Third time goodbye

12 Dec

There is no consolation in a love that is lost. You may wonder where things went wrong, but that point in time – the one where infinity turned into fog, into fade – like every other point, passes; it passed before your eyes. There is no redemption in grief, nothing to acquire from fear. There is one thing, and one thing only, you carry on your way out; and that is freedom.

Rani Ghazzaoui

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post infinitum 

19 Oct

there is no consolation in a love that is lost. you may wonder where things went wrong, but that point in time – the one where infinity turned into fog, into fade – like every other point, passes; it passed before your eyes. there is no redemption in grief, nothing to acquire from fear. there is one thing, and one thing only, one carries on their way out; and that is freedom. 

Rani Ghazzaoui

To Emily

17 Oct

hi, Emily, hi
you’re drawing a thought in my head
your lines are the beats of my heart
hi, Emily, hi
black and white
white and blue
and navy
and oceans
and eyes
lips for days
on cloudy skies
hi, Emily, hi
the female is power in your pen
before you there was no when

Rani Ghazzaoui

One last slip 

22 Sep

Vanity strikes again, your words are just jargon. You pose, and you move, and you fake. Not so much a small town boy anymore, are you, love? Your ego needs no pardon. Come again, one more time, you say. Wasn’t it enough to rough up my feathers and see me plead? I’ve begged so many times for you to seed. 

You cut your finger with a slip. 

Roses are red for a reason, my self preservation needs no treason. You’re too late, I’m too loud. There is nothing you can say to fix me, I don’t need amending, are you understanding? So smart, golden boy, so promising. None of your promises made it to the end. You stand there in your messy room, let them sleep on your red couch. We had ended before we began. Ouch. Thank God, thank universe, thank fuck that you ran. Be sure, be positive, be aware: we will bleed again.

Rani Ghazzaoui

Make room

19 Apr

I’m drowning.

I see you from across the room, I flinch, you don’t even see me. You start to speak so softly, so calmly. Your genius, immense. I immerse myself in it for a second, dip the tip of my toes in the pond. I’m shaking. Red, hot flushes going up and down my body, like an illness that informs itself early enough for a diagnosis, but just a tad bit too late for a real cure.

I’m evaporating.

You worked me. My feet, my carves, my tights, my belly, my torso – my pulsing muscle in chest -, my arms, my body, my nose, my eyes, my hair and my face. Suddenly it was all yours. I was no longer, at least momentarily, proprietary of my being and I was being; feeling everything, the breaths and the moans and the hair – so much hair – we were only nuance, we were brief, we were coward and we were brave, we were young and beautiful, we were sad and lonely, we were old and in love, juvenile and in lust. We were there.

I’m coming.

As I left, your face was sad. I traced my finger through your beard, and your mouth, and your hand. I said goodbye ignoring the lump on my throat, the whole in my chest, the sirens going off alarming trouble, catastrophe, pandemonium. I didn’t want to listen. You were there. I was there. Then we left.

I’m struggling.

Everyday it gets easier. Every minute it gets harder. I know the size of your smile and the shape of your jaw, I can draw it in my head with perfect lines that aren’t fuzzy. I’m fussy. The memory of you is present, is alive, is phantom. It is hardly a memory because it’s happening now. The recollection of you is present. I-N-G. Organically, you say. Grown in the garden, seeded, wetted, shaded. It’s a bad seed of the finest kind.

I’m fighting.

Myself, mainly, but with you also. All the time for time. Every minute for another minute. You diffuse. You give. You take. Your shape, I can’t forget. Can’t get over. I can’t regret. Your tone, a ton. I just need more. Overdosing on this high. I can’t get enough of your voice, your mind, your endless desire to prove me wrong. I’m wrong.

I’m flailing.

And loosing. I’m bruising banging on edges, squeezing through spaces that haven’t been occupied in so long. You’re vacant. But I’m here. And I feel pain, but you’re not a painkiller: Baby, you’re the pain.

I’m falling.

And the end.

Rani Ghazzaoui

Verbose

17 Apr

You were lying
I was yours
I never lie (that’s a lie).

I never lie (that’s a lie)
I was yours
You were lying.

Rani Ghazzaoui

Hole

21 Jun

– I love you with all of my heart, he said as she sobbed.
Her eyes puffing up, his arms struggling to find a position to rest around her restless soul.
– Your heart must be rather small, she said as he punched a whole in the door.
His fist now covered in blood as he walked out of the room. And he never looked back. Not once, not ever again.
Words are just words.

Rani Ghazzaoui