She was a keeper in every sense of the word and he thought
He could dominate her and possess every bit of her as if
She belonged wholly to him – every single inch of her all under
His control and all for his manipulation and order;
He never would have thought that one day even this faithful of a girl
Could get tired enough to turn around and walk away from him – forever
Never to ever return a call or a text or to even see him once ever again:
Gone like the autumn breeze which never again would drift by for a moment in time;
It was when the autumn breeze no longer caressed the back of his hair
That he realised he should have enjoyed the magic in the air a little more
And cherish the lightness in his spirits and steps which she brought him –
A spark which only she and she alone could ignite and make blossom;
With her and autumn gone there only was
The coldness of winter left to comfort him:
That which is of no comfort nor warmth.
(Very loose writing inspired by three lines describing a relationship; a relationship which has past and is likely a forgotten memory. It’s a five minutes job in a cafe while chatting with a friend, but I still hope it is worth a read.)
I miss spending time with you:
Times when there was only you and me
Spending nostalgic nights and lonely evenings together
– Just the two of us alone at last at twilight time;
I would hold you tight and gently caress you
Where you would be quietly sitting on my lap
Or lying beside me counting stars and sometimes
I would rest my heavy head on your slender figure and rounded shoulders;
I love the sweet melody you make when we get into the mood:
Sometimes my fingers move fast and rough while other times slow and meticulous
Going up and down and sometimes with more than one finger
Where with each stroke you grow louder and sound more attractive than ever;
Some of my friends adore the exotic way you look while others secretly tell me
You don’t look great and they wonder why I chose you to begin with;
I guess I’ll have to admit:
I know there are others out there who feel better in my arms,
Others who are prettier and more worthy to be shown off,
Those that can be boasted of how great they sound
Or how dropdead gorgeous they look;
But really in all honesty:
All that doesn’t matter one bit because
You are mine and I love the way we sound together
Where everything feels oh so right as if you were crafted for me
(It just doesn’t feel right with any other else besides you);
I don’t get to spend much time with you now and I miss you so,
Two days in a week spent with you is not (and never will be) enough;
I think of you day and night and this I dedicate to you:
One guitar, one love, now and forever.
(Once again, another shot at romanticizing military life through the separation between me and my guitar; I hope you all like it as much as ‘My Valentine’ and I hope to receive feedback if there are any that you think can improve my writing. Cheers!)
I didn’t do much on Valentine’s except that
I held her around my arms all day and all night,
Felt her firm butt against my body and palms,
Traced my fingers along the curves of her slender body and realized
She is just so perfect yet sensitive to the touch;
I stripped her twice over and got a clear view of
What’s within and underneath all that complexities and raggedness;
While sometimes she gets behind me there are other times when
I hold her tight in front of me (and wishing never to let go);
She opens my eyes to the skies and I love the fact that
She is always well lubricated and shoots fast and hard;
Meet SAR21 – S285:
My Rifle and My Valentine.
(I am trying to romanticize military life and I think I just failed pretty miserable; hope future attempts would be better! I actually am starting to like my rifle haha)
(Here’s to breaking the rule one more time, hope its worth the post haha)
I woke up to the pitter-patter of the raindrops.
It was pouring outside, and it never rained in the morning for the whole month when I went to school. I could feel the cold breeze filtering in through the curtains and it gave me a chill all over when I realized there would not be a wave of ‘good mornings’ meeting me as I stroll through the school gates and stand at my usual spot to observe assembly; there would be no assembly today due to the rain and my spot for the morning will remain empty for the rest of the year.
Every morning was warm and sunny when I walked into the office to sign in and start the day. It now appears that the world has taken on a slightly paler shade as I sit cross-legged on my bed and look back at my days in the staffroom and classrooms; I’d rather be walking through the gates now and thinking of my day ahead.
The rain continues to fall and the skies remain grey.
(I’ve reserved this blog for anything but long paragraphs of prose, but for this dedication post I shall break that rule for once. Hope you enjoy it, its an attempt at a sentimental piece)
“One..! Two..! Three..! Four..! Five..!”
I hear the students out in the parade square, counting as they warm up with head rotation exercises, jumping jacks, push ups and bountiful of energy. I have been hearing this every morning for the past month now, sometimes while sitting in the staffroom figuring out a history source or literature text, other times while conducting the morning PE lessons standing at the head of the class.
Today’s the second last morning for the year that I would be listening to this lively bunch skipping counts (at times) as they stretch and prepare for the fitness and games that are to come, and I can’t help but gaze from the second storey to see all that I will miss after I clear my desk and sign off for the last time tomorrow afternoon. I’ve grown to like what I hear now, and I’ve grown to enjoy the times I have around this tiny little campus we call Evergreen, Our School. Be it the classroom or the canteen, I feel that there is something so right in this place.
I just heard the bell go for my next lesson, so I suppose this post has to have a closure anytime now. I guess all (good) things must come to an end, be it this post or this internship, much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise sometimes. I shall head into the classroom and tell my students that my stint with the school is coming to an end, and I believe those who have tested me most and challenged me greatest will be the ones hardest to let go of.
To all in the staffroom, classroom and around the school, I hope you’ve enjoyed my company and loved me as much as I’ve enjoyed your company and loved you all in this short period of time we have spent together. As they say, goodbye does not mean we’ll never meet again..
‘Til then, adieu.