Asghar Abbas's Blog - Posts Tagged "yusra"

Stranded in middle of her nowhere. I flipped a gold coin in the coldless darkless night; my head whipping toward its arch, following its fallow ascent, I watched as the earth and the air scrambled for it, tearing through each other to seize what couldn’t be theirs.

As the nameless coin twisted somewhere between its fall and its destiny, its lemony glow garbing me in my nakedness, its glint holding me still within my night

I was reminded of her more Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde nature fake as all the other elementals.

There were two sides to Hēra
Not just the two halves of herself she usually struggled with, nor just the dual mechanism of her manic depression

One half of her reflection was an unbent world worn yet not worn out singularity, forever entangled in the difference between right and wrong, fiercely intelligent despite her dumbfuckness, a lone stained girl who was very familiar, intimate, intoxicated with her own morality.

And then there was the other side of her other side

The other part of her equation; the rest of her design. She was cruel in her childlike single-mindedness, for her hunger was infinite. Her untamed feeding, her undiluted ardor made her vulnerable

And it was this side that killed me.
Now sinking together in the aftermath of her glow
Pining her arms to her sides holding her tightly within my own as she leans back into me, Hēra teetering sideways within the secured fetters, she kills everything inside of her, as her only world slowly died until nothing is ever going to be alright again, everything is not alright and that’s how it’s supposed to be, that’s the constant, rest is anomaly.

Keeper of her books stealing my own imagery, I didn’t have the heart to tell her she wasn’t sacred anymore for she wasn’t scared anymore.

In my disquieted mind, I find myself standing in the purple field of her bruised flowers, waiting patiently, god within a god, dust within her dust, head bent down, cigarette’ end flaring up like a death of a small sun, overcoat flapping in the winds stirred up by the ravens’ wings, brought on by their breaths, as all the belated storms of her lies closes in on me.

Is this the end, or is it just her standing still?

I learned it the hard way but the trick is to simply stop caring. See, in the past before I was unequivocally on your side, sympathetic to your imagined plight, your cause forever indelible on my mind, in my head I was always on the front lines roaring along with you, smashing the hilts of our swords into our battered shields.

Something happened, things were inverted and I found myself becoming wary of your kind. Due to the inaction of some of you, not all of you, I became devoid of any empathy for your kindred. No longer betwixt, I'd often find myself thinking of you, still wondering about your dual nature, what parts of you had pulled me in more to you, and which parts pulled you toward the sea. Which side was more effective, the merfolk or the other side the more delicate one.

But you turned out to be a Moken at heart, tuned to the sea. The whole universe is in your name that starts with Kay, it's my favorite letter in the known universe.

The thing is, I want to like you and by that I mean, I want you. Just that, simple as that.

Try as you might but you are not confectionery, despite what you claim.

There may come a time when I'd want more from you

- would want more of you
- when I'd need your pinkness for my fiction and
for myself, even when I don't need it.

I don't like going there but I saw the world today, I didn't like it. Though I do like you only.....sometimes.

So.

Put down all that junk on the bureau you carved from the bones of dragons and wipe that glittering gob, make-up never suited you.

Though all the extra gunk makes it easier to define you.

Anyway, here smear this on your face; it's your new warpaint. So holster that No.

That's not how it ends.