-A window ajar is a prelude in building to the joy of being limitless! That uneasiness of being familiar somehow, sometime, somewhere.......

Monday, August 15, 2005

Es muss sein.......

Clementine: This is it, Joel. It's gonna be gone soon.
Joel: I know.
Clementine: What do we do?
Joel: Enjoy it. Say good-bye.

~Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.


It is something like this , isn’t it?
To fall in love- is to be invisible, to be able to vanish with one person while around everyone.

She smiles.

The breeze beckons a memory. A curl of air floats with it happily.
You know I used to love you for that; like when you turn abruptly and smile.
And those hazel eyes.

I know. She smiles.

A smile is just a number,
another count of rainbow
against the horizon of love.


He gently places the strand behind the curve that forms her ear.
Why do you do that?
I like it that way.

Why?
I like myself when I do that.

She smiles.

One of these days I must tell her that brown doesn’t look good on her, He promises himself. He knows he cant tell.He could tell what she wore only while he was driving back.


Do you remember when we met?
He thinks of so many things he could have said. Yes so many. He remembers only her smile. And a yellow windcheater, that held the bone of the conversation.

You don’t have to say it aloud.When you know, you know.And that is all there is to it, He tells himself.


And waits, in anticipation.

Isn’t it strange, this light and the moon? She wonders.

No!! She cannot convince herself outside of it . She wants to let it go and still she holds onto it so hard.
Silence grows within the heart.Slowly into a smile that aches.

Why does she do that? She asks herself until she falls asleep.
She dreams in her sleep.


Obviously there is no such thing as a favourite. How would you define favourite ?
Its what you like most?

I like different things at different times.
What do you like most?

Right now, The piano over there.

Her music floats in laughter.

Within his dreams, he could hear her. I must hold onto it , he tells himself. It slips and wafts away into a distant fragrance.But it haunts on some evenings. It still does!And there is nothing in the world he can do about it.
There is a pleasure in futility.
She smiles.

Almost everynight she fights inside herself.
I want him away from everything. From myself. It is very important.

But he would come back, at different places , in rainy crowds as someone in an yellow windcheater, in wilting roses and old favourites.

A piano sings, somewhere, very close.
She looks for it in desparation.She cant find it.

Suddenly it becomes bright, only she feels it.She must be still in love.

She can’t escape, He knows her every curve, every space.

Do you miss me?? That is all she wants to ask him.


There is a terrible ache, that flows through them, between them.
But neither of them want to leave.

What are you thinking?
Nothing.


She still smiles.....


20 minute writing exercise, on break-ups.

12 comments:

Prat said...

It must be...

Extempore said...

There is a door you have closed forever
And some mirror is expecting you in vain;
To you the crossroads seem wide open,
Yet watching you, four-faced, is a Janus.

From Limits by Jorge Luis Borges


Uber, forgive my unending quoting of Borges. So much of what you write reminds me of him. :) And yes, of Kundera... ess muss sein and the eternal return. :)

Thanks so much for sharing. This was lovely and I sooooo identified with every word.

simone said...

uncertainty clings to your lashes
mixed in the heart of conversation

words flow through your veins
in hope
to find memories of

love
comfort
joy

hate


you?

----

the wind catches stray thoughts
of a smile

that's gone before it's even
there

---

a face in the mirror
softly whispers
your name

---

sensitive flesh underneath your hands
that writhes in pleasure

---

gone

Ubermensch said...

Prat,
Muss es sein?

extempore,
You are welcome, im really pleased to see your nice comment.Thanks and keep them coming.

Hübsch simone,

He
knows her tresses
like
the breeze
that carried
the memories
and umlauts.

she asks,wecken Sie mich bitte um 7.30?
it is never 7.30

danke
ubermensch

therainandme said...

I learnt german in class fifth...but all I can remember now is wie heizchen zie!says something abt class room teaching huh?

'
He
knows her tresses
like
the breeze
that carried
the memories
and umlauts...'

lovely.

Ubermensch said...

Hey endless echo,
glad you have dropped by.Thanks.
Though somehow I feel it didnt justify simone's comment.

simone said...

Ich denke, Deine Worte sind meinem Kommentar mehr als gerecht geworden!

After all, you're the one who convinced my tired brain to formulate these thoughts. And that is some accomplishment. It's been so long since I even contemplated to pick up a pen and write again.

So, thank you for

inspiring me
teaching me

and me

being able to read your lovely and lively words


simone

Ubermensch said...

Simone,
Im really honoured to hear that you think those words deserved the remarks.Your words are in their own league and so much relatable, which is, to be honest very rare for me.
Would be interested to read more of your writings.

Thanks again.
Ubermensch

Sudarshan said...

The ever smiling enlightened one? Nice.

Ubermensch said...

er sudhi, what was that? ;)
glad u r here
ubermensch

Sudarshan said...

I associated her smile with the "Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" :)

Ubermensch said...

ah! there....such a muck me am.
Thnaks for the clarification.
Ubermensch

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