Tea and Cigarettes.

It rained last night.
Out of nowhere, a downpour of the sky's pent up agitation.
Forced to move my books and candles inside, I read by candlelight until my stomach began to rumble.

Now, it's midday, and I'm swaying to Angus Stone, smoking a dwindling cigarette and watching two pigeons bathe in a small puddle. The sweet aroma of my chai tea mixes with sandlewood incense burning slowly on the barbecue.

Surprisingly, I am content.
At this moment in fleeting time, I wouldn't change a thing.
How many times in our life can we say that?

There is beauty in the little things.

Post One.

I'm not one for introductions. However, I have a mean handshake.

I wrote this in October.

Every once in a while
I let myself cry.
Let the tears fall freely
Feel their slow, cool
path down my cheeks, dripping
one by one onto my clenched hands.

Every once in a while
I let myself remember.
Remember the scent of your hair
The exact blue of your eyes
The twitch of your mouth
when you smiled and said you loved me.

Every once in a while
I let myself grieve
Grieve for the one I lost,
The one I'll never touch,
The one I'll never see, never love again.
Grieve, for the one I let go.

Every once in a while
I let myself love you.
And feel my heart swell, pushing against my ribcage.
Feel my knees buckle, my palms sweat,
My mouth break into a helpless smile
every time I think of you.

Every once in a while
I am happy.
When I dare to let you into my thoughts
When I dare to think of what
our life would have been like
together.

And for that split second,
before I realise it will only ever be a dream
I am happy.

A fleeting glance.