell me what Love is?
When I know you, and I know






Of late my posts have been rather frenzied and scattered. The sheer number of ‘likes’ and ‘reblogs’ has been amazing. I just want to thank everyone who’s commented and liked and reblogged and followed. You guys are so freaking awesome that you make me feel awesome by association. Thank you!! ❤ 


Lotsa cookies,

Cookie ❤ 

Milestone No. 333



Milestone No. 333


I don’t know what we did
That drunken night
Think that I sat on the sidewalk and cried

Words, so many words
None of which made sense
My anger and your arrogance
Your relentless pursuit of

And it’ll take a long time to accept
That we won’t belong together anymore,
but at least I had you before
Milestone number 333
Where I buried my heart and came away

Now I just carry
A piece of that tombstone shaped rock in me


© CM



I seethe
Furious, then bitter
Then I cry and I forgive him
All before he even realizes
That he was being ignored

And each time,
I’m ashamed

I wonder how long
I’m going to keep losing
at my own game

© CM

To Be Embers

To Be Embers

I wanted the kind of love

Where I would be burnt alive

I found it

And now I’m wondering if

I should have fallen in love

with ice


I blame the books.

I blame the books I read, for giving me a warped idea of love.

I’ve read all kinds of books. Announcing love, denouncing love, debating love, negating love. The sum of results I could draw was that most people fall in love with the idea of love. Once you see through that illusion, you get to the core concept of absolute, undiluted, one hundred per cent untainted, selfless love. Which is an ideal beyond reach in day to day life, so it might as well not exist.

Except that it does exist. After setting that purity on a pedestal, everyone who even tried to come into my life fell short. I did not want someone I could not look up to, the way I would if they belonged on that pedestal. Not that I was chasing angels, but flaws are not what define a person. On the contrary, flaws recede into the background, only to provide more texture in that fabric. And all the books I read deepened that in me. I did not want the easy going love of summertime and spring fields, of daisies and butterflies.

I wanted the fury of the storm. The last breath of air you surrender from your lungs when drowning in someone else. The ozone singed smell of the sky when lightning rips it apart. Beauty and complexity and infuriating, infuriating madness. I wanted love that transmuted each touch into a metaphysical journey, the kind where a passing glance could wrap brimstone fingers inside your rib cage and pull your heart and lungs down in one savage slash. I waited for love like that, while all other approaches simply bounced off me for years.

I wanted love that I could forsake Heaven for. And I found it.

And books would read themselves out inside my head when he touched me. It was symphonies and sonatas and crescendos and all the music of the world, playing itself out when we sat in silence. The world moved in funny ways, and I forgot how to walk like a normal person. I was the daylight astronomer, counting the constellations in the sun. I wrote books and books of words for him, and he is worth thousands of books more. I said them out so loud in my head that my throat became dry, my voice hoarse and not more than a croak. I disintegrated and dispersed among the black holes of his eyes, and I let myself be utterly bare, and completely accepted there.

I found the love I wanted to be consumed by…. but it did not consume me.

It left me wanting for more.

And it decays as swiftly as crushed leaves left out in the rain, as books who have lain languishing, exposed to the elements. You’re left just standing there, fighting for a love long abandoned, trying to burn yourself when his fire has gone out…

Oh I blame the books I read, for showing me what love truly is.

Because they tell you what it is, but they don’t tell you how it doesn’t last forever.


c. CM, 02.09.2014

To Be Embers- To be, for the Daily Post.