destiny

I NEVER GIVE UP

Why now, at this peak?

the one we climbed like we were foraging,
like the treasure was ours, and
like we were owed the magic;

the one we promised to ourselves,
like the challenge spoke to our needs
– like spooning, and completeness –
like the familiar sound of Soulmateship;

the one we both ate hungrily
like cheesecake and strawberry sauce,
like viking sex and the sound of rain,
like the walls called for our skin;

the one we privately rode
like thunder and like history,
like couch kissing at 3am,
like the pre-cum that belongs on my lips;

the one our lives changed for,
like losing everything to win,
like the years mattered more now –
like purpose was our new team;

the one we physically yearned,
like this distance made us lovers,
like the words we longed to speak,
like our eyes smiling in perfect silence;

the one we learnt to master,
like the Gods of old had promised,
like synchronicity was our call,
like the prophecies had written us;

the one our dreams showed us,
like we undressed our karma,
like it was destiny we could touch,
like we had angels for our guides;

the one we paved and craved
like the path was suddenly clearer,
like the bumps were sensual touches,
like the signposts contained our names.

Why now, at this peak?

the one we fall from, both alone,
like we have forgotten we had a bond,
like our chemistry now parries –
like our freedoms matter not.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 11 April, 2017

MOBIUS

He said those words
– I can’t –
and my heart fell out of its pocket
like there was a hole in my
chest and
that very last stitch
heard him speak.
Our mobius strip
lay suddenly flattened
– I on one side and he on the reverse –
like destiny and distance
were the same bridge
too destroyed to gap.

Now I want life to end
as I lean down to hold
what’s left in my lungs,
my final breath leaving as
I fall beyond the edge
where
by some miracle
this leap of faith will save me,
felled atop arms that wait beneath
where
the only strip remaining
is the one in which
we remove each other’s clothing.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 11 April, 2017

WHERE THE MAPS WON’T

Journey across time with calendar wings,
moments packed like spare t-shirts
and extra socks,
passport in one hand and
a window seat to the right;
an empty notebook pencilled by thought –
its white void the clouds
that fuel your glorious lungs

Honeymoon with more sky and fewer limits,
bound at the ankles by freedom
– and spontaneity, by chance –
the fresh juice of destiny
your north in every glass of south;
a stomach full of butterflies
to take you to places the maps won’t

Voyage, gift-wrapped in mystery,
each sunrise peeled apart with branching arms;
that new car smell
to steer you upon the magic
of rhyming skies and watercolour footprints –
companionship in purpose
embedded into the souls
of all who climb the peaks of your dreams beside you

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 July, 2016

DESTINY

 

Without your eyes
to fall into
and your mouth
for me to desire
this soul
would still
find a way
– like a compass –
into your center
and you would
still
find a way
like a magnet
into my dreams.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 16 December, 2013

A TIMELESS WAIT IN MADNESS

Your sweet promise
coats me like a varnish,
wrapping my sticky desires
in an airless
human
skin-tight
vault.

Fatally sealed,
this timeless wait in madness,
this paused intent
of craftsmanship

one un-stepped
frozen
foot ahead

contains me like a parasite,
and I, far from drowning,
hibernate within;
mirages of possibility,
seeming eons of time

– bereft of touch –

pass me by, imprisoned.

But wide awake alone,
insane,
inside this vacuumed husk,
I quench my heart

– reflection –

while my hunger,
still unfed,
provides the popcorn
and the trailers
to the feature film
that scratches at my
fading,
timeless,
statuesque,
and stunted soul.

I wait (believing)

baited and entombed,

for the next civilisation
to un-bury me

and recreate a reason
for my being here
that parallels an excuse
for their own.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 28 August, 2011

THOUGHT #285

With the shortage of any vision comes a perilously unfocused destiny.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 7 September, 2012